#i may just finish the packet that i’m on and then stop and make an appointment to be like ‘put me back on microgynon i can’t do this’

[mr-walkingrainbow]

Hey Anxienn fans!!!! I gotta lil treat for you!!!!

SO! Remember how I mentioned I was writing some Anxiety x Ennui fics?

well one of them is done!!!!

I have the wonderful honor to be doing a collab with the one and only @hootbon ! Their going to be lending some wonderful art skills while I provide the fanfic!!!

Currently the fanfic is finished!!!! However me and Hooty are still ironing out some of the details! So it will be a little bit before it’s published, BUT! I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging with nothing, so here I offer you a humble little sneak peak of, ABC’s it’s easy as a Une, Deux, Trois?

(also ps. I’m still working on the Jealous! Ennui fic, but that one’s not a collab so as soon as I’m done with it I can post!!!!)

Sneak peek below!

Ennui shrugged, looking away. She knew what Anxiety was talking about. 

For the past few months, Anxiety had been pestering her to let her teach her how to read and write in English. 

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that she didn’t know how. She was French after all. But the other emotions just sorta assumed she knew, since she spoke the language. 

Embarrassment and Envy knew of her little secret. They had all grown close together in the waiting rooms for years on end. And they never needed to learn how to read and write English down there. Ennui had her phone, which translated everything she could want. And nothing ever depended on her comprehension. 

However, they finally made it to headquarters. Riley’s mind making room for new emotions and feelings. 

With all of the commotion and adjustment, Ennui’s lack of knowledge was forgotten. 

Until one fateful day where she was manning the console alone. A history class with a teach with voice more monotone then her own. 

She had been frozen. Unsure on what to do. Her translator app on her phone wasn’t working. And Riley had been tasked with doing a history packet. A packet full of words Ennui would not understand nor interpret. 

She had no idea on whether an emotion was needed or not. And she must have stood there for twenty minutes, useless to help. Which normally she’d be happy with. Able to goof off and lounge around. 

But Riley was directly relying on her. She may relish being lazy, but never at the expense of their girl. 

She was stuck, pride stopping her from asking for help. Which again, is ironic considering normally she’d do anything to get out of doing more work. 

But this? This was different. This was a lack of knowledge everyone else knew. It made her feel…. Lesser. 

Thankfully Anxiety had walked across. Casually joining her. Ennui’s face had burned, too ashamed to explain why she was just standing there. 

Anxiety looked on, back and forth between the screen and her girlfriend. Realization finally hitting her in a silent ‘O’. 

She didn’t say anything else. Just casually read what was on screen. Translating without calling her out. 

Ennui had never been more grateful. And definitely made it up to her later, in a more private way, if you catch her drift. 

And there you go!!! I hope you liked the sneak peek and stay tuned for further updates!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Three

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Mothers and daughters?? Fathers and sons?!?

Word Count: ~4k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 23, 1970

You’ve been stuck in your own mind all day. It's decided to shut down like a panic room and you can see Angus try to crack it open with his attempts at small talk. Mary and Mr. Hunham share uncomfortable glances at each other, slightly humored about the quiet lunch they are having that would usually be filled by chatter from you two.

Angus leans in close to your ear, “You said we would talk today.”

“After this,” you murmur, sinking into the wooden chair.

“If this is about yesterday, it was just a weird moment, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Stop talking,” you say as nicely as you can when you see Mary's eyebrow quirk up at Angus’s comment.

“I have a surprise,” Mr. Hunham suddenly announces. Your eyes snap to him, embracing the distraction. He brings out a platter full of Christmas cookies and places them on the table. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with both of you.”

Angus is unimpressed and by the way he is scowling, he's upset too. “Look at them. Look at all the festive shapes. Snowflakes and gingerbread men. A tree. A little mitten,” Mr. Hunham picks up the red and white frosted cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Mister. This is really nice,” You reach for the snowflake. You’re not sure how well sloppy joe and sugar will settle in your stomach but you're willing to gamble on it. Mr. Hunham gives you a thin smile.

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?” Angus asks, already pushing away his dish and getting up from his chair.

“You may,” he sighs, watching the boy walk away.

“Well, I’m trying,” he says to the group, defeated.

You give him a weak grin, “These are good cookies though. If that means anything to you.”

Mary chuckles at your exchange. Mr. Hunham gets up and goes the same direction Angus had exited. Your eyes follow him until it is impossible for you to see him without breaking your neck. You turn to Mary who is close to finishing her cigarette. She blows the smoke away from your direction and pushes the packet towards you.

“Want one?”

“Oh. No thanks. That's Angus’s thing.”

“Alright. But don’t go asking for one later.”

“I won’t,” you laugh quietly. You hear voices in the hallway get louder. Angus shouts something you can’t make out and Mr. Hunham's response follows shortly after. Their noise fades away and you rub your tired eyes to snap you awake. You never could get enough sleep. You swear you could sleep for twenty-four hours and still feel groggy.

“What's going on with you two?” Mary asks.

“Angus and I?”

“No. You and the ghost that haunts the infirmary,” she took a sip of her coffee while shaking her head in amusement.

“My mother says I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. I don’t know if you want to hear the details,” you warn.

“Give me the reader's digest,” she pats the seat next to her. Bringing your coca-cola with you, you go cross over to her side of the table. “Okay. Tell me if you think I’m crazy-”

“I will.”

“-But Angus has been acting so weird. One second, he's all moody, a regular Holden Claufield, and the next he’s nice and being the Angus I’ve known all my life. I don’t know… Maybe he’s at the stage where his feelings swing around like a pendulum.”

“That's all-teenagers sweethearts. Even at adulthood, that pendulum never stops swinging. At some point it may slow down only for a gust of wind to return it into motion.”

“I mean he’s always been a little short-tempered, just never towards me. Yesterday,” you wonder if you are getting too personal now, “he called me selfish.”

“Selfish? The girl that just scarfed down a cookie to make an old man feel better.”

You shrug. You never knew how to take compliments. “I know I should just ask him what's really going on, but I don’t want him to blow up on me again.”

“If he does come to me. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “What do you think happened out there?” You tilt you heard towards the doors.

“Their usual bickering. That boy is probably paying the price for cursing Hunham out right now.”

“How long have you known Mr. Hunham?”

She paused before answering, “A while now.”

“Has he always been this… strong-willed?”

“Stubborn as a mule you mean? Yes, he has. Although the years have certainly hardened him more.”

“Why’s that?"

“Not sure. He’s a private man. I haven’t been able to pry anything out of him.”

“Not even when he’s,” you make your hand into a fist, extending the pink and thumb. You move it back and forth to mimic drinking from a bottle.

Mary cackles. “Not even then.”

…

The stupidest thing Angus had done was what he had done to you yesterday. He doesn’t know why he said it, why he had called you selfish. It just tumbled out. It was like he was a man possessed. But launching off a springboard in the gym in an act of rebellion was a close second.

He numbed the pain thinking of you. Granted if you were here, you would be lecturing him non-stop and telling him how he should have known better. But at least you would have been here, and he wouldn’t have to watch Mr. Hunham marinate in his misery. At least you would have been there to hold his hand as they popped his arm back into its socket.

Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble the last few days, it had been helpful in getting them out of the hospital insurance issue. And it was about to get him a free burger now too.

They had arrived at the local watering hole. It was jam packed with people getting tipsy with beer. He could hear the clink of billiards and the white noise on the TV.

“I think I’ll start with a beer. How about you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully. Get your cheeseburger.”

“They’ve got Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunham said, but Angus could tell he was just trying to amuse him.

Angus shut the menu as their waitress came up the stairs to their little booth. “Okay, you ready to order? Oh!” she gasped as she turned to his teacher.

“Miss Crane,” Hunham touched his chest, “As I live and breathe. What-, what are you doing here?”

“Oh hi guys! Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Miss Crane explained.

It looked as if Mr. Hunham had been snapped awake, “Well, um, this is Mr. Tully,” he motioned his hand towards him.”

“Sure, I know you and your little girlfriend. You two are always glued together like gum on a pole,” Miss Crane said teasingly.

“Y/n L/n," he beamed, "she goes to the girl's school and we’re just friends. But um, we met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet,” he smiled as innocently as he could.

“I didn’t know about the wrongly part,” she shares a laugh with Hunham.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger,” he orders for Angus.

“And a Miller High Life please,” Angus adds quickly.

“Uh. No you will not,” Hunham says sternly.

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane?”

“Well, like they say, it’s the Champagne of Beers.”

Angus turns to Hunham, “And she’s a professional.”

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane waits for him to fill the blank.

He relents and orders reluctantly, “And a Coke.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham smiled.

“Two cheeseburgers,” she jots down the order on her notepad

“And a Jim Beam. On the rocks. Please.”

“Okay, you got it guys,” She smiles at them before exiting. Paul watches her go and Angus grins at the scene.

“Ouch. You two have chemistry,” he shakes his hand like he had touched a hot plate.

“Okay. That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham dismisses.

“I don’t know. Seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive,” he hopes his teacher will take the bait.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

Angus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, may I at least go to the bathroom? Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?”

They have a stare off before he runs off to the back of the restaurant. Angus scours any leftover change in his back pocket of his jeans. He finds enough to make a call. He scans the room, making sure that Mr. Hunham isn’t hunting him down like last time. He dials the number to the Barton infirmary and hopes you are lounging in your room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chants under his breath. Instead he gets the dial tone. He curses and slams the phone back to its original place.

…

You haven’t seen Angus since the morning. You've been spending all afternoon with Mary instead. You helped with the lunch dishes and are preparing the potatoes for supper later. Mary had a radio in the kitchen which you happily hummed to. Christmas music flooded your ears and reminded you of the holiday. In the halls of Barton there were no decorations, and one could probably convince a kid that the Grinch had stolen them in the dead of night.

“Mary, I'm done,” you proudly show her the bowl of potatoes. In your house most of the cooking was done by private chefs who came in and out so irregularly that you could never learn their names. Understandably, they didn’t have time to entertain a ten-year-olds insistent questions about what it meant to julienne a vegetable.

“Great. Why don’t you start boiling them and get started on chopping those mushrooms.”

“Okay,” you add water to a pot before adding the chomped potato. You find the mushrooms and cut them as thinly as you can. After you place them on the counter next to Mary who has already prepared everything else.

You admire as she adds them to a pan of melted butter. She drops salt, pepper, Italian dressing and other spices you can’t name, without even having to use measuring tools. “You’re Julia Child!” You praise.

“Just years of practice.”

“Hey, when do I get to sauté and mix things?” You get on your tiptoes to get a better look at the mushrooms turning a dark brown.

“When I know you won’t hurt yourself doing it,” she gave a pointed look at the bandaids on your fingers. You may have cut yourself in your first attempts at handling a knife. You hide the hand behind your back. “Sorry.”

You go to sit in a stool by the oven. You open a borrowed copy of a Kerouac book that Angus had in his suitcase. The Subterraneans, written in three days apparently and no offense to Jack but it shows. Mary notices your squinting as you go try to make sense of the writing, inching your face closer and closer to the paper.

“Are you planning to do something with that? The books.” Mary stops her stirring and lowers the heat of the stove. She walks over to you and glances at pages.

“What? Like with writing?” You ask, “I’m not sure. I know I should have figured it out by now but I just never got one of those woosh moments,” you sway your hands in the air.

“Woosh moment?”

“It's like what we talked about with the pendulum. I feel like I've been hanging still and waiting for the wind to send me on my way. I wait for it to push me with the strength of a tornado. Woosh. Almost to flood me with a feeling of knowing? I’m not the best at words…” you trail off.

“You're telling me nothing interests you?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, a lot of things do. I want to do everything. Right now, for example, I feel like becoming a renowned chef,” you pick up a random bowl and start stirring it slowly.

“Try learning how to handle a knife right first,” she tuts.

“Practice makes perfect Mary,” you smile and look down into the chocolate substance you were messing with. “Cake or brownies?”

“Neither actually. It's more doughy than liquid honey,” she lectures you kindly.

“Right,” you say sheepishly, “I swear I’m smarter when it comes to other things. You should see me in civics class.”

“I believe you,” she winks, “Now get to preheating the oven, Betty Crocker.”

…

Angus goes off to play a game on the Pinball machine and to take his mind off you. It certainly helps him. Avoiding the prospect of getting beat up by locals and injuring another part of his body allows him to momentarily forget the stress he feels when he remembers how pissed you are at him.

Mr. Hunham and Angus eat their burgers quickly. To repay Mr. Hunham for saving his ass, Angus keeps his mouth shut every time he orders a Jim Beam. They leave after Hunham drops a rather generous tip for Miss Crane.

They're walking towards Hunhams car and Angus can’t resist the urge to ask, “Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Hey. Catch,” he tosses his keys at Angus, who catches them on instinct.

“How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. No, they go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not."

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Were you ever in the military?” Angus’s curiosity peaked.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Mr. Hunham pointed at his eye, as if to say obviously. He tries to unlock the door of the driver's side to no avail. He points towards Angus,“I have to get in through there. Anyways, they made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

Angus opens the door, handing the keys off as Mr. Hunham slides in. He catches a whiff of Mr. Hunham unmentioned scent.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“You smell,” he states bluntly and Mr. Hunham deflates. Angus joins him inside the Nova, “Like fish. And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus frowns.

“Trimethylaminuria. Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And, uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.

“Wow. Your whole life? No wonder you’re afraid of women,” he concludes.

“I am not afraid of women,” Hunham says, clearly offended. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience,” Angus exhales.

“Who’s Dr. Gertler?’’

“My shrink,” Angus wants to disappear.

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a swift kick in the ass?”

Angus figures he ought to level the playing field. “Okay, all right, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure. Just one thing.

“Just one?”

Angus nods and he probably should be offended that he is taking an awful long time to say anything.

“You’re obtuse about your social relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed mean?”

“You didn’t say I had to elaborate Mr. Tully.”

“Okay well now I want you to. Spit it out.”

“No,” he backs out of his parking spot and hits the road.

“Come on! Explain,” Angus tugs on Hunhams jacket.

“I hope you don’t plan to pester me all the way to Barton. It'll be an awfully long ride.”

He presses down harder on the gas pedal.

…

You had burned the cookies. Not that you could tell when you took a bite of it. The cocoa had disguised it and you had just finished patting your back when you had to spit the whole thing out into the sink. Mary relishes your misery and apologizes through her laughs, wiping the tears in the corner of her eyes.

So your two-course meal had been reduced to just an entree. After thirty minutes of searching and waiting on Angus and Mr. Hunham, you ladies decided to leave the capacious mess hall and have a TV dinner. If your mother could see you now you were sure she would have you arrested by the etiquette police.

Mary was flipping through the channels to tune in to her daily rewatch of the Newlywed Game. You stopped her suddenly, your hand on top of hers to stop her from operating the remote.

“Cactus Flower! I love this movie. Please can we watch it?” You beg, clasping and shaking your hands together.

“What’s it about?” She asks hesitantly, clearly wary about abandoning her favorite program.

“You’ll love it! Ingrid Berman has to pretend to be her boss's wife because he lied to his lover about being married and having kids and shit-,”

“Language.”

“-Sorry. And so now he has to pull off this big con, so she won’t leave his lying as-, butt,” you correct yourself. “Goldie Hawn is sooo good in this. She won an Oscar I think.”

“I supposed I could give it a try. If it bores me we are switching right back though.”

“Deal,” you giggle and scoot the plate balancing on your lap closer so you can dig in.

For the next hour, Mary seems content in watching the characters in the movie ignore and miscommunicate their feelings. Even shaking her head when they do something she finds ridiculous. Your eyes get heavy as the ending nears, your stomach warm and content with the meal you had and the glare of the television tiring your vision. You lean your head back into the couch cushion and close your eyelids. Distantly you hear Ingrid Berman and Walter Matthau confess their love before your world goes dark.

Slumped against Mary, you wake up for the second time that week by the same hands. Angus is shaking your shoulder gently. Your gaze falls immediately to the sling his arm is in.

“Angus! What the hell?” You whisper- shout, fixing your posture and wiping the potential drool off your face. You check to make sure you didn’t wake up Mary.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures. “It’s not broken, or anything just dislocated.”

“What happened?’’ Your arm trails down from where the sling starts to where his hand hangs lazily out. "Is this why you weren’t at dinner tonight? Hunham too?”

“Uh yeah. I jumped off a springboard in the new gym,” he answers bashfully.

“Wow… you are so stupid sometimes.”

“I prefer spontaneous thank you,” he sits down next to you on the couch and lets out a sigh. Using his good arm, he lifts a plastic bag. “We went out to eat and I got you something.”

“Ooh,” You snatch the bag and open it as quietly as you can without crinkling the plastic. Inside the Styrofoam box there's a half-eaten burger with some cold fries. You snack on it anyway offering some to Angus who shakes his head.

“Mr. Hunham thought buying another would be wasteful. He assumed you and Mary would have probably eaten by then so I saved what I could.”

“We did and,” you motion to the plates, “I helped cook it!”

“Really?” Angus's eyes widened, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I saved you some cookies,” You pick up the dish of the burnt dessert. You have brought them over believing you had been exaggerating the taste.

You hadn't.

He takes one, clueless, and bites almost half the cookie off. You see him wince but still he continues to chew. He chokes it down and nods, “Not bad?”

“You’re such a liar,” you shove his head lightly. “I forgot to turn on the timer.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he takes your confession as his cue to spit the rest out into a nearby napkin.

“Thanks for this though,” you take a bite of the burger, “I had forgotten what fast food tasted like.”

“Don’t tell him I let you have it. Or that you saw me in fact. The whole arm thing is supposed to be secret.”

“Got it,” you extended your pinky for him to intertwine. He takes it but doesn’t remove his pinky after, instead he lets your connected hands fall between the both of you.

The TV is still on, except the volume is lower and an old black-and-white movie is on. You finish the burger and put the trash aside to throw away in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Hunham now?”

“Crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“So you want to talk now?” You look up at him.

“Umm, somewhere private though. Incase Mary wakes up,” he gets up, still connected to you by your fingers and pulls you alongside him. You pick up a discarded blanket along with you

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

He walks you two out of the staff common room and you let him take the lead. Barton is cold even without all the large windows closed. It’s like walking through a haunted mansion, passing by old dusty trophy cases and pictures of past alumni. When you enter what you recognize to be the auditorium, thanks to the plaque next to the door, Angus strolls you two over to the stage. You sit on the piano bench and when he joins you, you cover him with your blanket.

You hear Angus let out a shaky breath and then see the winter air turn it into a small cloud of smoke.

Angus starts to speak, a tremble in his voice, “You’re the only person who thinks of me first know? Even when we were little, and we had a free pass to be totally self-centered you still never-. Like in middle school when you’d give me biology answers, or just now with the blanket! I have a jacket! I should be giving you the entire blanket. In fact, let me give you -, your just-.”

“It’s alright Angus,” you stop his rapid rambling, holding his face between your hands. “I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he chuckles, trying to divert his gaze but the soft hold you have on him keeps him still.

“I forgave you the second you walked in looking like a kicked puppy.”

He laughs at your words.

“Although I just want to ask what has been going on with you? I know you hate school and you're not incredibly fond of Stanely marrying your mom, but I feel like something has been bothering you. Something big.”

“I need to go to Boston Y/n,” he admits, hitting some random piano keys. The notes echo around the room.

“Okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “why?”

“It's snowing outside but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. But my dad, he would make it feel that way. So I need to see him and my mom had promised but you see how that turned out.”

“Oh Angus. This is why you kept bringing it up,” you gasp. “Jesus. And I had called you stupid, I’m the dense one for not connecting the dots.”

“No no. You’re not. I was being evasive. I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would have stolen Jason Smith's car keys had I known! We could be there by now, eating Clam Chowder by the bay. ”

“Nuh-uh. You’re way too of a goody-two shoe for that.”

“Well I would have followed you. Given an hour's notice, of course, to build my confidence.”

“I don't know,” Angus hits a few more keys, “Maybe this was fate like you said. It definitely didn’t deal me a cruel hand having me holdover here with you.”

“Yeah, the universe was certainly on our side for this one,” you move closer to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Hey, you think you can still play even with only one working hand?”

“I’m willing to try it,” he stretches his fingers, “What shall I serenade you with?”

“Something Beach Boys. In My Room?”

“You got it L/n.”

He plays much slower and his jaw is sharp, fully determined to get through the song for your enjoyment. He plays so gracefully you don’t even notice when he slips on occasion. You don’t mind it. It’s almost as sweet as a lullaby.

[takenbypeter]

Back To the Past

Words: 2655

Based on this request by anonymous:

Hi!Can I make a request?And yes it will be for Peter Maximoff. I recently revised Back to the Future, so I emphasized the idea of traveling to the past from there. The daughter of Peter and the reader, along with the son of Charles (and possibly Moira), who can travel through time, fall into the time of their young parents.(perhaps some villain has gone back in time and this is dangerous for the future of mutants🤷) In the past, Peter and the reader meet by chance.And the reader falls in love with Charles's son and the course of history may change.Therefore, the daughter of Peter and the reader needs to help her father win over the reader.And Peter is like, "What the hell is a girl, she's my best friend!?" And let the daughter of the reader and Peter also have silver hair, and Charles knows who these time travelers are. I don't know how, but I imagine it in the style of old romcoms with jokes and ridiculous situations))) P.S I apologize if there are mistakes or something was unclear, since English is not my native language.

Author’s note: this is the first time I’m writing a fic like this, in like the 3rd person so there may be a you that snuck in there somewhere. Also I haven’t written a long fic like this in years, writing this reminded me of how much I hate writing long fics cause it literally took me two weeks. Anyways this was still a great request I do love back to the future.

Peter and Readers kid’s name is Lena.

Charles and Moira’s kid is name Orson.

“Quick, grab your snack so we can get out of here,” instructed the silver haired girl. 

“Relax Lena, I got this.”

“I’m serious Orson!” And with that being said the boy shot her a wink and set off looking for his sweet treat. 

The girl tapped her foot for a moment before deciding to find something for herself. 

After all, the time travel mission was successful, why not treat herself to something good? 

She strolled through one aisle glancing at the products; some that she easily recognized and others that she’s never even heard of. 

Lena picked up a colorful packet and turned it over before wincing at the excess level of unhealthiness she read on the back. Staring at the contents she overheard a familiar tune in the next aisle. 

Someone was singing. 

It was quiet and clearly to themselves but nevertheless, someone was singing. The more she listened the more she recognized that voice. A smile crept onto Lena’s face as she glanced down remembering the story that she knew that came with that song. 

Was it now? Was this the moment she’s heard so much of?

As she was listening in, something unexpected happened; another voice joined and her smile instantly dropped.

No, no, no. Please no, she begged internally. 

She heard Orson stop after finishing the next line, “I love that song,” said the woman and Lena knew exactly where this was going. 

“Yeah it’s a good one. My friend’s parents listen to it all the time though, it kinda ruined the song for me.”

You heard her let out a light chuckle before saying, “What?! Don’t blame them for having good taste.”

Lena heard Orson laugh that dumb laugh he did when he found someone attractive. “Oh I blame them plenty, I know tons of better songs.”

That seemed to pique the interest of the woman, “yeah? Like what?”

Lena couldn’t just stand here and let this happen. 

So what did she do? She headed straight to the next aisle grabbing the boy by his ear, “I’m sorry this is my brother and he tends to get lost,” she emphasized growling at him before turning back to the woman, “you have a great day,” she said, walking away with Orson in hand. 

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow,” he winced as the silver haired girl yanked his ear through the aisles. 

“Are you crazy?” She asked once out of earshot from the woman. The poor boy held his ear in pain, “no, but you clearly are.”

“Don’t you know who that is?”

His nose scrunched and his eyebrows pulled downwards in thought.

“That voice. That song. You seriously didn’t recognize her?”

After a few moments of thought his jaw dropped as it all finally clicked, “that’s your mom? She was hot!” He shouted earning a slap on the back of his head from Lena. 

“I swear if you don’t want me to light your butt on fire, you’ll do the smart thing and shut up right now.”

He held his hands up, palms open in defense, “okay, okay. That’s your mom, so what?”

Lena opened her mouth but got interrupted when she spotted her mother walking in their direction again. “She’s coming, shut up, she’s coming,” you said, quickly switching your expression from anger to calm and collected as she drew closer. 

“Hi, excuse me sorry, I just wanted to give this,” she held out a little piece of paper with a name and numbers scribbled on it, “to…” she paused waiting for her blank space to be filled.

“Orson,” he said while Lena practically glared daggers at the boy who took it.

“Orson,” repeated Lena’s mother, “well maybe you could give me a call and we could talk music some more.”

Orson nodded and the woman smiled before heading towards the cash register. And while Orson watched her mom walk away he got another smack upside his head, causing him to yell another, ow! 

Lena tugged him towards the door, “you’re so stupid, don’t you realize what you did?”

“What did I do?”

They exited the convenience store walking until they stopped a few cars away. 

“Don’t you remember how my mom and dad met?”

“Yeah, she was singing a song inside the store and then when she came out, she heard Peter singing the next line outside…” his words faltered before he let out another laugh, “yeah but that wasn’t here that was at the North Side…” he started while Lena pointed at the name of the store, Orson’s next words faltering at the realization. He hissed some air, finally understating the crucial mistake he’d made. 

“But you don’t know, that doesn’t mean anything.”

The store’s door swung open and Lena and Orson instinctively hid behind the truck in front of them, peering over the hood, watching Lena’s mother walk right past, you guessed it, Peter who was lazily sitting on a picnic table too busy with the popsicle in his mouth. 

“You’ve killed me. You’ve literally killed me,” Lena concludes. All attention got distracted as the red truck they were behind started up and the owner shot them a dirty look before driving off. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no, we’ve gotta fix this.”

“Fix this? It’ll be fine, let's just go back.” 

“Are you mad!? What if we go back and I’m already gone.”

The two kids stood in silence, minds wracking for a good idea when Lena finally snapped her fingers, ”we’ve gotta find Xavier.”

Agreeing that Xavier was the safest bet they had, they traveled to the mansion (figuring it was in the exact same location, which it was). The mansion was small, at least compared to how it was in the present day. 

Easily hopping past the gates the two knocked on the doors. After a few moments the door creaked open revealing a man in well dressed clothes wearing glasses. 

“Can I help you?” He asked and at his voice the two shared a look recognizing Hank McCoy’s voice. 

Lena took the lead, “we’re here looking for Charles Xavier.”

Hank shut the door slightly, no doubt to prevent them from seeing inside, “I’m sorry, what is this regarding?”

“It’s alright Hank,” the door opened revealing Charles as he wheeled himself closer, “let them in.”

Once inside the four made their way to a more secluded area, passing a few recognizable mutants until they got to their destination. Once inside Xavier’s office, Hank shuts the door and joins everyone by the desk. 

Inside, the two begin to explain everything; the mission, the convenience store, the fear of what the future may bring. And throughout it all Charles listens intently, taking it all in, until finally at the end he gives his own thoughts. “This is a tough situation, and I’m no exact expert on time travel but I believe Lena is correct. Because right now we don’t know for sure if these two individuals do get together, you can’t precisely tell what’ll happen to Lena if you go back.”

The professor looks to Hank who still wears a confused expression on his face, “I’m sorry, I’m still a little perplexed, are we talking about Peter Maximoff?” Lena nodded while Hank asked another query, “he got hitched?” The question was more rhetorical as Charles shot him a look of amusement before turning back to the children. 

“I think your safest bet would be to somehow make the two come together naturally.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Well that’s for you two to figure out now isn’t it?”

“What? Us?” Said Orson.

“You’re the ones who got yourselves into this mess so it’s your job to get yourself out of it.”

After interrupting a few excuses from the two Charles sent them on their way. 

“Okay, think,” started Lena as the two now paced back and forth outside the mansion racking their brains for ideas, “how do we get them in the same place?”

“At least we have a way to get your mom there,” said Orson.

Lena turned to Orson, her paces stopping, “how?”

A smile widening on his face he reached into his pocket pulling out the piece of paper from earlier.

“You kept her number?! Why did you keep her number?!”

The boy shrugged.

“Get rid of it!”

“What? No, we need this, I’ll ask your mom out and she’ll go to…wherever it is and we just have to make sure your dad’s there too.”

“And how do we do that?” 

The two join in thought again, finding this part slightly harder than the rest. Orson claps his hands, breaking Lena’s thought process, “first we find him, then BOOM, you flirt with him.”

Lena’s eyes widened before she squinted them, “that’s disgusting, I’m not flirting with my dad.”

“Oh come on, it won't be that hard.”

“You’ve lost your mind—lost it.”

“Well if you don’t then we have to find someone else to help us.”

“Wait!” You shout making the boy stop, “why don’t we just get one of his friends to ask him to meet up at the same place?”

Orson snapped his fingers at your words, before his expression grew confused again, “but who?” The two stop and think as a familiar figure wearing a long yellow jacket conveniently passes by causing the two to share a look before they go after the figure.

“Let me get this straight, you two are from the future, and you messed up our time, so now you need to fix it by having Peter go to this arcade, roller rink at seven o’clock?” Jubilee asked, sitting at a picnic table with the two kids. 

Jubilee let out a single laugh, “you gotta know how suspicious this all sounds, it sounds like a trap.”

Lena held her hands out, “it’s not I swear.” Jubilee raised an eyebrow at the young girl. “Okay, the truth is we’re not just from the future, I’m Peter’s daughter and he,” she pointed at her male counterpart, “messed up big time. I just want to make sure everything goes back to the way it was, so I’m still…me,” she finished her head hanging low. 

Maybe it was because of how desperate Lena sounded, or maybe it was because Jubilee knew how it felt to make a mistake. Or maybe it was the fact that Lena’s gray hair seemed to back up her story of being Peter’s daughter. Whatever it was, Jubilee agreed. 

After Jubilee agreed Orson made sure to call Lena’s mother asking her out to the same venue and time. Now all the two had to do was wait. 

Once getting to the planned location ten minutes earlier than planned the two waited anxiously as the minutes passed by. 

“Okay I don’t think we thought this through enough,” Lena said, worry hidden in her voice.

“We got them together, what more is there?”

“Just because we got them in the same room doesn’t mean we got them together. What if they don’t talk to each other?”

Orson opened his mouth to say something but his gaze shifted past Lena before pulling her towards him as they hid behind a nearby wall. 

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he says as the two watch Lena’s mom enter the building. 

Watching from afar Orson fully hid as the woman glanced around. 

After not finding who she's looking for, she takes a seat at the tables near the arcade. 

After about two minutes in came Jubilee followed by Peter who headed straight to the arcade portion of the building. Jubilee instantly spots the two kids and once separating herself from the speedster she heads towards them. 

“Hey, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is you keep him busy for twenty minutes then you leave and we’ll try to get her,” Orson points across the building at the woman sitting all alone, “to him.”

Jubilee nodded before going back to Peter. 

Fifteen minutes go by while the two descendants try to come up with something, anything to say to get the woman to the other side of the building. 

When the two seem to not come to an agreement Lena stands up and walks to the woman herself. “Where are you going? Lena. Lena!” Whispered Orson as he hid behind the wall again.

Walking by her mom Lena faked a surprise expression before stopping, “hey, I know you! You’re the girl from the convenience store earlier.”

Her mom smiled, “oh yeah, good to see you again,” she paused looking around and it pained Lena to know who she was looking for. 

“Is your brother here? We sorta had plans tonight.”

Lena brought her eyebrows together acting confused, “that’s weird. I asked my brother to come tonight and he said he had a date with a friend of ours at the movie theaters.”

“Oh.” She sounded so dejected.

“But hey, he literally does this all the time, he’s just the worst. But just cause he’s dumb doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, there's a new game at the arcade you have to try, you point over to the silver haired boy, “why don’t you head on over and I’ll join you soon.”

She got up and did as told while you punched the air in a mini victory. Jubilee, noticing the girl coming over, told Peter she would grab a drink leaving the man alone. 

Both Jubilee and Orson joined Lena as they observed Lena’s mom watch her dad play. 

Lena taps her foot nervously, “this isn’t enough. What if they don’t talk?”

Orson put a hand on her shoulder, “relax I got this covered.” Without explaining any further he leaves evading towards the DJ booth. 

With nothing to relax her nerves Lena turns to the pair again. 

Over by the games Lena’s mom just watched as the silver haired boy was in the process of beating the hi-score. With her eyes and his eyes glued to the screen in front of them, she said “you’re really good,” half not expecting him to take notice, but he did.

“Nah, I just play a lot. If it were up to me I’d be here for hours,” he said.

A few quiet moments passed between the two before a familiar song played overhead. “Ugh, of course they play this song,” the girl growled under her breath.

That seemed to catch the attention of the speedster, “what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, a guy just stood me up and we kinda met to this song.”

A light chuckle came out of Peter’s mouth, “you shouldn’t let someone else ruin a song for you.”

“Yeah, easier said than done.”

A silence fell over the two excluding the sounds of buttons and music, until Peter spoke up again, “you know what could distract you from all that?”

She says nothing except peers curiously as the boy’s hands leave the controller causing the game over screen to take over. He turns to her for the first time that night with a smile before saying, “a video game.”

Across the building the three watch as Peter gets off from his chair. “Wait, what’s happening?” Lena asks, looking on while her mother replaces where Peter sat. They watch as her mother takes the joystick in her hand while Peter talks, seemingly explaining how to play.

“I think…we just did it,” Jubilee responded. 

“…we did it.” Lena whispered, “we did it!” She repeated turning toward Orson who wore a smile of success on his lips. The two turn to Jubilee and thank her before collecting themselves. “I think it’s safe to head back now,” Lena says, turning to Orson who nods. With goodbyes to their new/old friend they wave with one last, “see you in the future,” from Lena, while Orson holds onto her shoulder. With that being said the two disappear with a spark, leaving Jubilee wondering how it all turned out. 

Guess she’ll just have to wait till the future to find out.

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 18

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: grief, past loss

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @persephonepraxidikechthonios @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos   @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions

Masterlist

Day 202

Leah’s first stop after getting off the plane was her childhood home. Her second stop was the cemetery.

She walked along the path she had come to know by heart. The land was not very big and was surrounded by a line of trees to shield it from the nearby road. She came to a stop in front of the fourth headstone of the thirteenth row on the left.

“Hey Dad.” Leah set her bag down on the grass, kneeling beside it. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last visit. I’ve been moving around for the better part of the last three years and I haven’t had many opportunities to come home.”

Leah pulled a packet of wipes out of her backpack and began cleaning her father’s headstone. The lawn around it was well maintained by Caleb but the recent weather had left splatterings of mud on the smooth surface. Once she finished her task, she sat down facing the inscription, lifting her knees to her chest.

Gage ColemanDearly Loved,Sadly Missed,Forever In Our Hearts

She and Caleb had agonized over what to write. The man at the funeral home had shown them a bunch of examples for “loving father” and “taken too soon” but none of them had felt right.

A dozen men whose lives he had saved overseas had shown up to his funeral. There were two dozen more from the VA, the dog shelter, his work and Caleb’s year in school.

Leah and Caleb may have been his only living relatives, but they hadn’t been his only family.

“I’ve been so lost since you’ve been gone, Dad. It’s been so hard finding my place.” Leah buried her face in her hands, choking on a sob. “All I ever wanted when I was younger was to be like you. It hurt so much knowing you never wanted this life for me.”

Leah took a moment to brush her tears away with the sleeve of her hoodie, fixing her gaze on her father’s name.

“But I think I get it now—why you didn’t want me to follow in your footsteps. It’s not easy. Actually, it’s been really fucking hard, but I just know that this is what I’m supposed to be. I hope you’re not too mad.”

Leah didn’t want to spend her entire visit with her father in a blubbering mess so she blew her nose on a tissue from her bag and took a few calming breaths.

“I, uh… I met this guy. He’s more than just some guy, really, he’s my captain. I know, I know, it’s a recipe for disaster. I think if you met him he’d change your mind though.” Smiling to herself, Leah remembered how Sy had said he and her father would probably get along. She was sure her father would agree.

“I mean, Aika—she’s a german shepherd we rescued—Aika loves him and you always said dogs were the best at judging character. I think I might be in love with him and I… I’m so scared, Dad. I’m scared of what might happen if I do this but I’m also scared that if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it forever.”

After a few terrible attempts at dating after high school, Leah had somewhat given up on the idea of finding someone to share her life with. She was so independent and bullheaded that she didn’t think she would ever manage to make a relationship work. Then there was the whole fear that a guy would never be satisfied with her and would always inevitably cheat on her as had happened before.

“Were you happy, Dad? After mom left and you were all alone with us, were you happy? Maybe I was just a clueless kid and you were this big ladiesʼ man but based on the lack of female presence at your funeral, I don’t think that was the case. Sometimes I wonder if you were lonely without a girlfriend. I hope you didn’t feel like that was a sacrifice you had to make for us but if it was then… Thank you. Thank you for always putting us first. Thank you for being such an amazing dad.”

An alarm on Leah’s phone informed her that it was time to head back to the house. Caleb was going to be home for dinner and she wanted to have food ready and waiting on the table so that they didn’t have to worry about anything but catching up and enjoying their time together.

Leah stood, packing up her trash and getting the dirt and grass on her jeans.

“I love you, Dad.”

Sy’s welcome dinner with his family was as uneventful as ever. He hadn’t expected some big shindig but he had pictured a tad more enthusiasm. Never had he felt so much like a stranger in his own home as he did at that moment.

His nieces and nephews were barely old enough to remember him since the last time he’d visited. It was also a school night so his sisters had taken the kids home right after dessert. His brothers had stayed a while longer but once the youngsters had fallen asleep, they and their wives had also gone home to put them down in their own beds.

After helping them carry the kids to the car, Sy spent another few minutes talking to the twins before retreating to the porch. His brothers had only been twelve when he left and now they were both fathers. He’d spent more than half their lives away from them.

The screen door slamming alerted Sy to his mother’s presence, drawing him out of his thoughts. She dropped down by his side on the porch swing, not saying a word for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

Sy was taken aback, turning to face his mother.

“For what?”

Sy racked his brain, looking for a reason as to why his mother would want to apologize but he came up blank. When she looked up, her eyes were red and brimmed with tears. A million different thoughts slammed into him, filling him with dread but none of them had prepared him for what she eventually said.

“For not helpin’ ya more when you were young.”

He knew instantly what she was referring to but he’d never expected her to mention his childhood, much less apologize for any of it. In fact, he didn’t think his mother had anything to apologize for but by the looks of things, the guilt had been eating away at her for quite some time.

“Mama, ya had two other boys who needed ya more than I did.”

She shook her head, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

“No,” she said adamantly. “Ya needed me just as much as they did but I didn’t see it because ya always acted so strong. I wasn’t the mother ya needed me to be. I wasn’t there for you.” The sobs she’d been trying to suppress finally broke free, prompting her to lift a hand to her mouth. Sy watched, feeling utterly powerless as the women who’d raised him fell to pieces right in front of his eyes. “I didn’t see it and maybe if I had and I’d been a better mother then then ya would never have enlisted. You would be safe here with your family instead of out there, riskin’ your life and worryin’ me sick every second of every day.”

Hearing those words, Sy pulled his mother into his arms, her tears soaking his shirt as he held her. He hated hearing that she blamed herself for his shortcomings. Knowing that his parents had their reservations about his career and hearing that his choices actively caused them pain were two very different things.

“None of this is your fault, Mama. Ya can’t know that things woulda been any different.”

“Yes, I can.” She pulled away enough to hold his face with both hands. “You are so smart, baby. Ya coulda done anythin’ ya wanted, ya just needed a little more help in school than the others. Maybe if we’d caught on while you were still young we coulda found a way to make things work and ya wouldn’t have fallen so far behind.”

Sy closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against his mother’s.

“Mama, I never regretted joinin’ up. I love you and I know me being away is hard for ya—it’s hard for me too.” He pulled back to lock eyes with his mama’s. “But I never regretted it.”

“But maybe ya wouldn’t have felt like the army was your only choice. Maybe ya coulda gone to college right after high school, met a nice girl and been around long enough to give me a few grandbabies.”

Sy couldn’t help but huff at that last comment. Even when she was breaking down she was your typical southern mother—so full of love that she wanted as many grandkids as possible to share it with.

“Ya already have six grandbabies, Ma,” he admonished.

“That’s true, but I wouldn’t mind havin’ a mini you runnin’ around.” She pulled him down to kiss his cheek then wrapped both hands around his biceps to rest her head on his shoulder.

Sy kissed the top of her head in return, smelling the familiar fruity scent of her shampoo. She’d been using the same brand for as long as he could remember. In fact, when he was a teenager he’d asked his father to buy a different kind because he didn’t want to smell like a girl.

It was strange to think there was a time where his biggest concern was what he smelled like. Or that there was a time where his hair was long enough to warrant using shampoo instead of bar soap. He’d given up almost everything that tied him to a life outside the army but maybe it was time to make a few exceptions.

“I uh… I don’t know that babies will be involved, but there is this one girl that caught my eye.”

His mother immediately perked up, as he knew she would. 

“Oh?” she wiped her cheeks. “And what’s her story?”

“Her name is Leah and she… Well she’s one of my soldiers. She was assigned to my unit a few months ago.”

“Wow. She must be a real tough girl to make it into the special forces.”

Sy nodded. “But she’s got a good heart too. She’s an artist, she loves dogs and she’s real close with her brother ‘cause they’re each other’s only family.”

“Ya sound real smitten,” she teased, nudging his side.

“I guess I am.” Sy managed a half smile as he turned his gaze downward. “I just wish I’d had more time with her before she got on her flight to Denver but maybe it was better this way. If we got together while she’s still my subordinate and someone on base found out it could ruin both of our careers.”

“If she’s the one for you, ya can’t let her go. Who knows when you’ll have another chance like this. I think you should go after her.”

Looking out over the yard of his childhood home, Sy considered his mother’s suggestion. It had always been a little wild and unkept when he was young. His little brothers’ toys had always been strewn about, his own bike laying amongst them more often than not.

Now, however, the lawn was neatly trimmed. His mother had planted lush flower beds that were in full bloom and pruned daily. Even the house itself was unrecognizable after a few necessary renovations. At least the ceiling in his old bedroom no longer leaked when it rained.

He wanted that for himself. A place to call his own. Somewhere to return to. A house that would change over time and age with his family. He wanted a home. Hopefully one with Leah in it.

He shook himself out of his reverie. “Mama, I haven’t been home in almost two years. I can’t run off after less than twenty-four hours.”

“Nathan, sweetie, if you feel this strongly then there’s nowhere else I want you to be than with her. I want to see you happy.”

She stood from the porch swing, tapping him twice on the knee.

“Take the night and sleep on it, but I have a feeling your heart already knows what it wants.”

Sy nodded in acceptance, standing to kiss his mother on the cheek and pull her into another embrace.

“I want you to know, baby, that I am proud of the man ya grew up to be. It scares me to death that I might lose ya but that don’t mean I’m not as proud as can be that you’re my son.”

With that, she said goodnight before heading inside.

His mother was right, Sy didn’t need to think another second whether or not he wanted to go after Leah. He wanted to jump in his truck and head out on the road but he also had no idea where to go.

Sy pulled his cell out of his pocket, tapping the screen and bringing the device to life. It was late, nearly midnight, but with any luck the man he needed to reach would see his message somewhere between when he stumbled out of the bar and when climbed into bed with whatever man or woman would be warming his bed that night.

To Sy’s surprise, his phone lit up with an incoming call as soon as the message had been delivered.

There was noise in the background as he answered, some classic rock song Sy couldn’t quite hear clearly enough to recognize it.

“Why do you need Coleman’s info at this time of night?” BJ was shouting over the music but soon the sound faded, letting Sy know that he had walked out of the bar to take the call.

“Whatever business I have with Coleman is between us. Do you have her address or not?”

“Really? You ask me for a favor and you’re gonna give me that bullshit?”

Sy knew it wasn’t fair of him. Especially since BJ had trusted him enough to confess his own biggest secret. He was the only person that knew BJ was bi. They’d lost a man a few years back and it had sent BJ into a spiral. That was when he’d confessed that the two of them had grown to be more than teammates.

If anyone was going to understand how he felt about Leah, it was BJ.

“I need to see her. I need to see if she feels the same about me as I feel about her.”

“And how exactly do you feel about her?”

The Captain sighed, sinking down into the porch swing. “You really gonna make me say it?”

“Damn straight I am.”

He scrubbed a hand over his beard which was overdue for a good trim.

“I need to know if… If she’s willin' to give us a shot. If she can’t stop thinkin’ about me the same way I can’t stop thinkin' about her.”

Sy held his breath as he waited for a response. A moment passed. Then another.

“I’ll text you her info when I get home. It’s on a scrap of paper in my pack.”

With a relieved exhale, Sy said a silent prayer to whatever god was listening.

“That’s it? No follow up questions? No snarky comments?”

“Na, I’m just glad you finally got your head outta your ass. Your moping around was getting real fucking old.”

“I really owe you for this BJ.”

“Make me the best man at your wedding and we’ll call it even.”

An image of Leah in a white gown walking down the aisle towards Sy suddenly flashed through his mind and he groaned inwardly. Fuck. He really liked that image.

“She can make you her maid of honor. I’m sure you’d look great in a fluffy pink dress.”

“Don’t think I won’t do it, Sy. I fucking love that girl, I’d do it if she asked.”

A door slammed closed somewhere on the other end of the line, a muffled male voice following shortly after. “Babe, why’d you disappear on me? I turned around and you were gone.”

“Sorry, it’s my captain. Give me a sec. Sy, I gotta—”

“All good man. Thank you.”

“Keep me posted on how it goes.”

With a brief goodbye, they hung up and Sy made his way back upstairs. He quickly used the washroom and slid between the sheets of the queen bed his parents had purchased specifically for him.

The other two bedrooms had been turned into a craft room and a proper guestroom. His, however, had been saved for these rare moments when he made it home. He’d been the only one to have his own room growing up. The girls had shared one and the twins shared the other. It must have been the only blessing of being the middle child.

They’d changed it, of course, clearing out any clutter and moving it to the attic in case Sy ever wanted to go through it all. His first time back home following his enlistment, he’d had to squeeze his newly acquired muscle into his old twin bed. His parents had taken pity on him, investing in a bigger bed despite knowing it would barely get used. They’d also elected not to remove the posters of half naked women he’d put up when he was fourteen.

Sarah Michelle Gellar had been his number one crush at the time. It seemed his tastes hadn’t changed much—strong, sassy, independent.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand and he was happy to see an address from BJ. Sy immediately booked a flight to Denver for the next morning. He was able to find a last minute car rental as well but decided to wait before booking a hotel.

Maybe it was presumptuous of him but he hoped he’d be able to stay with Leah even if it was on her couch. He still checked availability at a few local motels then set an alarm early enough to give him time to pack some clothes and get his duffle ready. He was not going to risk missing his flight on the off chance that his body managed to sleep past sunrise the next morning. That was, if his impatient ass managed to sleep at all.

Chapter 19

[emmyrosee]

92

48 touching and 48 kissing

akaashi

💖💖🧍‍♀️

HSOSBSOSJSO THE LITERAL LOML-

92 “that SO classified as a date”

48 touching “dancing together”

48 kissing “to stop them from talking”

-

The air smelt sweet of hot chocolate and muffins, and despite the fact that you narrowly missed the rain after completing the project for school, Keiji notices how your eyes seem to yearn for the trickling droplets slipping down the glass and pounding into puddles.

“We can take the pastries back to the dorms,” he says simply, taking a sip of his coffee and observing you. “If you’d like. Starting to come down heavy.”

“I don’t mind the rain,” you confess, your voice in a dreamy lilt. “I think it’s misunderstood.”

He offers you a small laugh and takes a sip of his warm coffee, admiring the way your eyes dance over the slipping of the water. “Never took you to be such an appreciator of the mundane.” Your cheeks heat up and you snap back to him, slightly embarrassed, only to look even more shy as he laughs adoringly at you once more, “I like it. We need more admiration for the simple.”

“Are you?”

“I like to think so,” he confesses, breaking off a piece of the chocolate chip cookie between you. “I like the little things, far more than focusing on the extravagant. It makes life slow down for a bit.”

You giggle, “relax, Socrates. It’s rain.”

“You started it.” He picks up a sugar packet and throws it at you childishly, snickering to himself as you swat it away. “Though I’m not big on rain.”

“You’re not?” You ask incredulously. He shakes his head, and your jaw slacks slightly. “I took you for the type to love it! It’s always such perfect weather for everything; drawing, snuggling, cleaning, it’s so relaxing.”

Snuggling? He makes a mental note of the way the word floats casually past your lips, and he shrugs with another sip, “I mean, I’m not the type of guy to go dance in the rain, but I guess I’m not opposed to those-“

“You don’t want to dance in the rain?!”

The sheer volume of your outrage has other patrons of the cafe turning towards you; he snorts as you shy away with embarrassment, nudging you softly under the table with his foot. “It certainly isn’t my first choice when it comes to… rain activities. It’s a cliche I never got behind in media, even if it’s cute on the big screen, I never saw it as a particular moment of to prompt falling in love.”

“Excuse you- it’s a phenomenal trope,” you defend, stealing a bite of the cookie. “You’ve just never had a dance-in-the-rain-date, you monster.”

He snorts and moves his hand to cover his nose at the noise, laughter from your booth once again causing some other people to turn towards you. “I’m not a monster, you diva. And I hardly classify dancing in the rain as a date.”

“That SO classifies as a date!” You laugh, picking up the sugar packet and throwing it back at him. “You just have no tastes.”

“Okay, well I’ll just go kick rocks,” he says dramatically, smiling as you titter, and he finishes his coffee. “Eat the cookie we bought, I can’t eat the whole thing.”

And so, you do. You share the last bit of cookie together, and, with an appreciative ‘thank you,’ to anyone in the cafe who would listen, you two pack up and quickly try to shuffle back to the dorms, cowering under Keiji’s umbrella in an attempt to stay dry from the chilly rain. It’s coming down quickly, pittering over the concrete, and while Keiji tries to make a hustle to the warmth of your dorms, he watches, confused, as you pause and stand in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Are you crazy? It’s too cold, get back here.”

“Dance with me.”

“Now?”

“Yes,” you hum, smiling as the rain starts to flatten your hair to your head. You quickly toss your backpack under a bench nearby to try and keep it from the elements. “Come here.”

Conflicted, he looks around for anyone who may be witnessing, and when he sees no one, he sighs as he succumbs to that look in your eye. You beam as he tosses his backpack under the bench, followed by his soaking umbrella, and he shivers. “I’m cold.”

“I’ll keep this quick, I promise.”

With that, one of your arms loop around his neck, a hand gently resting in his as he takes his form with you, a hand resting respectfully on your back. You smile up at him as you allow yourself to sway, “you know what you’re doing?”

“Probably more than you,” he teases, and you raise your brow playfully.

“We’ll see about that.”

Despite the challenge in your voices, you sway with him easily, following his steps with grace from his lead. He’s a strong dancer, the guidance over the pavement he brings you over almost has you floating, and it feels surreal to do this with someone you call a classmate, a friend, someone you’ve kept an eye and hope out for years to call him yours.

It feels right, he looks beautiful as his confidence glides you both in the trancelike dancing; his hair flattened to his forehead while a cherishing smile rests on his cheeks.

“You ready?” He asks suddenly, and you tip your head on confusion.

“Ready for what?”

“This-“ with that, he extends your arm and sends you out into a spin, laughing as you squeal in surprise and come twisting back into his hold, batting at his chest playfully.

Now, your bodies have shifted.

Both of your arms are looped around his neck, his hands slowly slipping to rest on the base of your spine, thumbs stroking lovingly over the dips of your back. Your head rests comfortably against the dip in his sternum, where his heart beats happily, and you close your eyes restfully.

It’s exhilarating how your bodies rest together, like a puzzle that was desperate to be completed and missing a crucial piece- when you found each other in your embrace, it all came together to a beautiful art.

“This is nice,” he confesses, and you chuckle and nod against his chest. “But I am freezing.”

“I know,” you say sweetly. You angle your head up at him, “I just wanted to prove my point to you.”

He rests his chin on the top of your head, “point proven. I see why you could enjoy this.”

You do enjoy it. With every fiber of your being, you’re enjoying it, it feels good, it feels right with him, and despite the way your heart flutters and your soul feels at ease, your mouth has thoughts that demand to be said, even as you try to keep them in.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You pant, blinking the drops of rain from your eyes as you peer up at him. He nods, licking his lips free from his own set of rain drops. “I… I really, really wanted to do this with you because it’s been a dream of mine to, and I’ve just… I’ve wanted you for so long that this was my way of kind of gauging how you’d feel about me in return and being here with you is making me so nervous and happy and I genuinely hope that you-“

You’re cut off by pouted, soft lips that dip down to yours, the movements gentle and inviting and exactly as you imagined how Akaashi Keiji would kiss.

Calm, swift, and loving.

He tastes like mocha and whipped cream, and kissing him is how only how poets could describe, soothing and exciting, and it sets of fireworks and queues the rollercoaster in your soul; it’s fufilling and comforting and you could do it forever if he’d bless you with the chance.

You’re breathless when he finally pulls back, blue pools gazing back down at you with amazement dancing in them.

“I know,” he whispers quietly. You giggle and lean forwards, chasing his lips in another adoring peck.

“Told you it counts as a date.”

“Yes.” He leans down to nudge your nose with his own. “I suppose it’s also a time that prompts falling in love.”

“You gonna fall in love with me?” You tease, albeit the tone in your voice hopeful.

He smiles before leaning down to capture your lips in another swift kiss, letting himself lead once again against you, and you sigh happily.

“I was already there.”

[digital-domain]

Coffee Break

Here is a short, relatively tame bit of L x reader smut I wrote when I was 18 (because I haven't finished anything new yet and we need some CONTENT on this blog)

Word Count: 1500 (yes, exactly 1500!)

Pairing: L x Reader

Content tags: oral sex, first time

Synopsis: L’s gotten used to you, a task force agent, casually stopping by while he works on the Kira case. He can barely admit to himself that he wants more from you, but he might not have to...

Written from L's perspective :)

You bring me coffee sometimes. You set it down between me and the computer screen, and tell me that you added enough sugar to make it taste good. You usually haven’t added enough, but I don’t particularly mind.

What you haven’t realized is that I have no difficulty staying awake when I’m working on a case that interests me. I actually only ever have difficulty with falling asleep. It would be more efficient for both of us if you stopped bringing me coffee. But you keep doing it, and I don’t tell you to stop. I should tell you to stop, but I don’t, and I tell myself that surely you wouldn’t keep fetching drinks for me if it was a serious hindrance to your work. You only come visit me, and my dark room, and my glowing computer monitor, for the good of the case. It’s completely rational.

I have to be rational - I know that no distraction is more important than this puzzle, this chase, the net I’m weaving from this room, and so I don’t talk to you for long when you visit. You ask me how things are going - you always ask such vague questions - and I tell you that I’m making progress. I feel tempted to tell you this even when it isn’t true. This may be because I believe you’ll be more successful in your work if your morale is high. There are other possibilities, as well.

Not knowing is unfamiliar, and it bothers me. I don’t know why I want to stop you from worrying, or why I drink your coffee every night even when you’ve gotten the sugar ratio all wrong. And I don’t know why you take the time to bring me coffee at all, because I don’t really believe that your motivations are rational. I do believe that you would sit down next to me, if I had a second chair. But I’m still not quite sure why, and I’d like to know with 100% accuracy before I make any decisions.

Of course, the probability goes down to 0% if no one decides anything...

You bring sugar packets with the coffee tonight. You smile and say, “I thought that you might want to do it yourself. I can tell when you don’t like it, you know.”

I didn’t know, but I make note of it. “Thank you,” I say. “I find coffee disgusting by itself. I prefer hot chocolate, actually.”

Your face turns a bit pink, and you say, “I’m sorry. I could bring you that tomorrow.” I want to invite you to sit down, but there is still only one chair in the room. I should have planned for this. There’s a reason I didn’t. I’m productive alone. I’m a genius, alone. Still...

“Coffee’s fine,” I say. “The sugar makes it much better.” My yawn afterwards is performative, but the exhaustion it belies is certainly real.

“You’ve got bags under your eyes,” you say. Then you flush, again. You color the most at the high points of your cheeks. “They don’t look bad or anything. I just - you seem really tired.”

“I am,” I say. “I’ve had approximately six hours of sleep in the last two nights, and I need at least five per night to function at full capacity. It’s not ideal.”

“Definitely not.” You don’t look tired, although you’ve been awake late, as well. You have bright eyes, and they’re still bright now. Long eyelashes, too. And I like the pink in your cheeks. I’d like it to stay there.

“Why do they send you every night?” I ask.

“They don’t send me,” you say.

I smile, lean back on my heels, and tear open a sugar packet.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask. “Other than sleep.”

I empty a second packet, then a third. “Nothing, besides a breakthrough.”

“Or maybe just a break.” Your tone has changed, now, although I don’t quite know how, or what it’s meant to reflect. I find it relaxing, though, enough that I let myself slide from crouching to sitting in my chair. “Perhaps. A short break could actually improve my efficiency tonight.” I pause, here. My mind really is slower when I’m sitting down.

“Do you want company?” You lean over the desk, and your hand lands close to mine. You smile white and you blush pink, and a lock of hair falls over your eye.

There is no chair. I could say yes, if there was one. But there is no chair, because I planned to make myself work alone, even if you came, when you came -

“I’ll sit on the floor,” you say. “Don’t worry.”

I nod my assent, and you take your seat, leaning back on your hands. When I talk to you, I lean over the arm of my chair. “I’ve calculated some probabilities you might be interested in,” I say.

“With all due respect to your brilliance, I don’t think I need you to tell me.” You look up at me from the floor and take hold of the seat of my chair. It turns on its base if you move it, and you pull it until I’ve turned 90 degrees to face you. “They really don’t send me to visit you. I come all by myself.”

I like the sight of you underneath me, so much that I feel compelled to turn my gaze away. It lands on the coffee cup, open, full nearly to the brim. “You don’t have to bring anything,” I say. “Next time. You can just come up. Talk to me.”

From the corner of my eye, I see you tilt your head, and your hair fall away from your face. “Won’t that be a distraction?”

“Yes.” I turn away from the coffee cup and look at you, sitting at my feet as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m not used to feeling this chair at my back. I’m not used to feeling this - this.

You giggle - it’s unnatural, hearing such a light sound in this place - and pull yourself closer. “Well, then. What should we talk about?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not very good at... that.” There’s a decent chance that you want to come even closer, but my legs are in the way. And it would be vulgar to part them. Presumptuous. Especially considering what you’ve surely already noticed -

“We’ll be quiet, then.” You rise to your knees and push the offending limbs to either side. “There are other things worth doing.”

You deserve a better light than the harsh glow of a computer. You deserve a better place, and a better reason than - what? An attraction to intelligence, maybe, or pity -

I don’t let myself go down that train of thought. For once - just this once - I can leave something unconsidered.

You’ve tied back some of your hair. I can see your face, and watch your tongue, softer than any hand, brush over me for the first time. I don’t wonder how I taste, or how I compare - these are thoughts for later. You’re slow, at first, and warm. Some of your hair falls out of its tie and laps at my skin, but you pay it no mind. You tease me, you coax me, you cover me, and I shudder when you pull away.

There’s saliva hanging from your lips, and I feel the urge to reach down and spread it across your face. “If you want to,” you say, “push my head down at the end. I’ll like it.”

I lean back in my chair - now, it feels like my throne - and grip the armrests. There’s not an inch you haven’t touched, but I still want you to take more. I could make you take it, I realize, shove down and shove up and fuck your throat until you’re tugging back against my hand. But I wait. You’re better than I ever could have imagined, and you only said at the end...

I want you like this every night. I can take the time. I can earn it. In front of my eyes flashes a picture of how you might look with your shirt unbuttoned, or on your knees with nothing at all. Every night, every night, every single night - I take the back of your head and pull you tight between my hips, driving everything I have into you.

You take it easily and smile and sit back on your heels. “We don’t have to talk,” you say. “I’ll bring you another coffee tomorrow night.” Your hair comes down, and I push mine back from my face.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat. Tomorrow, and the night after, and the next...

You grab a sugar packet before you leave. It takes a minute for me to laugh at this, and another several before I can turn back to the work ahead of me.

[ninebluehearts]

Your Hero

Prompt: Can I request Nurse Reader x Tim Rockford where he saves her life from a shootout and gets shot, she takes him home and patches him up, can be fluff or smut, whatever you wish <3 ily!!  

A/n: Sure thing honey!! Thank you so much for this request! Ilyt!! <3

Warnings: Blood, gunshot wound, mentions of a toxic relationship.

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

“Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

“Damn, aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” Tim asked, groaning in pain as he laughed at his own joke, hobbling over towards your couch.

You roll your eyes, leaving his side long enough to rush to the bathroom to grab the med kit you kept in the closet. It looked like one of those old books you’ve seen in the movies, a layer of dust covering the top of the box, easily falling from the plastic with a simple blow of your breath. 

You wrinkled your nose as you walked back into your living room, trying to ignore the tickle of dust in your nostrils. “Alright. I’ve got a numbing spray in here somewhere, but I don’t think it’ll work too well for something this bad.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got a high pain tolerance, right doc?”

“Technically I’m not a doctor, but yes, that helps.” You’ve been rushing around trying to sterilize your hands and tools that when you finally took a second to look up, you were met with a sight that you’ve seen a million times before, but for some reason, this time you just had to stop and look. 

Tim sat on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest, legs spread open in front of him, his strong thighs exposed now that his pants were bunched up in a ball beside him, as though he were desperate to get them off and out of the way. And considering the fact that there was a hole in the side of his thigh, anyone would be.

You shook your head, hoping you could shake the dirty thoughts from your mind. Sliding on a pair of rubber gloves, you kneeled down before him as you opened a small packet that had a disinfectant wipe inside. “This may sting.” 

Tim didn’t really move when you began to clean the area, his hands gripping the edge of the nearest throw pillow being the only indicator that he was in pain. 

As you fell into the flow of caring for your patient, your hands seemed to fall into autopilot for you, leaving your brain to run wild with thoughts of the night. How could you have been so reckless?

You just needed eggs. 

You figured you’d walk in, grab the eggs, pay, and then you’d be done, free to go home and go to bed after a long day. You had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, still covered in way too many bodily fluids and such to identify at the moment. 

You were so close to being done, proudly hugging a carton full of a dozen eggs against your chest as you stood in the checkout line. You wanted to scream when you heard your name being called from behind you, the familiar voice of your ex already igniting the ball of rage in your belly. 

You decided to ignore him, handing the cashier the carton when it was your turn. You handed her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change so you could be out of there faster. 

Your ex was hot on your tracks as you hurried out of the building, ignoring his calls. It was a messy, but simple break-up. He cheated on you, and you left his sorry ass. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Baby, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry, huh? Come on, you’re being ridiculous!” Tired of your silence, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, making you turn to face him, pure rage and exhaustion etched all over your face.

“Carl, if you don’t let me go right now, I swear to God I will scream.” You gritted out between your clenched teeth, your hands tightening into fists.

Carl only tightened his grip, his expression twisting into something sour. “Jesus Christ you’re so dramatic. Just listen to-” But you didn’t even give him the chance to finish, letting out a high-pitched scream as you looked him dead in his eyes. 

He yelled at you to stop, but you refused, ignoring the judgmental looks you received from the surrounding strangers. 

“Is there a problem?” A man asked as he made his way over to the both of you, flashing his badge to show that he was an officer. 

You immediately stopped screaming, clearing your throat to try and ease the slight sting of your now irritated throat. “Yes, there is, officer. Please get this asshole FAR away from me so I can finally go home already.”

Carl sighed, placing his hands up in the air. “Nothing’s going on, officer. My girlfriend’s just being dramatic.”

You barked out a laugh, rage boiling up in your chest as though a little red monster was clawing at your insides, just begging to be set free. “I dumped your ass! What do you mean girlfriend?”

After a bit of back and forth between you and your boyfriend, things progressively got heated. Even more so when the officer tried to get between the two of you when Carl tried to grab your hand for the umpteenth time, resulting in Carl pulling a gun out from behind his back. 

The officer tried to reason with him, slowly reaching for his own gun from his hip, but Carl shot him before he could reach it, running off once he realized what he had done.

You heaved a long, heavy sigh, spraying the area with the disinfectant as you tried to push any thoughts of Carl from your mind.

“May I ask what happened? With you and that guy.”

Or not..

You shrugged your shoulders, threading the tip of the string through the eye of the needle. “Nothing really happened. He cheated on me, and I wasn’t willing to stay and give him another chance. That’s all, really.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” Tim said, keeping his eyes focused on what you were doing.

“There is, I just don’t feel like getting into the lies and manipulation.” You said with a hollow laugh, gently poking his thigh with the tip of the needle. “Did you feel that?” 

Tim simply shook his head, focusing on keeping himself as calm as he could so you could work. 

“Perfect. Let’s get to it then.”

-

When you woke up, Tim’s head was resting on your shoulder, a red blanket draped across both of your laps. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wake yourself up enough so you wouldn’t fall back asleep. 

You spent over an hour trying to stitch up and bandage Tim’s thigh last night, and after you did, he somehow convinced you that a few glasses of whiskey would be good for the pain..

You glanced over at the clock on the wall, your shoulders slightly caving inwards when you saw that you had less than two hours to get ready for work.

You tried to slowly slip your shoulder out from under Tim’s head, holding your breath as though it could be a factor of waking him up, but no matter how quiet or slow your movements were, Tim gripped onto your arm, snuggling his face deeper into the side of your neck. 

You thought about actually waking him up, feeling guilty for wanting to stay and cuddle with an unconscious stranger. But when you listened to those soft snores and felt the way his chest slowly fell, only to rise again a moment later, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

This was probably the best sleep he’s had in awhile, you reasoned with yourself. The crazy granny case probably kept him up most nights, and now you have the chance to allow him to rest..

And so, you sank back against the couch, gently laying your head atop of his.

Just thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes and you’d both get up and go your separate ways. 

A small smile tugged at your lips, your eyes slowly falling shut as your whispered. “Thirty more minutes.”

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 3

Rating: E

Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2]

Notes: I’m setting this as though The Tournament never took place and MacAvoy just contined on his downward spiral. This will not have spoilers for The Tournament but it will have spoilers for Safe, kind of. Also, I’m sorry for my poor geography. Pretend anything geographic that doesn’t make sense makes sense :’)

tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I’m so sorry–please let me know and I will add it ASAP!

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

In the light of a new day, some of Belle’s fever had abated. She was acting like a silly schoolgirl instead of an adult with her dream job to fulfill her.

After unlocking the library door, she turned to wave at the man in his wheelchair who always sat outside the convenience store across the way.

“Morning!” she called. 

“Morning!” 

“I’m about to make some coffee, do you want some?” 

He raised what she knew to be his change cup in agreement, and she turned back into the library. That’s how it should be—Belle should just help people as best she could and then not dwell on them forever.

It was hard, though, when the person you couldn’t stop thinking about had been coming into your library for six months now and always made you laugh and treated you better than anyone else ever had. 

“Except,” Belle muttered to herself, almost dropping the coffee filters in her agitation, “Except it’s not very kind to say you’ll be somewhere and then never show up. One might argue that that’s a dealbreaker.”

One might. She scooped coffee grounds into the urn. One might also argue that Nosty showing up at all was a good thing, and she should be worried instead of angry that he hadn’t last night. 

Belle didn’t need to have that argument with herself though because no matter what, she began worrying about Nosty the second he left her field of vision and didn’t stop until he returned, whole and unbloodied. 

She paused in her scooping, staring at the pile of grounds. In all of her internal dialoguing, she’d lost count. It was looking the way it usually looked, so she added two more scoops for good measure and then set it to brew.

She should think about Father MacAvoy. The chances that he hadn’t gone home and immediately had a drink were low, but she hoped he’d at least considered getting help. Perhaps if she’d known him better, she’d have volunteered to sit vigil by his bedside for the first few nights, but she barely knew him at all. 

What would her father say if he knew about the company she kept? “Belle’s always been happy with her books,” he used to say to his friends. “My odd little girl.”

Her heart panged. She missed her father. But maybe she hadn’t always been happy with her books. Maybe she’d always needed more, and now she’d passed all the stages in life where people made friends. What would Nosty say? That she was filling the void with strays.

The coffee finished and she made a cup for her friend across the street, grabbing a banana and packet of biscuits she knew he liked as well. 

She headed back to her office, forcing herself not to scan her surroundings constantly on the hunt for Nosty. He would come back eventually. He always did.

Apparently, he already had. The food she’d left for him, labeled with his name, was missing from the fridge, and the bottle of fabric spray she kept for him was on her desk instead of in the cabinet. Was he lurking around somewhere, or had he come in the night and left before she arrived?

She ignored the sting of that thought. Nosty could have been in the building still—he may have been loud and brash, but if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. 

With a groan, Belle flung herself into her chair. If only she’d made friends with reliable schedules in grad school, then maybe she could just do good deeds and go home without getting attached to anyone. 

An echoing groan answered her from the closed bathroom and Belle yelped, feet carrying her from the chair before she had the conscious thought. Maybe Nosty was here, lying injured on the bathroom floor.

When she pushed the door open, though, she almost wasn’t surprised to find Father MacAvoy curled up by the trashcan, barely conscious.

****

Of course, she had no way of knowing what either man had been thinking last night. Had Father MacAvoy come and eaten Nosty’s food, then collapsed on her bathroom floor? Somehow, she doubted that. Perhaps Nosty had come with the intention of waiting for her, seen Father MacAvoy, and left. 

Who knew?

All Belle could say was that there was an unconscious priest on her bathroom floor and food gone from her fridge. Sitting at the empty circulation desk and pretending to work was easier than untangling whatever she was feeling, so she busied herself with filling an online cart with dresses she could never afford so she could pretend that someday, she’d do more than live paycheck to paycheck. 

She felt like she might be within her rights to be angry with both of them—Nosty for his disappearing act and Father MacAvoy for, well, the exact opposite. All she felt was confused. 

After about half an hour, she filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and headed back to the bathroom. Father MacAvoy sat against the wall now, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“Father?” she whispered, and he startled awake.

“Belle.” He looked all around, finally settling on the water in her hand. “I didn’t expect—”

Belle waited for him to finish and, when he didn’t, she handed him the water.

“You’re welcome here any time, Father.” 

He mumbled something, accepting the water with a quick nod of thanks. She didn’t have the energy to ask him to repeat himself. 

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. She wasn’t surprised. 

“I’ll be out front,” she said. “You can come find me when you feel better.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, and she ruffled his hair to show she wasn’t mad before heading back out.

****

She could have sworn that hours passed before she looked at the clock again, but it had somehow only been another thirty minutes. A few retirees had wandered in and checked out some books, but this early in the morning on a weekday meant that there was little to distract Belle from her own thoughts.

Every time the door moved, she perked up, but of course it was never Nosty. She still wasn’t fully certain he wasn’t somewhere in the building. 

A few minutes later, she turned at a shuffling sound and found Father MacAvoy shambling toward her, hand shielding his eyes from the overhead lights. 

“Good morning!” she said much more cheerfully than she felt.

“Morning.” He leaned on the front of the desk like it was the only thing holding him up. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I thought I passed out in bed.”

“It’s fine.” 

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and she plastered her bright smile on. “What’s wrong?”

And just like that, the floodgates she’d been holding in all morning—so stupid, what was there even to cry about?—broke, and her eyes filled. She bit her cheek to keep it at that, but soon Father MacAvoy was stumbling around the desk to pat her clumsily on the shoulder.

“There, there,” he said, and she had to laugh. This was what a priest was supposed to do, and yet it felt so awkward and unnatural.

She reached for a tissue and found that Father MacAvoy was already holding one out to her. After dabbing at her eyes with care for her mascara, she tossed it in the bin and swiveled to face him. “I’m sorry, Father, that wasn’t about you at all.”

“What was it about?” he asked gently.

She shook her head. “I’m just tired. Do you want to sit up here with me?” 

He nodded, so she found him a chair and pulled it up behind the desk with her, bringing a water bottle as well. 

He leaned back in his chair, and she didn’t have the energy to pretend that she hadn’t been clothes shopping, so she went back to it.

“That one’s nice,” he said when she’d scrolled past a page of evening gowns. She opened it in a new window and tried not to grimace. It was floor-length and full-sleeved purple satin. In theory, it wasn’t bad, but Belle couldn’t imagine ever wanting to wear it. 

“Very priestly of you,” she said, closing out of it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s dark and all-covering.”

He snorted. “Fine. What would you pick out?”

Belle hadn’t been intrigued by anything on that page, so she clicked through a few more and then stopped, bringing up a sleeveless golden a-line with lace paneling. 

“If I was rich and got invited to benefits that cost more than my rent, I’d wear this.”

Father MacAvoy didn’t speak, and when she turned to him, he cleared his throat.

“It’s lovely,” he said. “Elegant.”

She smiled. “I think so.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He pointed his chin at the screen. “All these dresses cost at least a month’s rent.”

She shook her head. “Just trying to take my mind off of things.”

“I am a priest, you know,” he said. “You can talk to me, even if I am disgraced.”

She clicked through a few more pages, not even looking at anything, then closed the window. It would be nice to have someone to talk to. Though she was friendly with some of her coworkers, it wasn’t like she could tell any of them about Nosty. Besides, she was their boss.

“I’m worried,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at him, so he gestured for her to continue. “About Nosty.”

“Ah.” 

She swallowed, having nothing to fiddle with now that she’d closed the window. 

“Why are you worried?” he prompted.

She folded her arms, hugging them to her chest. “I never know when he’ll show up or what he does when he’s gone. Is he not here because he just isn’t, or is he not here because he’s hurt? Or worse?”

“It’s tough,” he said. “Caring about someone who’s never safe.” 

“I wish—” She paused, not sure what she wanted to say yet. 

“You wish?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “He has a hard life. It’s not fair for me to put my feelings on him.”

“It’s okay. You can have feelings.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

It was almost comforting to talk to him without being able to see his face. Was this what confession was like? 

“I just wish I knew if he cared about me, I guess,” she said. “If he knows that it bothers me when I don’t know where he is, or if that’s just who he is.”

“I’m sure he cares about you,” Father MacAvoy said. “Who wouldn’t?”

Belle chuckled without humor. “That’s very kind of you to say, Father, but I’ve always been odd, and it’s only once I grew into being conventionally attractive that anyone ever gave me the time of day. So, to answer your rhetorical question, most people wouldn’t.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, being conventionally attractive isn’t even close to your best quality,” Father MacAvoy said. 

Belle’s cheeks pinked, and she looked down at her lap. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Please,” he said. “Call me Joseph. I feel like an imposter when you call me Father.”

The pink flush in her cheeks deepened, guilt creeping along the back of her neck. She wasn’t Catholic—or even religious—but she felt like she’d be committing a sin to use his name. Still, he’d asked her directly. It would be rude to call him “Father” now.

“Okay,” she said. “Joseph.”

She glanced at him, thinking he’d been watching her, but his eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He shook his head, settling back into the present. “Nothing. I just—haven’t been called by my own name in a long time.”

****

Father MacAvoy—Joseph—was good company, even during the after school rush, even when he got sick again in withdrawal. Belle felt less alone just having him sitting there. Maybe what she’d needed all along was companionship, not Nosty specifically. Maybe, when she went home tonight, she’d worry about him a normal amount that a person would worry for a friend.

A hot, anxious pit settled in her stomach. It was Friday. Belle didn’t work weekends. That meant she wouldn’t even have a chance of seeing Nosty until Monday. Even if she came in her off time, sat in a chair for every open hour, he wouldn’t be there. He knew when she worked, and even though the weekend staff knew about the snack cart, they wouldn’t have taken kindly to him entering from the back door, taking over Belle’s office, making himself a sandwich.

“Belle?” Joseph poked his head into her office. She realized she’d stopped packing up her bag and was just standing there, frozen with worry over Nosty. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” Maybe, to keep her mind off things this weekend, she could lock herself in Joseph’s church and scrub it from top to bottom. There was enough dust and grime to keep her mind off of everything. 

“I’ll be outside, unless you need help?” 

She shook her head. “No, no, you go.”

He eyed her like he didn’t quite believe her, but she slapped her bright smile on and he left. Just to make sure Nosty hadn’t been hiding in her office this whole time, she shoved everything into her purse and did a sweep of every possible hiding spot—closet, cabinet, shower, toilet. Nosty was nowhere.

She turned out the lights and stood in the dark for a few seconds, thinking maybe he’d appear from the shadows. When nothing happened, she sighed, locking up her office when she left. 

As she walked out, she shut lights off. When she’d first started, closing the library had scared her, but now she relished the quiet, loved the way it felt like tucking her home in for bed. Some low lights stayed on all the time, and the gentle dim light centered her, made her feel a little more like she could survive the weekend.

Then, a hand snaked out from between two shelves and grabbed her, and she yelped as Nosty yanked her into his chest.

****

For a second, all she could do was stare up at him, one wrist caught in his hand while the other rested on his shirt pocket.

“Nosty,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t like he never disappeared. It wasn’t like it was even unusual for her to not see him for a day and a half. The only unusual part was that she’d pined for him like he’d been lost at sea.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he growled. She didn’t give her knees permission to turn to jelly at the sound of his voice, but they did it anyway. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He lowered her hand to his chest and then slipped both arms around her, holding her against him. “Didn’t you miss me?” 

“You said you’d come last night.” That was it, wasn’t it? For the first time, he’d said something definite, and it had been a lie.

He pulled her closer, and she curled into him. How could she ever explain to anyone that Nosty’s arms were the safest place she’d ever known, even as she wanted to rip herself away from them and scream?

“You were busy,” he said. 

She didn’t understand why he was so jealous of a priest. He should have been proof that Joseph was not her type.

“Have you been here all day?” she asked. “Or did you just come in?”

He ducked his head to kiss her on the temple, soft, the way his first kiss always was. She stiffened her traitorous jelly knees. 

“I’m here now.” He kissed below her eye. “What’s it matter?”

She pushed against his arms, holding herself away from his chest. “You’ve been here all day, haven’t you? I’ve been losing my mind wondering where you were, and you were just punishing me.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He tightened his arms, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t punish you.” 

“Then what?” She pulled his arms apart, stepping away from him. “There was no one here worth hiding from. No other employees, no huge groups of kids. Just me.”

He raised both hands, and she noticed a new cut on the heel of his palm. It didn’t look like a knife wound, but she wondered how he got it anyway. 

“If I’d known this was the fucking welcome I’d get, I wouldn’t have bothered, hey?” 

“Oh my god.” Belle pressed her hands over her eyes because if she continued to look at him, she’d let him talk her out of being angry. “Oh my god, I’m going crazy.”

“Aye, fucking mad.” 

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut harder. “I can’t do this, Nosty. I can’t spend every minute you’re not here out of my mind with worry, pining after you, wondering when you’ll bother to throw me a crumb, I can’t.” 

Rough hands—hands she knew wielded knives, became fists, bruised, beat, battered—closed around hers, easing her palms off her eyes. 

She watched Nosty as he pulled her hands to him, pressing one to his heart and the other to his lips.

“I have to go,” she said. “Father MacAvoy needs a ride home.” 

She didn’t move as he kissed her knuckles one at a time. He held her hands so gently, she could have gotten away with no effort. 

“Don’t go,” he murmured into her fingers.

“Nosty—”

“I was jealous.” He switched to her other hand, this time pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. Something loosened in her chest. 

“And?” she said.

“I didn’t want to fuck it all up.”

 It was the most honest thing he’d ever said with words. She wanted to fall into him.

“I was worried about you,” she said. 

“Don’t go,” he said again. “Belle, don’t go.” 

He kissed up her arm and she wanted to stay. God, did she want to stay. But she’d already left Joseph outside for too long. He would worry.

“I have to,” she said. 

“Fuck him,” Nosty growled, scraping his teeth along her wrist. Her knees would never be the same again. “Stay with me.”

“Come to my flat.” The words were out before she could stop them, and then she couldn’t take them back. She didn’t want to anyway—if Nosty was at her flat, she wouldn’t have to worry about him. 

“Your flat, eh?” He wrapped her arms around his neck, cradling her around the waist again. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to invite a monster over the threshold?”

“Then come to the cinema with me.” A horrible, desperate feeling dwelled in her chest, but she met his bright eyes anyway. “Spend time with me.”

“The cinema?” He glanced around the dark library. “In public?”

“Tonight.” 

He narrowed his eyes, searching her face for who knew what. She didn’t know whether he found it or not when he closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers.

“Why?” 

Wrapping her finger around one of his locks, she took the opportunity to kiss the corner of his mouth while his eyes were closed. It always felt like Nosty had her at his mercy, that she was helpless to do anything but follow where he led. Relishing this moment of being the one leading, she kissed the other corner. He opened his eyes.

“I want to go on a date with you,” she said. 

“You’re mad,” he said, then snorted when she tugged on his hair. 

“You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Aye.” 

He kissed her then, one hand clutching the back of her head, fingers tangled in her curls. When he pulled away, the only thing holding her upright was his other arm around her waist. 

“Stay with me here,” he hissed into her lips.

“Go on a date with me.” 

He pulled back just enough to search her face again, and she tried to mimic the grin he gave her when he was pretending to be mean. He must have recognized it because he snorted.

“Fine,” he said. “A date it is.” 

“Really?” she asked before she could stop herself. She didn’t want him to change his mind.

“Really, love.” He brought his mouth to her neck and pressed a tiny, fluttering kiss to her pulse. “But you’ll owe me.”

He bit down, and her knees buckled, but even her trembling limbs couldn’t stop her happy laugh.

****

MacAvoy hadn’t actually seen Nosty, but he’d seen what he thought was the edge of his kilt, and even though he didn’t relish the idea of sharing Belle with him right now, he’d spent all day watching her wilt. How could he do anything other than give them a minute alone?

The minute turned into five, ten, and MacAvoy realized he should have brought a water bottle with him. His head pounded and the soup he’d forced down at lunch was starting to speak to him from beyond the grave.

Then Belle scurried out of the library, flushed and happy, and his stomach calmed a fraction.

“I’m so sorry.” She rushed around in her heels, unlocking the Ford as she did, and MacAvoy collapsed into the passenger seat.

“No need,” he said. “You look happy.”

She beamed at him as she threw herself into the driver’s side, but didn’t say anything more. He was glad that Nosty had turned her mood around, though he hoped he wasn’t just stringing her along. She deserved someone who would actually be there for her.

Someone like you, you sot? the mean little voice in his head sneered. He clenched his teeth, watching her back out of the little parking lot.

“You know,” Belle said as she checked behind her. “I’m not happy the circumstances, but I’m so grateful you were here today.”

He stared at her, taken aback. No one had been grateful for his presence since the last time he officiated a wedding, and who knew what year that was? They probably weren’t even that grateful because he was surely tipsy, if not wasted. 

“Why?” 

She shrugged. “I really needed a friend.” 

He didn’t know which was more unbelievable—that a good samaritan like Belle considered him a friend, or that he’d somehow managed to make a friend simply by blacking out drunk in her place of work. God, if it was that easy to befriend someone, why was he so fucking lonely?

“Me too,” he said. 

“So,” she said. “Are you going to drink tonight?”

Cutting right to the chase then. MacAvoy swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“You seemed better today.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t drink as much last night. That’s why I really thought I passed out in bed, I swear.”

“It’s okay.” She reached over the console and squeezed his shoulder. He wondered vaguely if it was possible to evaporate.

“It won’t happen again.”

“I’d rather find you in my library than read your obituary in the paper.”

“Well,” he looked out the window to hide the redness in his cheeks, “Doubt you’d find my obituary in your paper. I’m on the other side of London.”

“I’d find out.”

They sat in silence, still comfortable, but MacAvoy felt more tense. Of course he would ruin the atmosphere. 

“Just so you know, I don’t work weekends,” she said. “So try not to show up in the library until Monday, okay?”

He paled. What if his drunk brain forgot and someone else found him there? What if that person called the police? 

“Are you holding mass on Sunday?” she asked.

That startled a humorless laugh out of him. “This Sunday? Doubt it.”

Belle turned the radio on, and he couldn’t have felt guiltier if she’d flogged him. She was doing him such a kindness and he couldn’t even answer her nicely?

“No one would come,” he said.

“How do you know if you don’t hold it?”

He watched London go by out the window, considering. If he was honest, he didn’t want to hold mass. He was so out of practice, what would he even say?

“I’m not ready yet,” he said. 

One hand still on the wheel, she reached over and squeezed his hand. He swallowed, and he was sure she could hear his throat open and close. 

The whole drive to the church, even when they talked about mass or drink, Belle all but glowed. A sudden, horrible thought appeared—what if she and Nosty had been ten minutes because they’d been—

He shook his head to clear the thought, regretting it when everything inside of him sloshed angrily. He refused to even imagine that Belle’s mood would be so turned around by a quick hookup hiding out in the middle of the library. His training told him to insist that she not even entertain thoughts of sex until marriage, and he knew that wasn’t modern, but he could at least hope for Belle’s intimate moments to be in a comfortable bed with someone who loved her and didn’t just string her along like a rag doll.

She pulled into the parking lot but again didn’t get out of the car. “What will you do all weekend?”

Surprised, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

She dug through her purse, coming up with a piece of receipt and a pen, and then scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “If you get bored or need a friend, please call me. I promise I don’t have a social life you’ll be interrupting. Well—” She flushed, beaming again. He wished he could make her look like that. “Don’t call me tonight.”

“Big plans?” he asked, shoving away thoughts of Belle screaming Nosty’s name. He needed a drink. Maybe a vomit.

“I hope so.”

To his surprise, Belle pecked him on the cheek before he got out of the car. Was that a common thing for her, or was it just because of her good mood?

“Oh, Joseph!” she called, rolling down her window.

“Aye?”

“On Monday, maybe come to the library when it’s open instead of in the dead of night?”

Feeling both appreciated and chastised, he nodded his assent, then waved as she pulled out and zipped off. 

As he shuffled his way into the barren church, he could no longer run from his own thoughts. He saw Belle pressed against the shelves, clothes torn by Nosty’s rough, violent hands. He couldn’t jog to his room fast enough to escape the vision of Belle’s bare leg hiked up on Nosty’s waist, breasts pressed to him, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Why? He’d been plagued by his demons for years, why were they coming for him now, like this? He’d always preferred the temptation of vice to the temptation of sex. Sex involved other people, but drink? He could ruin himself with alcohol all on his own, and he had. Couldn’t the devil just leave it at that?

He whispered a mantra of vodka, whiskey, gin over and over, but even that couldn’t quash the reel playing out in his mind, and as he shook off the day’s clothes and flopped onto bed, he imagined Nosty readying his cock, twice the size of Joseph’s own and ready to plunder.

What did it say about him that he didn’t even feature in his own sexual fantasies? Was this even a fantasy, or just a horrible waking nightmare?

The bottle of backup-vodka lay on the nightstand where he’d left it, still two-thirds full. He gulped it down, the burn in his throat finally clearing his mind. 

The truth was he was happy for Belle that she had someone who made her happy, even if it was Nosty. At least, he wished that was the truth.

With a groan, he set the bottle back on his nightstand. He’d need to ration it, or he might be seeing Nosty’s ever-growing cock all weekend.

[Chapter 4]

[azurefishnets]

Testing the Waters

For dearest @siverwrites, on the occasion of @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap 2023. I had to write about a most particular "odd gift" tailor-made for Jowd!

The story can be found at the link above, or you can read below.

AO3 Profile Fandom: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective Words: 3492

Summary: On a holy night 6 years before Ghost Trick begins, Jowd and Cabanela test their friendly rivalry in a high-stakes game of chicken. One of Cabanela's ever-weird but ever-useful gifts may save the day… or it may end their friendship forever.

The living room had become a place of glorious chaos: wrapping paper, garland, and bright ribbons were strewn haphazardly across the sofa, the coffee table, under the couch, around the banisters, and any other place a little girl too busy shrieking in glee over her presents to pay attention to the mundane matters of mess could be relied upon to have discarded it. The space under the tree was bare, save the place where the last mound of wrapped presents lay, and Kamila had just finished unwrapping her last gift, a fabulously glittery silver recorder which promptly went into her mouth. Something approximating music began to fill the air.

“I’ll kill him,” Alma whispered in mock despair, glaring at Jowd by way of proxy for the absent Cabanela’s gift to their daughter, then producing a dismayed smile for Kamila’s efforts. “Absolutely kill him. He’s not allowed to be the loud-gift uncle, you hear me?”

Jowd, who sat on the floor and had expertly navigated himself into being thoroughly covered in gift wrap and paper detritus, wore a smile that only barely escaped being more a rictus as Kamila hit a particularly shrill note. “Sorry,” he said in response to Alma’s protest. “Got a mango in my ear. What was that?”

“Jowd.” Alma widened her eyes at him in that special way of beleaguered spouses everywhere. “Don’t make me kill you too.”

Jowd laughed as Kamila played on with the indefatigable vigor of six-year-old lungs and enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, we’ll have her give him a concert. Soon! He’ll love it.”

“I’m certain he will.” Alma’s smile turned a little villainous. “I’ll give her some special tutelage.”

“Tutelage! Ha!” Jowd grinned at her. “A holy night miracle if he’s even got you making terrible puns now.”

“Please. Don’t start.” Alma rolled her eyes in faux-dismay, then sat straight. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She dove under the tree, reaching for the back corner which had gone undisturbed until that moment, and pulled out a midsize box wrapped in white with an ornate scarlet bow. It was labeled For Jowd. “Speaking of Cabanela, he made me promise to give you this last.”

“Hmm.” Jowd stroked a hand down his beard and accepted the box, meticulously untying the ribbon and folding the paper into a neat packet which he placed in the conveniently placed and nearly empty trash bag next to him. Alma glanced at this evidence of Jowd’s inconvenient sense of tidiness, around the room which displayed anything but, and sighed.

“Hmmmm,” Jowd said again, slitting the tape that held the box closed with a fingernail, and opening it to reveal a rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle. “This is…” He stopped. “What is it?”

“Ask your good friend,” Alma said with a shrug, unfolding herself from the floor and dusting herself free of scraps of gift wrap. “All he told me was that there was ‘nothin’ like it,’ and it was extremely important you knew that.”

“Hmm!” Jowd gave it one more interested look, then levered himself up, shedding debris as he deftly removed the recorder from his daughter’s hands and swooped a giggling Kamila into his arms. “If there’s nothing like it, I suppose that means I’ll find out soon enough.”

“I hope he comes back soon to explain it,” Alma said with a worried look at the phone. “I always worry about him when he goes on these…” she cast an eye at Kamila and finished somewhat uncomfortably, “trips.”

Jowd put an arm around her and drew her into a hug. “He’ll be fine. Spotless as always and I’m sure he’ll enjoy the gift you and Kamila are preparing for him when he gets back.”

Alma’s eyes went narrow as she glared one more time at the recorder, now hidden away from Kamila’s distracted eyes in the pouch of Jowd’s hoodie along with the chicken pulley. “Oh, he will. He’d better.”

Together, they surveyed the living room and the mess therein. Alma cast a glance at the clock. “Oh. I need to finish my appetizer platter and the cookies before we head to your mother’s—how did it get so late already?”

“Time flies,” Jowd said with an irony he wouldn’t recognize until much, much later. “I’ll get Kamila dressed, shall I?”

“And yourself,” Alma said with a pointed glance at his comfortable pajama pants and old hoodie. “You have a nice new outfit. Wear. It.”

“Fine, fine,” Jowd said, heading for the stairs, only to be stopped by the phone as it began to ring. “You go on,” he said to Alma as she looked back and forth from the kitchen to the phone with a harried expression. “I’ve got this.”

Still holding Kamila, he answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Jowd—” Cabanela’s familiar voice, then a buzzing silence. A burst of static, then something that sounded like the lapping of water. “I thought—beee here by— did you—the chicke—” There was a shout, then a very final sounding click as the phone on the other side dropped the call.

Jowd put Kamila down. “Why don’t you go on upstairs,” he told her. “Your new dress is all laid out on the bed if I know your Mama. Be back soon, OK?”

She looked at him with big, solemn eyes. “Where are you going, Papa? Grandma made pie. She promised there’d be chicken in it and everything.”

“Well, it looks like I might have to give Uncle Cabanela his present now,” Jowd said. “Hurry on upstairs while I talk to Mama.”

After a quick and quiet discussion with Alma in the kitchen wherein she wrung from him a promise to be careful, a secondary promise to get back home without undue delay so they could get to his mother’s for dinner, and a goodbye kiss with an extra one for good luck to all concerned, he went outside. As soon as he was out the door, his steps quickened and by the time he got to the car, he was all but running; he flung himself into the driver’s seat and fumbled for the thing still in his hoodie pocket.

Pulling out the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle, he examined it thoroughly, all of his detective’s senses ringing every alarm in his head. The chicken’s open mouth drew his attention, and feeling gingerly down its throat led him to a small, rolled piece of paper. Unrolling it dropped a key on his lap, while the paper itself said only “Key to my heart, baby. I’ll B waiting for U in R spot but wait too long and I’ll be in hot water.” Examining the rest of the chicken yielded no other clues.

Jowd raised his eyebrows and sighed as he put the car in drive, heading for the underground reservoir and treatment plant on the far edge of town. Zone B was out of his usual beat; he trusted Cabanela knew what he was doing, but… he grinned and put on speed. Par for the course with his rival and old friend. Explanations would wait, but dinner was also waiting.

At the reservoir station, the parking lot seemed unusually full for a holiday and Jowd parked with corresponding caution in a spot out of the way; his unmarked car was unobtrusive enougamongst the rest. He peered at the visible entrances and let out a satisfied huff as he spotted Cabanela’s bicycle parked next to the one that most obviously led to the tank below. As he got out, he kept an eye out for anyone who might prove an issue, but the whole place was eerily quiet as he sidled to the door. The key slid into the lock and turned easily. Just inside was a pay phone. The receiver was on the hook but as Jowd lifted it, he realized the wire connecting it had been neatly removed.

Inside, metal stairs led down several flights which Jowd walked down as quietly as possible, testing each step for creaks. He peeked through the door at the bottom while crouching as low as he could. The door opened to a small, raised area with a railing and an exposed stair down to the next level and a maintenance walkway to the center of the reservoir; Cabanela stood there in the center, cornered, up against a chain link fence and alone against a small group of five figures standing around him. Dark water lapped at the concrete columns surrounding the raised platform upon which they stood with only the fence separating the group and a quick dunk.

“We’ve got you now,” one of the men said roughly, voice carrying and echoing through the cavernous room. “This hide and seek game’s been real fun but it’s time to finish it up. Give us the key or you’re going in the water.”

“Come now, baby,” Cabanela said in his most provocative tones. “I’ve given you aaall the clues. Don’t know why you’re bein’ so slow at this. I obviously don’t have it on me.” He flapped the short jacket he wore outward to show the lining. “See? Nothin’ up my sleeve.”

“Shut up!” One of the other figures slapped a fist against his other hand. “Don’t make us beat it out of you!”

Cabanela laughed outright at that. “Please, baby, threats? That’s beneath you.” He glanced up at Jowd, registered his presence, but gave no sign as he turned his attention back to those around him. “Let’s hurry it along, kiddoes. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere to be?” one of the figures said angrily, “We could have been done with this days ago if you’d just—!” She took a swipe at Cabanela, but couldn’t touch him as he danced out of the way, feet graceful as he circumnavigated a bucket sitting on the concrete floor next to him. She hissed with frustration, and shoved the bucket aside with her foot, the better to try a lunge.

“Oh, I thiiink you’re missin’ the point,” Cabanela said, tripping her and dancing out of the way of someone else’s attempt to grab him. “But you’re close, baby, real close! All you have to do is use those brains of yours, instead of your fists. Or your feet!”

“Rather use my fists at this point,” the last figure grunted. “I’ve had enough of you to last a lifetime.”

Jowd nodded to himself, then looked up. As he’d half expected, he found a long, sturdy cable that connected to some point in the roof above him and went over the platform and down to some control area on another level. Hoisting himself up to the long narrow maintenance path that led above him was child’s play. He pulled out the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle and placed it over the wire but took a beat while ignoring the shouts and Cabanela’s ducking and dodging down below. He’d almost forgotten it was there, but there was something else still in his hoodie pocket, and he fished it out one-handed.

Kamila’s recorder sparkled there in the dim light, and Jowd’s face crinkled in delighted and slightly evil glee. He took a deep breath and put the mouthpiece to his lips, giving it a mighty blast as he grabbed both handles of the pulley and kicked off down his makeshift zipline. The little group down below had just enough time to take in the shrill sound of the whistle before Jowd burst through the chain link fence and was upon them, bowling them over like so many pins. They staggered and went down, leaving Cabanela to stand alone and laughing, a lanky and loose man of the law triumphant over them as Jowd dropped off the cable and landed next to him. Cabanela reached out and caught the rubber chicken with the pulley in the middle as it fell from the cable.

“Toook you long enough, baby,” he said, and shook the thing at Jowd. “You’re gettin’ slow in your old age. Suppose I shouldn’t have been expectin’ you to dress the part, Detective... but at least you had a theme song for your grand entrance. We’ll be teachin’ you showmanship yet!”

Jowd spat out the recorder, looked down at his maligned pajama pants and hoodie, and laughed softly. “Well, I was enjoying the holy night with my family, you know.”

“Justice never rests,” Cabanela retorted loftily, and looked around at the groaning group around him. “Ain’t that right, kids?”

“Detective Jowd?” One of the group sat up, disentangling himself from the man next to him. “Err… we weren’t expecting you, sir!” He put a hand to his head in uncertain salute, and Jowd gave him a lazy, two-fingered wave in the vicinity of his hair in lieu of a more formal return gesture.

Cabanela struck a pose and said, “Attention!” The five people around him scrambled upright and stood straight, saluting. Cabanela strolled down the short line.

“Uniforms… a mess. Suppose I can’t dock you too much for that given your ‘rescuer’ heeere. Even so, not a good look in any case.” He shot Jowd an ironic look. “Fooorm… all over the place.” He showed himself off with an ostentatious twirl. “Not a one of you landed a hit.”

“Untouched and spotless as usual,” Jowd muttered.

Cabanela ignored him as he reached out and knocked a knuckle against one of the men’s heads. “Demonstration of skills… not pretty, baby, not pretty at all. All in all, I’d have to call this a fail, kids. Better luck next time.”

“That’s not fair!” The lone woman in the group protested angrily. “We’ve been here for days trying to catch you; just because we didn’t expect some jerk in pajamas with a rubber chicken on a zipline to zoom in at the last minute…!”

“Baby, you fundamentally misunderstand the point of the exercise.” Cabanela shot her a disappointed look. “You have to be able to respond to unexpected situations and think on the fly as a detective. Might even have salvaged this yet if you’d worked together when an unexpected event happened.”

“But! You’re known for working alone!” the woman said. “You and Detective Jowd are famous for it!”

Cabanela shrugged. “That’s us, baby; we have our own ways of handlin’ things. You five, on the other hand, didn’t have a plan. That’s the wooorst failure of all.”

“Aw, man...” one of the other men said, then looked abashed and went silent.

“Think of it this way,” Jowd said with a genial smirk. “At least you get to go home for the rest of holy night. And next time, it’ll be me running the exercise. Won’t that be fun?”

“But we can’t go home yet,” one of the men burst out, as the rest looked dismayed and murmured amongst themselves. “We’re locked in until we find the key!”

“Now that’s just cruel,” Jowd murmured, for Cabanela’s ears alone. Aloud, he said, “And where do you think I came from? Cabanela’s right, you five are a little too green yet to pass the detective’s exam. Go on, get out of here. Up the stairs, door’s unlocked.”

“Yes, sir,” came the dispirited chorus, and the five of them began trudging up the stairs, leaving Jowd and Cabanela alone on the platform. Jowd looked around at the broken chain link fence.

“Well, that’s coming out of your budget,” he said. “What were you planning to do if Alma hadn’t given me your gift?”

“Oh, I trust her mooore than I trust you to remember these things, baby,” Cabanela returned, his voice abstracted. “Besides, I knew that phone call would get you here if nothin’ else worked.”

“Hmm.” Jowd looked down at the bucket of water, standing unobtrusively to the side, which had served double duty as a clue to the reservoir over the phone. “None of them thought that a standing bucket of water was an odd thing to find in an empty platform in the middle of plenty of water?” He bent down and sloshed in it, coming up with a rubber fish with a pulley in the middle, and dumped a key out of the fish’s mouth, tossing the key to Cabanela. “Better give that and the one you gave me back to the caretaker before we leave.”

“Don’t throw it if you’re that worried about it,” Cabanela retorted.

Jowd laughed and tossed the fish over his shoulder, and it flew through the hole in the chain link fence and down into the water underneath, sinking out of sight. “Fish go in the water. It’s just tidy. By the way, this gift was a weird one even for you.” He stared at the rubber chicken, still in Cabanela’s hand. “Where’d you get the idea?”

“Well, it had to be a chicken. That was a given. The rest of it? Eh, I asked one of the lab monkeys to design it for me.” Cabanela gave the recorder a pointed look. “Thaaat was for Kamila.”

“This is why your plan almost failed,” Jowd said, shaking it at Cabanela. “I’m pretty sure Alma is planning dire revenge for this thing. You’ve got a Kamila-concert to sit through in the near future.”

“Nooot happenin’!” Cabanela dropped the rubber chicken and made a swipe for the recorder; Jowd’s lightning quick fists took it out of his way just in time and Jowd shoved it back into his hoodie pocket. In a display of unusual clumsiness, Cabanela stumbled over the chicken, kicking it so it followed the fish into the water. Cabanela gave it the satisfied look of a gambit accomplished as Jowd caught him by the waist and set him upright before he followed it in.

“Oh, you’re definitely in for it now. Throwing away my favorite gift? Pretty sure that’s a crime on the books somewhere.” Jowd chuckled and turned away from the water, gesturing to the stairs. “Speaking of crimes, not too nice of you to keep the rooks working on a holiday, is it? I thought that one with the green lanyard would keel over when he saw me. And why the dramatics over the phone? What happened to just asking?”

“Really, baby. That little puzzle was juuust a little challenge to my rival. Ask? Whooo do you take me for?” Cabanela shot him an insulted look. Jowd shrugged; drama was an essential part of a Cabanela experience. There was no real point in asking why.

“Anyhoot, I was expecting this to be done daaays ago,” Cabanela continued. “Not my fault they didn’t have the brains of a rubber chicken with a pulley in it. Besides, I didn’t haaave anywhere to be. Holy night’s just another day when you’re a man of the law.” Cabanela said, walking past him.

“Of course you have a place to be,” Jowd retorted. “We both do. Dinner, my mother’s. She made pie! I’m told there’s noodles in it.”

“Unlikely,” Cabanela snorted. “Chicken, more likely.”

“Yeah, well,” Jowd said, not denying it, “Alma would probably kill me if I didn’t bring you back after all this. Come on with us to dinner.”

“Only if you go dressed in those spiffy new clothes laid out for you, if I know Alma,” Cabanela said lightly, as they walked up the stairs.

“Sure, sure,” Jowd said. “I’m pretty sure there’s some ‘spiffy’ new clothes for you too in some of those packages still under our tree.”

Cabanela stopped, his back to Jowd. “You had giiifts under the tree? For me?” he said, and scrubbed a hand through his slicked-back hair, absent-mindedly leaving it in a haphazard scruffle that he’d be horrified by later. “Can’t say I was expectin’ that from you, baby. You didn’t even know if I would be there.”

“Didn’t I?” Jowd said, and laughed. “Pretty sure I won my bet with Alma about the hour and minute I got your call. Anyway. I’m hungry and now you’re the slow one. Let’s get out of here and eat before it gets cold… enjoy some of that after-dinner music Alma was promising.” He scooped Cabanela up and slung him over his shoulder, jogging up the stairs two at a time while ignoring his lanky old friend’s protests. As they made their way back to a place of cacophany and chaos, Jowd didn’t spare a thought for the rubber chicken with a pulley in it, still sinking to the bottom of the deep water of the Zone B reservoir. It was gone, and it wasn’t coming back; the light and music of home called him more than those dark depths.

Cabanela slung an arm around Jowd’s shoulder as they walked into the house. Alma drew them into a hug despite not yet forgiving Cabanela the recorder, and they retreated together into the light. For just a little longer yet, they stood together as a bulwark against destiny, their stalwart presence a gift to each other that would fend off the ocean at the heart of the year’s longest night.

[sfblah]

The Cleanup Crew - Tactical Maid Service

[Previous Chapter]

Chapter 2 time

Now to meet the rest of the main cast. Things still haven't really gotten tactical yet, but should I finish the third chapter sometime this century I promise this series will actually live up to its name eventually lol.

Female sneezes - Various causes

Operation "Crackers"

Cleanup Cafe. A cafe. With maids. A maid cafe.

And today, with one more maid than before.

Over an hour remains until the cafe opens, but she goes around back to the staff entrance anyway. Her hand stops short of the door handle, and her shoulder-length ponytail sways in the breeze for a moment before she finds her resolve and steps inside. 

The break room is more or less what she expected: a table, a few chairs, a series of lockers, and an outdated computer in the corner. The only thing that might seem out of place in any other cafe is the collection of weapons displayed on one wall. Pistols, rifles, shotguns, and so on, most of which she recognizes from various video games. Her eyes drift across a few empty pegs, and she can only hope she wasn’t supposed to bring her own.

“Ah, Miss Bucket, you’ve arrived.”

A low, calm, and mature voice, but it still startles the maid enough to make her jump. It sounds like the same person she’d spoken to after her assessment, but there’s really no way to be sure. And… ‘Miss Bucket’? She really should have done more to assert that that would not be her nickname.

A tall, proper woman emerges from around the corner, blonde hair in a claw clip updo and clad in a black and white maid outfit. Sharp but tired eyes pierce through the large, circular lenses of her glasses, and Bucket finds herself frozen to the spot.

“Uh. Hi,” she stammers, unable to give even a little wave. Why is she so anxious? She already got the job. Just clock in, collect a paycheck, and…

“Again I’d like to welcome you to The Cleanup Crew. You may call me ‘Kerchief,’ or simply ‘Manager.’ I hope you enjoy your first day with us.”

Bucket fidgets in place.

“Um, yeah. You too. I mean… Yeah.”

“Please don’t be nervous,” commands Kerchief, her flat tone of voice doing little to reassure her new subordinate. “I’m sure you want to meet the rest of the team, but first, I have an assignment for you.”

Bucket gulps. Is this going to be some kind of initiation thing? Something to get blood on her hands and keep her from running off and snitching? Kerchief begins to move away from the weapon wall, and Bucket enjoys a moment of relief before her manager pushes open the door to the kitchen.

“Your first task is to prepare something to eat. It could be a meal, a snack, anything that strikes your fancy. Then, you are to come out to the floor and serve us as if we were your customers. I think that would be a lovely way for you to introduce yourself.”

After Kerchief disappears into the next room, Bucket takes a second to shake out her nervousness, wiggling from her feet all the way to her head. She skips through the door, and… It’s just a kitchen. No command center, no vast collection of weapons. Hardly any euphemisms for murder to be found. For better or worse, the maid has little time to catch up before Kerchief is already on the way out another door.

“We’ll be right through here, Miss Bucket. See you soon.”

“Wait, I…”

And the door swings shut.

Bucket limply lifts her hands and lets them fall back to her sides. Great. Time to navigate this whole-ass restaurant-ass kitchen, because she definitely knows how to do that. Gotta start somewhere, just open a cabinet, any old cabinet.

Seasoning. Condiments. Is salt a condiment?

The pepper grinder lays on its side, along with a sprinkling of that black and gray dust. Bucket frowns and shuts the door, grumpily pressing her fingers across the underside of her nose as she turns away.

Just make something simple. More involved than handing out ketchup packets, but this didn’t exactly seem like a Michelin star operation.

Bucket squats down, checking the cabinets below the counter this time. Her eyes clench shut and she gives her pudgy nose an upward wipe with her palm, still feeling a peppery itch somewhere inside. Then, once she finally has a chance to look… Flour!

Perfect! Flour goes in all kinds of stuff, like bread, and other things made out of bread. Bucket grabs the bag, struggling with its surprising weight for a moment, and slams it down on the counter. She spies a stack of mixing bowls at the other end of the counter, and she slides over the biggest one she can get her hands on. Ready to finally get started, she tears the bag of flour open and begins to pour.

Suddenly, Bucket’s mind and expression both go blank. Flour continues to flow as the maid’s teardrop-shaped nostrils flare and constrict. Like it or not, it seems the pepper is ready to leave.

“ah… ah-ahh…”

The last of the flour falls into the bowl as Bucket’s breathing begins to heave and hitch. The bag wasn’t big enough to completely overfill the bowl, but a veritable mountain of white powder stands before her nonetheless. At least, until…

“aaAAH-CHOOOO!!!”

The hapless maid sneezes up a blizzard that envelops half the kitchen. Her face and clothes above the waist are completely covered in flour, a few clumps falling away as she weakly opens her eyes. She barely has time to realize what happened before her face scrunches up again and she delivers another “haa-CHHHOOO!” into the bowl.

After the second explosion of flour settles, Bucket cringes and cracks one eye open. The blow is softened ever so slightly by the kitchen’s already largely white decor, but the powdery mess is undeniable.

“Oops…” she mumbles, sheepishly rubbing an outstretched index finger back and forth under her nostrils. After a look over her shoulder at the door to the cafe floor, Bucket makes a token effort at brushing herself off as she runs back to the break room. Partway there it occurs to her that she really should be doing this outside, and so she flings herself through the exit door. Maybe she can change into a fresh uniform and pretend none of this ever happened. Just sweep the flour out and then the wind will… Th-the wind will…

“ah-ahh-ahhh-CHOOO!!”

A layer of white bursts away from the maid as she sneezes again. She snuffles and rubs a finger hard under her nose, bending it from side to side. And when she straightens up, Bucket finds salvation gazing upon her from across the street.

Paying no attention to any potential traffic and still blotchy with flour, Bucket flees to the catty-corner convenience store. She clumsily ducks down to hopefully avoid being seen through the cafe’s front window, and a moment later she sneaks her way back with equal care, hugging a tub of premade frosting and a box of club crackers to her chest.

“Um… H-hi, master. Sorry for the wait,” Bucket stammers, finally emerging from the kitchen. One hand holds a plate of frosted cra- Frosted cookies, while the other timidly rubs her nose. Her voice cracks when she sees not one, not two, but three fellow maids seated around a table. One of them is Kerchief, her manager from earlier, but the others are new to her.

On the left is a pale, gloomy maid with a bob of green hair and long, straight bangs that completely cover her face above the cheekbones. Including both eyes. If she even has eyes. And on the right sits a boyish, muscular maid wearing a lopsided smile. Dark skin, short and spiky black hair, and a bandage across the bridge of her long, upturned nose. Both turn to face their new companion, and each gives a little wave. Bucket swallows nervously and resumes her approach.

As she arrives at the table, muscle maid leaps from her chair and rushes over.

“Hey there, Bucket! Pleased to meet’cha!” she exclaims, offering a hard slap on the shoulder. Her other hand flies to the plate and pops a frosted cracker into her mouth.

“Ooh, nice cookies,” she says as she chews. “Sweet and salty’s a good mix. Anyway, call me Duster!” She pauses to swallow. “And this is Mop!” She gestures to the green-haired maid, who ‘looks’ up at Bucket and wordlessly waves again. “Welcome to the team!”

Kerchief, Duster, Mop, and Bucket. What a world. Settling into panic mode autopilot, Bucket deposits her plate on the table and sits in the one vacant chair. Mop and Kerchief each take a cracker of their own, and Bucket feels a massive weight lift from her shoulders when neither offers a complaint.

“What’s your secret ingredient?” Mop suddenly asks, startling Bucket out of her trance. Her lips part, but before she can bullshit an answer, her nostrils decide to respond for her. “Well, I… I… ah… ahh… CHOOOO!!”

[moonhoures]

like lovers do

pairing: jooheon (monsta x) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, coworkers!au, fluff

warnings: no smut!

word count: ~1.8K

synopsis: a secret work romance definitely has its pros and cons . . .

a/n: this one’s pretty short with no smut, so i’m pretty sure it won’t do well in terms of notes, but i had fun writing this! it was really fluffy and refreshing, so i hope you all enjoy it 😌

posted: may 16, 2022

When you were asked at nine years old what you wanted to be when you were older, you had answered with “a doctor!”. Of course, that was before you grew up and realized just how many years of school and how much money went into being a doctor. You also quickly realized that you didn’t quite have the stomach for being a doctor—the sight of lots of blood made you feel queasy. So once you finished college, you found yourself working a short-term position at a corporate office downtown. After five years, that “short-term” position turned into a long-term position, and you had even been promoted twice.

Now, you spent your nine-to-five days in your nicely-decorated office, listening to music while you did your paperwork and took five-minute social media breaks. One of your favorite parts of the job, though, was going into the kitchen every morning at the same time to make your coffee.

Every morning, Monday through Friday, at exactly 9:15 a.m, as you walked into the company kitchen you were greeted by the lovely, raven-haired man who was also making his coffee. He flashed his pretty eye smile and dimpled cheek in your direction, immediately making your heart flutter.

Today, you noticed he was wearing a white button-down with the sleeves loosely rolled up to his forearms. His expensive-looking watch gleamed under the fluorescent lighting, making his already put-together demeanor seem intimidating. But you knew him well enough to know he was far from intimidating; on the contrary, he was the nicest man you had ever met since you started working here five years ago.

“Good morning, ________,” his honey-like voice rang through the room that only the two of you occupied at the moment.

“Good morning, Jooheon,” you replied as you met him in front of the coffee maker. It was in the middle of brewing, making a quiet humming noise as it poured the medium roast into the pot. Without a word, your handsome coworker grabbed your favorite mug from the cupboard—a plain white mug with a small smiley face on the handle—and handed it to you. Shortly after you thanked him, his mouth expanded as a yawn escaped it, “Still tired?”

He shrugged passively with an inkling of a smirk on his lips, “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Hm, I wonder why that is,” you noted with the corner of your own lips starting to curl.

He was opening his mouth to reply when the kitchen door opened and another coworker walked in. Both of your eyes looked to the entrance as Lia, the fairly new and outgoing addition to your department, was entering with a cheery smile, “Morning!”

You and Jooheon greeted her just as the coffee machine was sputtering to a stop. The last few drops were falling as Jooheon gestured for you to go first. You obliged with a grateful smile, unaware that he only did it so he could watch you in your state of concentration. His office was on the other side of the floor from yours, so he rarely saw you during work hours. Moment like these were precious to him.

He liked watching your delicate hands rip open two packets of sugar and pour them into your mug. And the way you subconsciously hummed as you stirred the drink before taking your first sip. He wondered if you realized that your nose crinkled every time you took the first sip of coffee.

Jooheon hadn’t realized he yawned a second time until Lia commented on it, “Tired, Jooheon?”

He chuckled softly along with her as she went about heating up a muffin she brought from home, “Yeah, I was just telling _______ that I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Oh? You have a loud neighbor too, huh?” she asked, conversing with him as if you weren’t in the middle of them. You didn’t mind though.

“No,” he shyly confirmed, “I, uh, had someone stay over at my place.”

Her eyes seemed to perk up at the implication, “Is that so? Was this a special someone?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he spoke casually as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It took everything in him not to watch you walk out of the room then. Part of him wished you had stayed to hear what he said next.

“Glad you had fun,” Lia remarked with a friendly, teasing smile. She took her warm muffin from the microwave, “I’m sure they’re lovely.”

“They really are,” he said under his breath, a stupid grin on his lips as he stared down into the mug sitting in front of him.

Later that evening, at 5:27 p.m, you pulled into the driveway of an apartment that wasn’t yours but might as well have been. You had spent almost every other night here for the past year, and your boyfriend made it a point every time you came over to tell you that you were practically wasting your rent money. Today was no different.

After you walked in and set your necessities down, you made your way to the living room where that familiar, dimpled grin greeted you yet again.

“Hello, gorgeous. How was work today?”

“Slow,” you sighed, plopping onto the couch beside him, his arm resting behind you. His hand rubbed your shoulder as he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, it was pretty slow on my end too,” he shrugged, “My morning was great though. I had the pleasure of making coffee with the most wonderful person at the company.”

You rolled your eyes as a knowing smile crept onto your lips. Even after all this time, his corny jokes still had this affect on you, “You’re such a dork. Speaking of, could you be anymore obvious?”

“What? Lia had no idea I was talking about you,” he laughed while you turned on the TV and flipped through channels for something to watch.

“You don’t know that. She may not seem like it, but she’s very observant,” you chided him softly, “Besides, it’s so unprofessional to talk about that at work.”

“My personal life?” he joked.

“That you didn’t get any sleep because you had someone over. Anyone with a brain can figure out what that means.”

“I think my coworker just might have their mind in the gutter,” he playfully poked your arm, “Also, do you like watching the channels switch or do you plan on actually picking a show to watch?”

You sighed again, “Nothing looks good.”

“Maybe instead of paying rent for an apartment you barely stay in, you should just move in and pay for the cable bill.”

You snorted and remarked sarcastically, “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll have my bags packed in the morning.“

Jooheon was painfully aware of the joking tone to your voice, but today he was tired of the playful banter.

“I’m serious, you know,” his voice reflected his words, which took you off guard. Jooheon was always really friendly, outgoing, and light. It was rare to see a steely, unsmiling look on his face like the one he had now, “I want you to move in with me.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment it felt like the world was melting around you. It was just the two of you. You loved Jooheon so much; you made sure to tell him at least five times a day. But moving in was a big step for any relationship, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to take it.

“You know we can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked, a sorrowful arch forming in his brow, “It might seem a little quick, but we’ve been together for over a year now. And it would make going to work a lot easier on the both of us.”

“That’s just it. We can’t go to work together,” you spoke quietly, “If our boss finds out we’re dating, we could both get fired. And I don’t trust our coworkers enough to not say anything if they find out. It’s too risky.”

“Then we just won’t carpool. We’ll drive to work in our own cars like we always do, and no one will ever know the difference.“

He sounded as though he was gripping onto the last string of hope he had—pleading. You were stubborn, and he knew that. He knew it would take some persuasion to get you to warm up to the idea of living together. But love made you do stupid things . . . like break your company’s no dating policy to date the new, cute, black-haired, dimpled-cheek guy in your department. You knew it was wrong, but everything felt so right with Jooheon.

“Y’know, at first it was weird having you over all the time. I never really had anyone stay the night, and I wasn’t sure how I would feel about it. But with you it felt so natural. When you leave in the mornings, I get sad because I have to wait twenty minutes to see you again. I hate not seeing you at work, and when I do, I have to act like we don’t sleep in the same bed almost every night. When you stay at your apartment instead of mine, my bed feels empty. I don’t want to feel like that anymore, _______.”

“Okay.”

“‘Okay’?”

“I . . . guess I’ll move in,” you relented. After all, he was right about you wasting your rent money. In fact, the last time you went to your apartment to collect mail, your neighbor had said they thought you moved out. So, maybe it wasn’t entirely outlandish for you to finally do it, “Not right away, of course. Only once my lease is up, then we can discuss move in plans, alright?”

It was more than alright. Jooheon’s smile was practically splitting his face in two with how wide it was. The best relationship he had ever been in was progressing, and he felt like he could dance or sing or both; he was so excited. The next thing you knew, you were being engulfed in the tightest hug imaginable.

“I love you, you know that?”

“You might’ve told me a few times,” you chuckled, your body melting into his embrace as you let him kiss your cheek three times, “I love you, too.”

By some miracle, you ended up finding a decent show to watch a few minutes later. You two settled back against the couch, talking about how fun it would be once you moved in. Jooheon mentioned how you two could actually enjoy your weekends together instead of thinking about you going home. Movie nights would be more frequent. He would have to make room in his closet for your stuff, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t wait to go to sleep next to you every night knowing your face would be the first thing he would see in the morning. Everything felt like it was falling into place, and he couldn’t be happier.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a like, reblog, and/or a message in my inbox! i would love to hear your feedback! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[fueledbyapplepi]

I love your writing it's so good!!! Could I have reader having a crush on the boys and giving them a kiss while they think the boys are asleep and confessing their love to them with mikey, chifuyu and the haitani brothers? Im just so soft for those boys!!!

Sleep Tight | Mikey, Chifuyu, Ran, and Rindou

- Confessing to the boys while they're (not really) asleep

genre: 🌸 fluff 🌸

warnings: minor cussing

A/N: Thank you, anon! I really got into writing this one ( ◜‿◝ )♡ Also, I honestly think I need to come up with better titles because it sounds like a word vomit to me LMAO Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Mikey (Sano Manjiro)

Life would be nice if you had someone by your side who felt the same way about you.

You already have Mikey by your side, making every day much easier to get by. But does he feel the same way with you?

You practically grew up together with Mikey. Being neighbors with the man, you often come by to play with them as kids- leading to a blooming friendship. Although more often, it was you watching Mikey train in his grandfather’s dojo, where he never fails to amaze you with his tricks. Sometimes, you’ll have sleepovers together with Emma and Mikey where you’ll watch movies with them. Only for Mikey to be sound asleep halfway through the movie.

Growing up, nothing has changed that much with that routine. The only thing that has changed is your growing feelings for Mikey.

You saw the ups and downs in his life. From the time he established Toman to losing Shinichiro, you were there to witness how he would build a castle from the rocks of his downfalls.

So it was no surprise that you find your heart beating much faster when he’s around.

Childish as he is, you can’t deny the fact that Mikey is charismatic, beautiful, and kind. But, you never had the chance to tell him what you feel. Because what if he never saw you the same way?

You looked at Mikey, who’s currently sitting by your side almost half asleep. His head swings from side to side as he struggles on whether he should watch the movie or not.

“Mikey, you always never get to finish our movie nights. You’re no fun.” Emma pouted at his brother as she turned off the television.

“Mhmm, not sleepy.” Mikey turned to look at you then at Emma before leaning on your shoulder. “Just a little.”

Your heart flutters from close contact. “Maybe he’s tired from one of Toman’s meetings.” You turned to look at Emma with a sorry face

Sighing, Emma stepped out of the room as she looked at you, “I’ll get us a blanket, wait here Y/N.”

Your face felt hot as you realized that you were left alone in the room with Mikey. Well, this isn’t unusual for you two but with the strong feelings you have for him, you just can’t help but blush.

You looked at Mikey, his eyelashes seemed a bit longer, making his eyes more beautiful. His lips, although chapped, pouted with the way he’s comfy with you.

“Mikey, can you stop being so pretty? It makes me want to kiss you,” you whispered, thinking that Mikey’s probably dozing off to dreamland.

Mikey opened out one of his eyes to take a peek at you. All the sleepiness vanishing from his body. Did he just hear you right? “Then kiss me, Y/N.”

“Heh? Mikey, you’re awake?” you felt embarrassment creeping into you. “Mikey...I...look, sorry. I-”

Your blabbering mouth was silenced with a peck on the lips. Mikey kissing all your worries away.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you. Your foreheads touching and nose brush against each other.

You felt like you’re on cloud nine. Is this real? Mikey likes you too?

Before you could say anything, the door opened with Emma looking at the two of you weirdly. “Hehhh, am I interrupting something?”

You and Mikey looked at Emma. An embarrassed look on both of your faces as if you were caught red-handed.

Now, there’s a lot of explaining to do.

Chifuyu Matsuno

No matter how many times you try, you always seem to lose.

But who won’t?

With Chifuyu’s angelic smile and kind eyes, your determination to admit your feelings for him always seems to waver. It’s just that your thoughts always fly out the window and anxiousness gets the best of you.

You’ve known Chifuyu for quite some time now. Baji, who’s your cousin, introduced him to you as Toman’s 1st Division Vice-Captain and most trusted partner. Of course, it was only natural for you to be wary of him. Baji might trust him, but he could be some sort of drug dealer or serial killer. Who knows?

You’re wrong though. The more time you spend with Chifuyu, the more you appreciate his presence. How can you not? He always lends you a helping hand whenever you need it. As cliche as it sounds, Chifuyu is like the knight and shining armor in your life.

And now here he is. Once again saving you from another horrible situation.

Chifuyu offered you a ride when he found you drenched from the rain in Shinagawa. Apparently, the weather wouldn’t be pleasant today but you forgot to read the weather forecast. Currently, he brought you to his home for the meantime as the rain wouldn’t be stopping until tomorrow.

“I’ll just text and let Baji-san know that you’ll be staying here.” Chifuyu handed you a blanket as he laid on his futon.

“Thank you, Chifuyu. But I swear it’s okay for me to sleep there. This is your bed anyway.” You said embarrassed.

Chifuyu yawned. Tiredness dropping from his eyes. “It’s alright, Y/N. I can’t let Baji-san’s pretty cousin sleep on the floor.” He smiled at you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

You laid on the bed silently. Blushing from his compliment. Did he just call you beautiful?

You looked at the ceiling for about a good minute before turning to Chifuyu. “Chifuyu-san, I-”

A soft sleeping figure cut you off. The light from the lamp outside reflected on his beautiful features.

You padded off your feet on the floor and sat right next to Chifuyu. Observing him, you notice that he looks prettier when he’s peaceful like this.

You hesitatingly brushed your fingers on his hair. While massaging it, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by your emotions. “I like you, Chifuyu-san.” You smiled proudly at yourself as you finally got to admit your feelings even though he’s asleep.

However, you noticed that the sleeping figure in front of you stiffened and reddened from your statement. Eyes wide, you held a hand in your mouth.

“Chifuyu-san, are you awake?” You hoped that he wasn’t.

But apparently, he is. “I guess you caught me.” Chifuyu sat up and scratched his head as he smiled at you sheepishly. “That felt nice though.”

“I’m sorry!” You bowed your head, hair hiding your flustered state.

“I like it!” Chifuyu panicked. “I mean, no. I like it. But, I like you too, Y/N-san.”

You laughed. At the same time, feeling extremely happy from what you just had heard.

“I guess we have some explaining to do with Baji-san.” you teased him

“Mhmm. But,” he held your hand and put it into his hair. “Would you continue that?” Chifuyu smiled.

“Of course.” You smiled at him, continuing your hair massages.

Looks like you won this time.

Ran Haitani

You’re no medical expert. The only knowledge you got was based on textbooks and first aid knowledge.

Yet somehow, Ran would always come knocking on your door whenever he has cuts or injuries. Sometimes, even without one, he would come by at your place and complain that his body is painful.

And it’s one of those nights again as you hear a soft knock on the door.

Moving to Roppongi, you were warned about the Haitani brothers. How you must stay away from them because they’re just no good. However, you somehow managed to come across the elder Haitani while you were shopping at a local store when he asked you what hair dye he should use.

This little interaction moved from one way to the other and now, ever since Ran found out where you live, he always comes by to let you heal his “injuries”.

You’re not complaining though. Despite the rumors and warnings, Ran was much more different from what other people say. He may be cocky and teasing, but the beautiful man sure is nice when it comes to you.

Causing you to develop a little crush on him.

You opened the door as you welcomed Ran. “Now, what do we have for tonight?”

Ran stepped in as he walked towards the couch. Laying as if he lives around here. “I got a bump on my forehead.” He pointed out as he pouted at you.

“You have Rindou! And you call yourself notorious but you come here whining like a baby.” you rolled your eyes as you got in the kitchen getting an ice pack for the man.

“Here.” You handed out the ice pack as you stood up in front of him.

“No.” Ran rolled his eyes. “Kiss it, Y/N.” he pouted once again.

“You’re not a baby, Ran. Tch.” you sighed as you sat across him. “Take a nap here and I’ll cook for you when you wake up.”

“Now, wifey material aren’t we.” Ran teased as he closed his eyes. Holding the ice packet against his forehead.

About a good 10 minutes have passed and you never heard another bicker from Ran. As you look at him, the man seems to be sleeping like a log.

You crouched down near him. Observing his features. You must say, he’s quite beautiful and more attractive when less chaotic.

“You’re such a big baby.” Thinking that he’s asleep, you kissed the small bump on his forehead.

As you got up to prepare his late dinner, a hand clutched yours.

You felt your body freeze for a moment as you turned around and saw a bastard smiling cockily.

“Do it again, Y/N.” Ran grinned at you as he held on tighter on your hand. “I’m a big baby but your baby.”

“Let me go!.” your face was beat red as you tried to yank off your hands. Only failing as Ran grabbed your arms causing you to fall on top of him.

“I like you, Y/N” Ran hugged you tightly while you were a blushing mess on top of him. “So let's just stay like this for a while.”

And you did.

Being with Ran isn’t so bad after all.

Rindou Haitani

If there’s one thing you’re proud of, it’s the skill you have for coloring people’s hair.

You like dyeing your hair, your friend’s hair, your cousins, and to just anyone who asks for your help. So it was no surprise when Rindou asked you to help him in doing his highlights.

Of course you can’t say no. Not because he is a Haitani but because you actually like his presence. When you’re around him, everything seems more calm and peaceful.

Despite being a menace around Roppongi, you and Rindou are actually good friends. You’ve known each other when he saved your ass around a group of guys who tried to harass you. And although he was stoic to you at first, he was able to ease up to you because of your caring nature.

After all, you recognized him as Rindou Haitani and not “Ran’s younger brother”. And he appreciated you for it.

So now here you are in their living room. Currently finished in dyeing Rindou’s hair.

“And there you have it. We just have to wait for an hour or so before washing it.” You tidied all the mess up as Ran sat and observed you. “By the way, why won’t you let me dye Ran’s hair?”

He raised an eyebrow upon your question. “Because he can’t have you.” Your eyes widened from his statement. Rindou, realizing what he just said, covered it up with an excuse. “I mean, I want him to dye his own hair and let it look shit. If he wants someone to dye his hair properly, he can go to the salon.”

You laughed at his statement. Well, he can actually crack up jokes once in a while if he loosens up his strict facade. “Oh Rindou, we also need to buy an extra conditioner.”

You looked up and saw the man with closed eyes. Deciding that you don’t want to disturb his sleep, you sat quietly beside him and observed him.

Rindou is already handsome with his glasses. But you realized that he looks much cuter without one.

He just looks good in anything.

You traced the bridge of his nose as you admired his features. “You know what? I actually might have feelings for you.” you muttered softly as you smiled.

“Let’s go out on a date then.” Rindou opened his eyes as he looked at you. Your lips a few inches away from his.

“Rindou!!!” You sat up straight. “I thought you were-”

“Asleep? Well I’m not.” he smiled at you as reached out for your hand. “But I meant it Y/N. I like you, and I want us to go on a date.” Rindou looked at you, hoping for an immediate response.

He does like you. After all, you were the only person who he was able to open up to other than Ran.

“Okay.” You smiled as you brushed your thumb at the top of his hand.

Rindou caressed your cheeks. Leaning in and going for a kiss.

“Ohh. Can I join?” a teasing voice butted in. Causing you two to look at the tall man who’s leaning in the doorframe. “I mean can I join Y/N’s dye party? Just continue that later.”

“Ran, get out!” Rindou shouted as he pointed at the door to his brother.

Well, things quickly escalated with the brothers.

As well as your relationship with Rindou.

[heyhoneyybunn]

Stealing their crisps !

Characters: Miya Atsumu, Akaashi Keiji, Suna Rintaro, Kenma Kozume, Oikawa Tooru

Warnings: fluff, crisps????

| Part one | Part two |

➵ Miya Atsumu

The room was quiet, safe for the obnoxious yapping noises radiating from Atsumu every time he shoves a new handful of crisps in his mouth. With the bag purposely placed away from you – insisting it was a punishment for telling him you didn’t want anything at the store, you begin to hatch a plan.

It was almost too easy to convince him to watch a horror movie, and as the climax of the film builds, you ready to strike. The intensity grows making him lean forward, subconsciously stopping everything, his snack filled hand wavers closer and closer. Quick as lightning, you pounce, launching your face to his hand and swiping the crisps clean. Your sudden movement, like a cobra striking, makes him jump as he stares at you and then his empty hand – crestfallen. How can you betray him like this.

“Baby, why would you do that?”

You point your nose to the ceiling pettily and choose to say nothing as you watch him watch you chomp his stolen food.

➵ Akaashi Keiji

Kind boy, you don’t have to steal from him. His knowing gaze immediately understands your expression of longing – one that he knows all too well – this time it wasn’t aimed at him, but his snack. He places the bag in the middle and although it’s cheesy, you split the last crisp – something he finds oddly romantic as he blushes lightly – clinking them together before chomping them happily.

➵ Suna Rintaro

When he sees the innocent look in your eyes, pleading for just a scrap of crisp at the very least, he can never resist for too long, so he decides to indulge you – on his terms. After feeling your burning gaze for one too many minutes, he turns to you, eyebrows raised asking if you want some.

At first you’re ecstatic, of course you do! But then you’re suspicious, why was he giving in so easily? So you accept with an air of caution, weary of any conditions.

“Sharing is caring Rin,” you pout, longingly.

“Okay fine, but there’s a catch. The condition is, I have to feed you,” he says slyly as you try to decipher his plans. You may be crafty but he is cunning.

Surprise flits across your face as you grow wary of his sudden urge to be romantic, you slowly lean into his hand. It wasn’t long before you realise what he’s doing.

“Rin stop trying to feed me the small rotten crisps!”

➵ Kenma Kozume

Gaming and snacks – it’s your guy’s thing. What’s not his thing though, is when you tire of your own and move onto his stash. Instead of dealing with this head on and trying to fight you for his own crisps – he finds a solution.

“Kenma, what’s all that?” You asked, curious to see what’s bundled in his arms. He drops the stuff onto the desk, sorting through the piles to even them out, you notice he’s bought two of everything he usually gets.

You pout teasingly, “But Kenma, it tastes better when it’s yours.”

The slight edge of worry in his tone is enough to make you stifle a laugh, “I’m sure it’ll taste the same from your own packet.”

➵ Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa has no problem with sharing, it’s you that takes the piss. As he explains enthusiastically his eagerness to share with you, it’s not until you steal the pack from its designated place in the middle and run, that his expression turns sombre. You hear him thundering after you as you’re trying to shove as many crisps in your mouth as you possibly can.

“Get back here!”

When he finally catches you, and snatches takes the packet away, relieved to find that there are still some crisps in there, his dramatics begin. He ‘hmphs’, turns away from you and locks the door while he finishes his crisps in peace, but not before giving you the most disappointed look he can muster, which is hard to take seriously when he’s clutching onto the bag and acting like you’ve harmed his first born child.

[emmyrosee]

Idk… I’m in like. A big Suna mood, friends

He’s just such a chaotic good, such an absolute loser, and how anyone thinks he’s more than someone who willingly, and for fun, plops down on the couch with uncooked instant noodles with the packet and eats them straight is beyond me.

The worlds most obnoxious snuggle bug, latches himself onto you when he’s tired and will not let you go. He’s adorable, of course he is, but to say he���s not the bane of your existence would also be an absolute lie, and makes using the bathroom sometimes infinitely more difficult than it needs to be.

(“Rin, I have to pee-“

“Pee the bed.”

“Absolutely not, if you’d just give me three minutes of my own personal space-“

“No. We’ve been together for four years. Your personal space is my personal space.”)

Sometimes, if he has the energy, he’ll let you go but literally seconds later, you hear padding feet outside of the door, a small poomf on the floor, and when you’re finished washing your hands, you’re greeted with the sight of Rin on the floor, scrolling through tiktok. “Seriously?” “You missed a really funny one.”

Every now and again, him being such a pain in the ass causes you to get into little fights, little spats here and there, and when you get into these fights it’s not impossible to have them turn into little ridiculous digs that you both know are things you love about each other, but are just ammunition for a petty disagreement.

(“You’re just mad that my hairline isn’t receding!”

“Oh yeah? At least I don’t dip my chicken nuggets into my milkshakes!”)

Sometimes, when he’s out of things to say (or he’s just in the wrong and he wants the fight to stop) he says very out of pocket things to throw you off.

(“I think you’re just jealous!”

“Of what?” You scoff.

“That I can juggle, and you can’t.”

“…..what?”) It’s an easy way to break up the ‘fight’ and have you giggling at him once again.

Sometimes, you come home, and something is very, very off. You cock your brow, you put down your keys and shrug off your coat, and with a call of his name, he quickly calls back “I love you!”

“Rin what did you do?” And after a few beats of silence, this man has the audacity, the gall, to round the corner with an animal in his arms, and the worlds most swollen eyes and red cheeks, and your jaw slacks. “Rin.”

(“It’s a baby! We have to keep her!”

“You’re deathly allergic to dander.”

“But it’s a baby.”)

This happens at least twice a month. Quickly prompted by a stop at the shelter so the animal can be put for adoption and rescued, and then a stop at the hospital for anaphylactic shock.

WILL, and I mean WILL, put off any gosh damn task you ask him to do; dishes, laundry, cooking, dusting, the only thing he does without argument is trash because once, he actually forgot to do it, and it was a wonderful time trying to get rid of the smell in your kitchen.

But otherwise, he waits until you offer to do it, and he shrugs and says “let’s just do it together.” And it’s so cute he wants to do things with you, and that’s the only reason you don’t leave him for it.

He knows all of your tells for anything you may be feeling- emotional or physical. He knows when you’re nervous, you fiddle with your fingers and dig at your cuticles, so he gets you some rings to fidget with. He knows you’re about to be sick when your eyes look heavy and you are extra, extra cuddly.

(“Don’t puke on me, let me get a bucket.”

“I’m not gonna puke.”

“And I don’t believe you, now stay.”

And you elbow him extra hard when he’s got the cockiest smirk while rubbing your back.)

[certified-sloth]

Ok but imagine one of the brothers just following you all over in the human world after the exchange program

But he finds how horrible they treat you and it's either he brings you back to Devildom, or you ask him to take you back

Warning!! May be triggering to some readers, please read at your own risk!!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lucifer

"I left my work and I never would have expected this kind of behavior towards you." The eldest stated, sitting at the edge of your bed with crossed arms.

Sighing in defeat, you sat on the floor and looked up at him with tired eyes.

"It's not like I haven't done anything wrong, it's just that some people pick on others for their own entertainment." You responded.

"They're immature."

"And you're not?" You asked with a small grin plastered on your face.

He scoffs at you, "I'm the eldest of my brothers. I hold a huge responsibility, having fun is a hard matter to come by."

You didn't bother replying, and the room was enveloped with silence.

"...would you like for me to bring you back to Devildom for a break?" He offered.

You met his eyes in slight hope, "is that ok?"

Nodding in confirmation, he answers you.

"Of course."

Mammon

"If it weren't for ya, I woulda jumped them already." He complained with a deep frown.

You nod, "i'm sorry."

It took him a moment to realize as he turns to you confused. "Why are you apologizing?"

"What-"

"Take that back right now. You ain't done nothing." He cut you off with furrowed eyebrows.

"..." you look at him dumbfounded.

"Listen, MC. You should've told us, mostly me, but if you said something before you left, then maybe I coulda asked Lucifer to-" he pauses and stares at you.

"You didn't wanna bother, did ya?"

You couldn't form words, so you only ended up nodding as an answer.

Sighing in frustration he smacks your head lightly.

"And I thought I was dumb." He mutters to himself before shaking his head.

"Whatever bothers you, bothers me too. So there's no point in not tryin-" he cut himself off and looks away, clearing his throat.

"I-I mean, it's not like I want ya problematic or anything... it's just that... I don't like how you're treated." He excused with a faint blush forming on his cheeks.

"We already said that the house of lamentation is your home too! You're always welcomed there..." he trailed off before sighing in defeat.

"I can't believe i'm doing this. J-just... it's your choi-"

You smiled before telling him, "take me home."

He blinks as what you said caught him off-guard.

"Really?"

You giggle and confirmed. "It's not like there's much left for me here anyway."

He laughs, but soon yelped when you take hold of his hand.

Looking away in slight embarrassment, he mumbles.

"Yeah, home..."

Leviathan

He spams his controls, half of his focus on the game, and the other half had his mind stressed out over your well-being.

"You've ENDURED this?" Levi started, turning to you the moment he finished his game.

You stare at him confused. "Yes..?"

He watches you with a deep frown. "Can't you just abandon them? They've done nothing but hurt you."

"And where will I go if I do?" You asked him.

He answered, "Home!"

Smiling at him amused, you asked another question. "And where is that, 'home'?"

He pauses and blushes slightly. "Now you're just teasing me..."

You giggle before you pulled him into a hug, making him flinch.

"Y-you don't even look bothered at all." He pointed out, if it weren't for the background music of his game, you probably would have heard his fast heartbeat.

"Because it's more bearable now that I have my Lord of Shadows with me."

He didn't respond to you, so you look up to see him a blushing mess.

"You're not joking... are you? Out of all of my brothers, you're not just doing this for fan service, right?" He asked for reassurance.

"Now who was the one that followed me here? For someone that calls me normie and avoids me, you're suddenly here."

"T-that's..." he stuttered, looking away from you as if he was desperate to look for an answer on your walls.

You laughed before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"It's time to go home, Levi."

Satan

"Hey Satan..." you called out to the blonde demon, your head resting on his lap as he plays with your hair.

"Hm?"

"Do you... think I could call the house of lamentation my home?" You asked, staring into his emerald eyes.

He gazes down at you before smiling. "Of course. It was, and always will be your home."

You turned slightly to inch closer to his warmth, catching him off-guard.

"Then what if I asked for you to take me back?"

"That will be arranged. You don't have to deal with these mortals, I have a special gift waiting at their doorstep." He responded, leaning down to kiss the side of your head.

"So no one really does get pass the avatar of wrath." You joked.

He chuckled as he let you sit up.

He held your hand for comfort before giving every part of your face a kiss.

He wasn't the type of person to often show love in this manner.

But it seemed as if you needed it at a time like this.

Placing one last kiss at your neck, he nuzzles his head further in it.

You could feel him smile on your neck, you stroke his hair as his other arm has wrapped itself around you.

"Shall we go home?"

Asmodeus

As he was combing your hair, he rants about the treatment you've been receiving.

"Why do you let them do that darling? They don't deserve to treat you like trash. It's not as if they're any better."

He frowns in distress, "some nerve they have."

"There's no point in fighting for something you think you don't deserve." You dismiss it with a sigh.

He raises an eyebrow and looks at you through the mirror in disapproval.

"That won't do, you're only giving them more of a reason to stomp on you. You're supposed to be treated with respect." He reasons.

You smile at him and he stops for a moment.

"You're just gonna let them?"

"Remember when you kept asking me to come back to Devildom with you?" You tried changing the subject.

He furrows his eyebrows before placing the comb down and putting a hand on the side of his waist.

"If you're considering to come back, at least let me give them a goodbye gift before we leave. I'm not taking no for an answer."

You smile and shook your head.

"There's no stopping you when you're like this... but don't overdo it, you don't like getting your hands dirty, right?"

He giggles and kisses your cheek. "Oh darling, i'm a demon. I'm bound to be harsh no matter how I dislike it."

Beelzebub

Both of you were silent for a moment.

He opened a packet of biscuits and fed you a piece before eating the rest.

"Now I get why you hated it here." He started before you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Right." You responded.

The 6th-born stared at you with eyes of sympathy.

"Don't look at me like that, Beel. I don't like being pitied." You pointed out with a frown.

"I know, i'm sorry. I couldn't help it." He said.

"Do you want to eat something?" He suggested as a way to comfort you.

You gave it a little thought before smiling longingly.

You then answer him, "A homemade meal back in Devildom sounds nice..."

His eyes lit up from the mention of a meal before he stood up.

"Then let's do just that."

Belphegor

He comforts you with a deep frown before letting out a bitter laugh.

Turning his gaze away from you, he clutches onto his cow pillow.

"Humans... are as sinful as they always were." He muttered as he stood up.

Tapping your shoulder, you look up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Let's go."

You asked him with a hoarse voice, "to where..?"

He stares at you for a moment before patting your head gently.

"Back home with us. Just like how you should've been."

He pauses for a moment before cupping your chin.

"But you don't have to come back with me if you don't like it. It's your choice." He assured with a small smile.

[theodorecanaryhood]

Do things right

Happy new year everyone! Hoping 2022 is a better year for us all - time really does get away from us as another year has ended!

Here’s a little fic for you all to start the year off

The Batbros (Dick, Jay and Tim) x male! Batbro! Reader

‘Are you smoking?’ Dick asked as he walked out into the garden of Wayne Manor, looking at your figure.

‘No point hiding it now, you caught me’ you said as you took a drag of the cigarette, Dick looked unimpressed as you blew the smoke out, flicking the butt as Jason and Tim came outside too.

‘Y/n what the…?’ Jason said almost yelling, Tim just shook his head with a small side smile.

‘Wondered how long it would take everyone to find out’ Tim muttered, everyone shot him a look.

‘Timmy you knew?’ Dick asked, Tim just nodded.

‘Yeah, I’ve known a while but I was swore to secrecy’

You took another drag as you doubted the cigarette and threw the contents onto the lawn.

‘How long has this been going on?’ Jason asked, looking down at you.

‘A while’ you deadpanned, your two older brothers didn’t know what to respond with.

Jason is a social smoker and can’t tell you off for doing it, Dick knows that you’re old enough to make your own decisions and responsible enough to know right and wrong.

You looked at your younger brother Tim as he smiled softly at you, you stood as the glares got too much.

‘A couple of years’ you finished, Jason and Dick looking shocked.

‘A couple of years? Does Bruce know? Alfred?’ Dick followed up with.

‘Bruce has a feeling but has never said anything, Alfred knows everything’ you chuckled at the last statement. It’s true, Bruce may be the words greatest Detective. But Alfred is all knowing.

‘You ever thought about stopping?’ Dick asked you, calming down a little.

‘I guess’ you shrugged

‘Take it from me little man, it’s hard to stop once you start’ Jason spoke from experience, finding it hard himself as he still struggles.

Dick and Tim walks into the Manor as Alfred called out to them, Jason stayed standing in front of you.

‘You got anymore smokes?’ Jason asked you, you laughed hard. So hard you nearly wheezed.

‘Yeah’ you said as you pulled two out the packet, one for yourself and one for him.

You both stood as you dragged on your cigarettes, taking in the sounds of the birds in the trees. The sound of the wind brushing through the flowers.

‘I forgot how much I love this’ Jason said to break the silence, you smiled.

‘I started not long after Bruce adopted me, you were dead and Dick was away in Bludhaven. I felt alone, my mind wandered so I walked into a 7-11 with a fake ID’ you confessed.

‘You were 15’ Jason smiled, you shrugged as you took on a drag.

‘You’ve been doing it in secret this whole time?’ You nodded, Jason just looked guilty.

‘You should’ve talked to someone, you were alone and should’ve asked for help’ he said, using his big brother voice with you. A voice full of love for you.

For some reason, you always seemed closer with Jason. Maybe it was because you both had a similar childhood, or maybe it was due to you both being closer in age, or maybe just because he was easier to be around.

‘Bruce was caught up, Alfred was always helping with everything, Dick wasn’t here and Tim was a kid’

‘I’m sorry’ Jason put his arm around your shoulders, you smiled.

‘It’s cool, New Years is coming so I guess my resolution will be so quit smoking. Maybe do things right next year’ you said with a hint of sadness on your face.

‘Little bro, you will never be alone in this world, even if it’s a hard day or week. Know that I will always be here’ Jason spoke deeply to you, you choked up a little at his words.

‘Thanks Jay’ you said as you put your cigarette out and stood with him while he finished his.

Dick stood in the doorway, hearing most of the conversation and was listening to every bit of your story. He vowed to himself internally that he would also make more time for you.

Never wanting you to be alone.