#micheal soft windows

[crazyboy3million]

Am I the first person to notice this lol

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part one

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 1.5k (1552)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part two!

You put on your jacket, take your shoes and carefully put them on, putting on the shiny black high heels again. Lazily you turn towards the boy, who is walking around the room putting back on the shirt that fell to the floor last night. You look out the large wall window: February, with its freezing cold, has brought a lot of snow to your Milan this year; in years and years here, as a now inhabitant, you have rarely seen snow. Evidently your breakup must have provoked such a reaction that even the impossible could happen

You return to reality, getting out of bed while giving yourself a quick tidy up in front of the mirror. The reflection is that of someone you don't recognize: your usually alive face is now dead due to the small but noticeable dark circles under your eyes, the hair that you usually leave loose is gathered in a high bun that only makes you fall a few lock in front of face, pale neck now has a hickey clearly visible on the right side. You've changed in so few hours that you struggle to recognize the world famous model that you are

But you're not angry with yourself. Usually you would hate to see yourself in these situations, but for now you allow yourself to be like this. They have been difficult days, especially the last few. For once in your career, you can allow yourself to look like absolute crap and don't feel guilty

"Are you ready? We can go?" the boy says, his hand holding your suitcase. You nod, grabbing your bag from the bed and keeping your gaze down as much as possible as you leave the room

The journey between the room and the hotel hall is quite quick: you arrive at the reception, where Kaiser quickly thanks an employee before exiting the hotel. You look down, not daring to look up to even say hello to the person who has served you for the past week. It's very rude and you wouldn't usually do it, but you're not in the moment to worry to much about BonTon. You sigh, clutching the warm material of the jacket

The cold wind hits your face, causing you to let out a soft "mh!" due to the sudden feeling of cold. In the distance you can already hear the voice of some journalist, perched under the hotel for who knows how long, while the first shots coming from the cameras are heard. Kaiser sighs as do you, trying to hide as much as possible behind his back. You tell yourself you have to mentally thank him later, but the only thing you can do at the moment is just hide

Hide. Hide from cameras, from journalists, from all your friends or relatives. Hide, because that's all you've done for the last week. Hide, because facing the weight of the situation is too much even for a strong girl like you

Hide yes, but not from Micheal, not him

With this view, you can see Kaiser's dangling hand, the one that isn't holding your suitcase. The red fingertips due to the cold stand out on his pale skin, making the redness look like many small burns. A shiver from the cold makes you purse your lips, but this gesture is also a way to stop you from screaming. You feel humiliated, but that's okay. It was all planned and you knew full well what the consequences would be

And here again is the feeling of falling into the void. Just you falling and falling and falling. You fall into the barrel of insults you received from your ex in the last years of the relationship

No one is here to help you, to hold your hand and tell you that you won't fall to the bottom. Nobody

And so, Kaiser's hand looks so inviting. You do it almost unconsciously, but you grab his hand, squeezing like you've never done in all these years of knowing each other. You would expected even a second of his surprise, but the hold is immediately returned. Maybe someone is actually telling you that you won't fall to the bottom

You arrive at the taxi still hand in hand. The taxi driver comes out and takes your suitcase, placing it in the luggage while he exchanges a few words with Kaiser. You feel nothing, the only thing that keeps you anchored to reality, and doesn't make you get lost in your thoughts, is his hand pressed against yours in a reassuring way

“You need to get in” Kaiser says, and you look up a little only to nod again as you let him open the car door for you. You settle into the back seats, while your hands come away. You feel discomfort in the detachment, but this is not the time to say it because it would be weird

You look at each other. You look at him. He looks at you. In the silence, the memories of the previous night seem to be too loud for someone like you who has always shared everything

"Be careful. Text me when you're home, or for anything anyway" he says with tight lips, placing his hand on the car door. You're still silent

You don't want him to return to Germany, you don't want the closeness that has united you in the last few hours to be broken due to a plane flight. You want to beg him to stay, to get in the car with you, to simply hold your hand one more time. But you know you can't, because it's your life that's falling apart, not his

“Thank you Mihya” you just say, and you hear the car door close before you even finish the sentence. You wonder if he heard you, but the new noise becomes that of the taxi driving towards your house. You sigh, resting your head against the window while you think

Your body still burns under the touch of his hands, the way he managed to love you in just one night and your ex couldn't in 3 years of relationship. You think back to the kisses, the caresses, the way your body finally seemed alive

You just think again to the way Michael managed to make you feel loved when you deserved anything but love. You had finally broken up with Gabriel just a few hours earlier when you found yourself under Kaiser, sweaty but happy

Did you feel like a whore for having sex so soon after the breakup? Yes, terribly. But you would have handled this other kind of shame at another time, not now and so unstable

Gabriel had been everything you could say about a toxic boyfriend: he had cheated on you with more than a few women, he had forced you to walk in fashion shows in clothes that you found uncomfortable, he simply made you a stupid and useless puppet. You could have run away sooner, but what would you have done with your career? The thing you also hated was your success, which was thanks to him. He was and still is the CEO of the modeling agency you worked for

But one weeks ago the impossible had happened, the straw that broke the camel's back: you had found Gabriel selling photos of you online. Not strange photos, but photos of your everyday life that simply made you eliminate the last crumb of trust you had in him. And so, after a violent argument that lasted hours, you took refuge in a hotel in Milan very far from the area where you lived. You had fired yourself from his agency and the world was experiencing your scandal with some interest. Those few times you had turned on the phone you had only read articles that talked about you, about how you were the one who cheated on Gabriel, about how you were actually running away to hide a pregnancy with another man. Obviously he had spoken before you, telling a version exclusively against you

The taxi stops due to traffic in front of the Duomo, making you lower your gaze even more so as not to be noticed by passers outside the car

You've known Kaiser for about ten years now. When your brother had been hired as coach of Bastard Munchen, you and your family had moved with him to Berlin. You were 16 when you first met Micheal, as he yelled at you to get out of the men's changing rooms that you had naively mistaken for bathrooms. Micheal was a chip, a prodigy among many mediocre ones. It was undoubtedly your brother's favorite

By often visiting the Bastard Munchen facility to be with your brother, you had learned to know the boy who was so stubborn and wanted to aim for the impossible. It hadn't been easy, but over time you became sort of friends. You talked during training breaks, and the first insults towards each other had gradually turned into simple chats. When your brother was moved as a coach for a team in Hamburg, your family and you moved with him again to be closer. You were 19 years old when you hugged Kaiser for the first time, you were about to catch the plane and he, followed by Ness, showed up to greet his former coach but above all you. You look back on that moment as the moment you realized he was your best friend

During your stay in Hamburg, you often went to Berlin to watch his matches and he often came to Hamburg simply to be with you. Even though you were far away, you remained in touch. When your brother was hired as a coach for a sports club in Denmark two years later, you didn't follow him. At 21 you said goodbye to your family and returned to Berlin, living with Kaiser for years, the years that you currently consider the happiest of your life: he trained for his matches and you tried your luck by getting hired in some fashion agency

That's how you met Gabriel. You had received an audition for his agency, one of the most important in the world, and you had passed it with great amazement. You were immediately placed in the categories of the most capable and beautiful models and, consequently, you ended up in Gabriel's good graces. In less than a year you had found yourself dating the CEO of your agency and with a shared house in Milan, in Italy

Even though you no longer lived at home together, the relationship between you and Kaiser had never changed. The only time you had argued was because of your transfer, but it was resolved quite quickly. Your parents knew nothing about what you were experiencing with Gabriel, the only one who knew everything was Micheal, who had felt every tear you shed for the man he swore to kill. He remained your best friend. The first to know about the breakup was him, who as soon as he found out, he took the first plane to come to you. He had consoled you, hugged you, made you feel loved in a way you couldn't describe after years of complete nothingness. And so, the caresses had made you so lost that you found yourself under him while you begged him

You didn't know if sex had ruined your friendship. Maybe yes, probably. You didn't even know why Kaiser had continued to kiss you, continuing the sexual intercourse, but you didn't want to explain it to yourself at the moment. The kisses you had given each other, in your eyes, seemed real; not given in the heat of the moment, but given out of love, out of need, out of the feeling of wanting one's lips on top of the other's. This was what you couldn't explain but what you needed an answer

Your phone vibrates, two chats send messages at the same time. You look at the screen

mihya ♡

— did you get home? — 11:07

— I'm at the airport — 11:07

— Whatever you do, you know where to look for me. I care about you, don't be stupid and look for me when you need me — 11:09

gabriel

— We could have talked normally, but no, this time too you decided you wanted to create drama — 11:07

— You still have time to give me the keys to the house. I don't even want to know when you had time to change the lock but that's my house too. Consider yourself lucky that I have another house, otherwise you would have found me at our home — 11:09

— You created a scandal but this time too your Gabriel will solve everything like always, don't worry mio amore. Give yourself a few more days off — 11:12

[unconventialsailormoon]

The Way You See Me

Pairing: Micheal B. Jordan x Reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, long read

Summary: She’s burned out and worn thin. He offers comfort, not questions. A quiet night turns into something deeper, warm, slow, and genuine.

The rain drummed steadily against the city windows, a soft, steady rhythm that filled Michael’s modest apartment with a kind of gentle isolation. Outside, the streets shimmered under streetlights, puddles reflecting the scattered neon glow. Inside, the faint scent of sandalwood from a candle mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air, untouched for hours.

Michael sat slouched on his worn leather couch, fingers absently tapping the rim of a glass of water, eyes glazed but thoughtful. The day had been long, meetings that ran late, phone calls with agents, lines memorized and re-memorized, and a workout that was supposed to clear his mind but left him only more restless.

His phone vibrated softly on the table. He picked it up and saw your name flashing on the screen.

“Hey. Can I come over? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His chest tightened slightly, a familiar ache he’d felt more times than he wanted to admit. Without hesitation, he texted back

“Come on. Door’s open.”

⸻

By the time you arrived, the rain had thickened into a steady drizzle, slicking the city streets and making the air cool and sharp. You stood at Michael’s door, jacket damp, hair tousled from the wind. When he opened it, the fatigue on both your faces was immediate and mutual.

Michael took your coat, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary. “You look exhausted,” he said quietly, stepping aside to let you in.

You shrugged out of your wet layers, the chill from outside clinging stubbornly to your skin. “It’s been one of those days,” you admitted.

He nodded, leading you into the living room where the lamp cast a warm glow over the muted colors of the room. The familiar clutter, books, records, a few framed photos, felt grounding in a way only home could.

“Sit,” Michael said, motioning toward the couch.

You sank into the cushions, and he sat beside you, close enough that the heat from his body was immediate, comforting. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Michael reached out, his fingers brushing your hand. “Talk to me,” he said softly.

You hesitated, then exhaled the tension you’d been holding. “Work’s been a mess. I feel like I’m spinning my wheels and falling behind.”

Michael’s hand settled over yours, warm and steady. “I get it. Sometimes it feels like you’re running just to stay in the same place.”

Your gaze met his. There was a softness there, a rare kind of vulnerability that made your chest ache. “How do you deal with it? When you’re just… tired?”

Michael’s eyes flickered with honesty. “I remind myself it’s okay to slow down. To rest. It’s not failure… it’s survival.”

The words landed like a balm on your frayed nerves.

⸻

You didn’t realize how close the two of you were until the quiet got louder. The kind of silence that pulls your pulse into your ears and reminds you how long it’s been since you let yourself feel anything besides tired.

Michael was still beside you on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his body slightly angled toward yours like he couldn’t help it. The low light cast warm shadows over the sharp line of his jaw, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady weight of his attention.

“C’mere,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a coil of hair behind your ear. “You been carrying too much.”

You didn’t hesitate. You shifted toward him, legs tucked beneath you as he pulled you into his lap. The move was smooth, practiced, even, but there was nothing casual about it. Not the way your body settled against his. Not the way his hands slid up the backs of your thighs, slow and sure, anchoring you in place like you belonged there.

His voice dropped low as your knees bracketed his hips. “You feel good right here. Real good.”

Your hands moved instinctively, one resting on the nape of his neck, the other tracing his collarbone beneath the collar of his faded black tee. His skin was warm and familiar, and your fingers curled into the fabric just to stay grounded.

“You always know how to calm me down,” you murmured. “Like you see through all of it.”

“I do see you,” Michael replied, his thumb brushing along the curve of your hip. “Even when you try to hide behind that smart mouth and that bossed-up attitude. I see all of it. And I still want you.”

Your breath caught. It was the way he said it, steady, without hesitation, like he’d been holding it in too long.

He leaned forward, lips brushing your jaw, then your cheek, then finally.. finally, he found your mouth.

The kiss was slow. Heavy. Intentional.

No rushing. No teasing. Just the kind of kiss that anchored you in the moment and made the world fall away. His lips molded to yours like they were made for this, for you, and when his hand gripped your thigh, pulling you in tighter, your body answered like it already knew the rhythm.

When you finally pulled away, it was only because you needed air. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, noses brushing, breath mingling.

“I should go shower,” you whispered, half a joke, half a nervous attempt to keep from melting completely into him.

Michael’s lips curved into a slow smirk. “I was just thinkin’ the same thing.”

You gave him a look.

“Not like that-” he chuckled, eyes bright but sincere. “Unless you want it to be.”

Your body warmed under his gaze.

“Come on,” he said. “Let me take care of you tonight. No pressure. Just you, me, and peace.”

⸻

The steam curled around the both of you as water cascaded down, hot and soothing. You let it run over your shoulders while Michael stood behind you, his hands gentle as they moved across your skin with soap-slick care.

He didn’t rush.

He massaged the knots in your shoulders. He worked conditioner through your hair. He kissed the nape of your neck like it was sacred.

And when you leaned back into him, your body slippery and bare against his, he groaned low, deep in his chest, like the sound had been waiting to escape all night.

“I swear, every time you’re close like this, I forget everything else,” he murmured, lips pressed against your shoulder.

You turned to face him, water beading down both of your bodies, your palms splaying across the muscle of his chest. His eyes never left yours.

“I don’t want to think tonight,” you whispered. “I just want to feel.”

Michael’s hands moved to your waist, gripping just tight enough to let you know he heard you. Understood you. Wanted you.

“I got you, baby,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

[more-sonorous]

asking you to stop and wait and stay

some javey angst for you on this fine friday!

.....

There were many nights when Jack felt like his family’s home was too big. 

It was a problem he’d never dreamed he’d encounter as a boy. Not when he lived in a cruddy matchbox apartment with his parents, not when he was crammed into one shitty lodging house with twenty other boys, and not in the brief few months he spent working at the shipyards, learning to weld steel with unforgiving sun beating down on his skin. His life was rough cotton, sleeping in beds too small with too little room. 

Katherine’s world was strange and empty and new, and Jack was finding that he almost preferred the uncomfortable comfort of bodies pressed against him out of necessity. Not he and Kath’s too-large bed, not the too-long hallways or the too-far distance between their too-big bedroom and his son’s, which seemed miles away when the boy was having a nightmare, cries splitting the too-quiet night. The household staff moved about like mice and the entire massive country estate seemed to drown in silence every night. It was different. No snoring newsboys, no gentle humming from his mam��, nothing but Katherine’s soft breathing and the occasional groaning of wood. 

They’d been living here for five years and Jack still hadn’t quite grown used to it– the decadence of it all, the looming quiet, the heavy weight of responsibility. Maybe the halls were empty in an attempt to encourage them to fill it with family. That’s what the Kellys were doing, after all– they  had their first darling son Micheal and Kath was with child (they’d found that out recently and Jack was beyond elated), and he was positive there were more children to come. Happy about it, too. He’d always wanted a family.

They were young, though. Micheal was almost five and their little family was as small as he was, with his little hands and feet and his precious youth. Jack’s boy. When he slept well, the quiet never went away. 

Jack found himself unable to rest when he felt truly suffocated by the empty air. He’d travel through endless hallways and wander into the sunroom he’d claimed as his art studio, sit and bask in the moonlight that streamed in from the massive paneled windows. Paint a thing or two. Kath and Micheal, Davey at his precious piano, Race with a cigar, Charlie sitting in the penthouse. It was one of those restless nights, with rain gently pattering around the window, when the Kelly family’s stuffy butler poked his head into the studio and murmured something or other about Jack having a visitor.

He thought disdainfully about unnecessarily long hallways as he made his way to the front of the house, following the flickering candle of the man ahead of him, dressed in nightgown and cap. Jack was still in his clothes from the day– he hadn’t even bothered sleeping. In one of his moods.

Guilt for joining the ‘upper echelon’ as Davey so furiously called it during his rants, maybe. Jack never stopped feeling guilt about it. The money, the clothes, the house. 

Think of the man and he shall appear, apparently, because behind the door stood a rain-soaked Davey Jacobs. Wet curls clung to his forehead and his green eyes were bright and wild as he stared at Jack, flushed and breathless with his chest heaving beneath his soaked clothes. Jack realized, with slightly muted horror, that his best friend rode here on horseback all the way from the city in the middle of a rainstorm. He could see the miserable pony pawing at the mud in the lawn, somewhere in the distance as thunder rumbled. 

“Dave. Jesus. Jesus, Davey, you gotta get inside–”

“No, no. No. Not necessary. I just– I’ve got to head straight back home as soon as possible, really, but I had to talk to you, Jackie. Just had to.” He breathed, running a freckled hand through that curly hair of his. It was black with rainwater, and Jack realized that at some point his butler had disappeared into the night. “We’ll talk on the porch?”

He felt his own lips ticking down into a frown. This was very un-Davey like behavior. Davey never did impulsive things. Something was wrong. “Sure.”

The ornately carved door clicked shut behind Jack, and they stood alone in the lamplight of the porch. A storm sang around them, and dim moonlight saved the rain-soaked lawn from the depths of the shadows. Davey’s face was half-blue and half-orange, a strange mix of lighting that Jack was almost certainly going to paint later. Though he couldn’t quite focus on thoughts of paint and color when his friend’s face was taut with worry. 

“Jackie.”

“Everythin’ okay?” Jack asked carefully, feeling tension begin to coil up in his spine. 

He received a terse nod in response, and David buried his probably-freezing hands in his pockets. “Yes Of course. I’m… I’m perfectly alright.”

“Good. That… uh… that’s great.”

Davey nodded, awkward and stilting just like he’d been recently. For some reason, the man had been acting strange. Long silences, bouts of intense staring, a lingering melancholy sadness that seemed to bubble up when nobody was speaking– Jack wanted to understand. Wanted to shake Dave up a bit– figure out what was going on in his curly head.

With a little bit of horror rising in his chest, Jack noted that Davey’s wide green eyes were growing glossy with tears. 

“In short, I’m moving to France. Paris, specifically.”

Jack blinked. Mulled the words over in his head. Considered the actual possibility of Dave Jacobs moving to Paris. Felt his own chest shaking with a laugh as his eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, alright. Good joke, Dave.”

“No. I– I really am. Next week.” Earnestly, his voice rose in pitch. Jack almost frantically scanned his best friend’s face for any sign of lying but he found none– he’d known this man for six long years, and Davey was an awful liar. He was decidedly not lying about this Paris thing, and Jack was so baffled that he could scarcely form a logical thought. Davey drove his point forward with more rambling, elegant fingers fidgeting with the hem of his dripping coat, which was still dripping onto Jack’s porch. “I didn’t— I haven’t told you because I kept thinking I’d change my mind. I kept thinking it was too impulsive or too unlike me, and that I’d back out at the last second, but now I’m really seeing the deadline and I know I have to go. I know it’s what I need.”

“What you– what you need?”

Jack stared in disbelief, sort of feeling like the floor of the porch had dropped out beneath him. He felt like he was falling, like the air had been knocked from his chest, like he’d received a particularly nasty kick from his toddler. Davey was leaving. Davey was moving to another continent. 

He forced himself to breathe. Calm down. Katherine would be telling him to count each breath, make his way to ten– he wasn’t patient enough for that. “How long? A month?”

“Well– no. It lasts until I… um… learn everything. Or until my mentor thinks I’ve learned everything which– well, that… uh– that could be years, Jackie, I’ll be honest.” He looked away, rife with guilt from face to feet.

And Jack wanted to explode. Years. Years of Davey being fucking unreachable, years without his best friend and closest confidant by his side? Jack couldn’t do that. Davey was his person. Davey was who he went to when Kath wasn’t around. Davey was the first person he’d invite over for a casual drink or a night in. He ranted about his problems to this man. Told him absolutely everything. How was he supposed to function for years without Davey? And how could Davey choose to leave him?

He’d stayed for Davey all of those years ago when the call to Santa Fe had been so strong it nearly killed him. Kath firstly, of course, but Davey was amongst the long list of reasons. Davey was supposed to ignore this Paris call. He was supposed to stay in New York with Jack. They were happy. They had good lives. 

“How could you– I don’t understand how you could need to be so far away from everyone you love, Dave? You don’t need that!” 

Davey winced, looking smaller than Jack had seen him in years. He almost looked seventeen again, which thrust Jack back into memories of a much simpler time. This man did not look like a twenty-three year old, confident maestro that played piano in Irving Hall and chatted pleasantly with all of New York City’s wealthy folk whilst talking shit about them right behind their backs. This didn’t look like Jack’s best friend. He wasn’t sweet and funny Uncle Day. This was David. Jack was looking at David and he scarcely knew him, because Davey would never up and leave him like this.

“Jackie, you don’t– you don’t get it.” He seemed to plead, lurching forward like a wooden toy sprung into action. Rigid and frantic. “I got accepted for an apprenticeship in Paris. I’m going to study under some of my favorite composers, Jack, I’m learning from Debussy himself. I know– I know it’s going to be difficult to be away from home, but I need to leave–”

He saw red and felt his hands curling into fists as unrestrained anger coursed through him. “You’re abandoning everybody that cares about you, Davey!”

“I’m not abandoning you or anybody, Jack, I still– I’m going to be a part of your life! I’ll write you letters every week and I’ll come back as soon as I can. And I’m not just leaving for the sake of leaving, I– I have my reasons and that– that’s actually why I’m here. I needed to talk to you alone. I need to tell you something. I can’t leave without telling you.”

“Telling me what?” Jack scoffed bitterly, still stuck between unbridled fury and disbelief. 

“I–” Rigidly, he met Jack’s eyes. Davey looked almost like a frightened fawn, frozen like a statue with droplets of water slipping down the sides of his face from his damp hair. “You have to promise me that you won’t let this ruin our friendship.”

“Like movin’ to another country ain’t gonna ruin our friendship anyways?” He spat, almost bitterly, though there was a thick undercurrent of sadness beginning to roar beneath his mighty anger. Davey was right in front of him and Jack was already missing him like a lost limb. 

His friend’s lips pressed into a thin line. Jack could see him biting back a sarcastic retort and almost wished he’d let it out, but Davey seemed seconds away from tears and miles away from considering anger at Jack. “It won’t. But that’s beside the point. I just– I need you to tell me that what I’m about to say won’t change the way you see me in your mind.”

“What the hell, Dave?” growing fed up with the cryptic bullshit, Jack groaned and pushed a hand through his hair. Dave just blinked at him and Jack clamped his jaw shut tightly. “Okay, Davey, I promise.”

“Good.”

The other man sucked in a breath, chest swelling with it. His clothes– every layer from overcoat to waistcoat, were clinging to him. He was soaked through to the bone and his curly hair was only just stopping it’s dripping. Jack could see the nerves in the way his fingers were fidgeting nonstop, feet rocking forward onto tiptoe and back onto heel repeatedly. Whatever this was, it was tearing him up. It had led him to ride into the countryside through a thunderstorm. It was making him speechless, green eyes staring up at the flickering lamp to the right of the ornate door. He took another deep breath. A third one after that. Lashes fluttered. Jack was beginning to grow incredibly anxious– what the hell was his problem?

Then, Davey turned to face Jack and met his eyes with an almost searing intensity, a single tear slipping from his left eye as he opened his mouth. “I’m in love with you.”

Huh.

Jack considered, briefly, that he might’ve been joking, but after the events of the night, that was doubtful. Something about the way Davey was looking at him… he felt his own heart dropping to his feet, chest clenching tightly. “Davey…”

“Don’t– just– don’t say anything, Jackie, please.” He begged, lurching backwards. “Don’t. I– I’ve been feeling this way for so long, and it… it’s been making me miserable. Ruining my life. I see you every day and I know I can’t have you, but all I fucking feel is love love love and it’s driven me insane.”

He ran his hands through those wet curls and pressed his hands to his scalp, somehow still fighting tears. Davey cried often; it was remarkable how well he was holding himself together because Jack was closer to crying than he was. There was no way Davey was in love with him. He could scarcely believe it– until he began to actually think about it, examining the signs and realizing all of the little details he’d missed. 

Since they were seventeen, Davey had always had a particular soft spot for him, hadn’t he? Suddenly memories were flooding Jack’s mind. The private smiles Davey saved just for him, the way he looked at him with those owlish green eyes, the compositions he wrote just for Jack. The way he’d refused to be Jack’s best man and sequestered himself behind the piano all evening. The inexplicable tightness of his smile when he met Jack’s son for the first time. The awkward tension that never seemed to relax from his body when he found himself in Jack and Katherine’s home. The moments of sorrow when no one was looking, every single fucking time Jack caught him staring– oh, God. Davey had been feeling like this for years and Jack hadn’t noticed once.

His own throat was feeling tight with dismay as why why why ran through his mind.

He’d known about Davey’s homosexuality since they were eighteen or nineteen and Dave drunkenly confessed to kissing a boy. Jack had never cared about who he loved– Davey was his best friend and Jack knew plenty of other homosexuals. But Davey– Davey should’ve been in love with someone better.

Someone that could love him back, someone without a family of their own. 

Jesus. That explained Paris, too. Davey had been bottling this up for six years. Of course he was finally snapping and running away. Lined right up with the announcement of Kath’s second pregnancy. Oh, this was bad. Jack was driving him away. 

“Davey–” Desperate to comfort, he reached out his hand. Davey flinched away. “Dave, c’mon, I ain’t mad at’cha.”

“I– I’m glad about that but I just–” he turned to face the rainstorm and a bolt of lightning crashed across the sky, illuminating the picturesque lawn, bathed in darkness and soaked through and through. “I… I know you could never really love me back, but there was always part of me that hoped that maybe– it’s stupid. I’m looking at you now and all I see is pity.”

“I do love ya’.” Jack insisted, feeling his own voice warbling with unshed emotion. 

Davey’s bottom lip trembled and Jack felt like his heart was being shattered. He wanted to return Davey’s affections. To give him everything he’d ever wanted. To wipe the slow-rolling tears away. He couldn’t give him any of that. “Not like I want you to.”

And if that wasn’t a painful truth… Jack sucked in a breath. “Nah… but I still– I care so much–”

“I know you do, Jackie, that’s– that’s part of the problem.” He hiccuped a watery laugh and dragged his damp sleeves over his eyes, only making his face wetter. “Sometimes it feels like you’re st-stringing me along with all of your flirting and touching.”

“Oh, God. I never– shit, Dave, I really never meant for you to feel like that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jack was itching to do something. Hug him or just place a hand on his shoulder, Jack didn’t care. His fingers were burning with it.

Davey offered him a sad little smile and shook his head. “Not your fault. They’re my stupid feelings, anyways.”

“Not– not stupid. Y’can’t help it, man.” Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat as the air thickened with awkwardness. “I just– I wish you’d’ve told me sooner before ya’ decided to just run away from me.”

“I’m not running.” He insisted firmly, though Jack privately disagreed despite the force of his friend’s conviction. “I’m just putting a bit of distance between us for both of our sakes. I’ll write you letters and focus on my music and by the time I return, I won’t be in love with you at all and I’ll be everything you need me to be. Best friend, godfather, uncle– I’ll do it all perfectly and we won’t ever have problems again.”

Jack, once notorious for running without the notion of ever settling, was feeling pity. It hurt, sweltering with all of the other emotions within him. “That ain’t healthy, Dave. You oughta deal with it here.”

“I’ve tried dealing with it, Jackie. Six years. I’ve been in love with you for six years. That’s more than half a decade. It– it’s not fair for you to ask me to stay and wallow in it.”

Like always, he had a point. Unable to stand still a moment longer, Jack turned on his heel and paced the length of the porch. His mind was racing with incoherent thoughts, a jumble of panic and sadness and pity. If he’d have just known sooner, if someone would’ve told him, if Davey wasn’t going to Paris… and when he turned around, Davey was right there waiting, hands in his pockets. Jesus. Davey was in love with him and he was moving to another continent. 

“Am I… am I gonna see you again? ‘Fore you go.”

“Sure. I’ll have a little get together so we can all swap stories and have a drink before I set off.” He stared at his feet, at the black boots he so enjoyed to wear. Said they made pressing down on piano pedals easier. Fuck. Jack was going to miss his strange Davey-isms. “You and Kathy and the guys. My siblings.” 

He sounded hollow. Defeated. Jack felt sick. 

“We’ll make time.”

All he earned was a little smile. Davey’s eyes raked over him– hair to shoes– like he was committing the image of Jack to memory. Jack wondered if he was really ever going to come back from Paris, what with all of the raw hurt in those eyes, posture bent like he’d just been stabbed. What if he never came back? What if this was the last time he’d ever see Davey alone? “Well, guess I’d better–”

Without thinking, Jack lurched forward and tugged him into a tight embrace. Dave made a squeak of a soft sound, but he hugged him back after just a moment of hesitation. It was damp and cold and an awful hug– Jack’s cheek was frigid just from the contact with Davey’s shoulder– but he held tightly because this amazing, intelligent person was leaving his life and it was partially his fault. He’d been oblivious and he’d been a bad friend for not questioning the sadness he knew was there; for brushing it off as a part of Davey that wouldn’t go away. Even if he didn’t want to believe it, this was partially his fault. He really didn’t want Davey to go. He didn’t want to watch another loved one slip through his fingers, and he hugged the man like that might convince him to stay. Like maybe if he gripped Davey’s coat hard enough, he’d pull back and ask to go sit by the fire and warm up. They’d talk about Paris and Jack would talk and talk and talk until he’d convince Dave to just fall out of love with him and stay around, normal like things had been before.

But their normal obviously was never as good for Dave as it was for Jack, and that hurt too. It hurt when Davey sobbed quietly and it hurt because Jack was sobbing, too.

Davey was leaving. No question about it. No embrace could stop that.

And the embrace didn’t stop it. When Davey finally pulled away, minutes or hours later, he smiled a small, broken little smile. “Well. I’d best be off now.”

“Be safe.” Jack whispered, voice breaking.

And Davey nodded. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and made his way down the stairs, walking right into the unforgiving embrace of the storm. Climbed onto that horse and snapped the reins with vigor, disappearing into the night without leaving a trace behind. 

Gone. Probably never coming back, despite his promises. 

Jack retched. He threw up off the side of the porch and gripped the wood like a lifeline as the grief hit him in full force. Davey was leaving. Just like his parents had, just like everyone seemed to do eventually. Somehow Davey had gone and fallen in love with him, and Jack wanted to hate him for it. He wanted to throttle him for not choosing someone else. Wanted to throttle him for not saying something before Kath got pregnant, before the whirlwind of a wedding, before Pulitzer practically banished them to this stupid, too-big house in the too-empty countryside. 

Davey hadn’t even truly left yet. Hadn’t climbed onto a ship with his belongings stuffed into a suitcase. Still, Jack felt the loss. He figured he was going to feel it forever.

[dough09]

Valentines day 

(btw those who get flowers I recommend getting yourself invested in flower language, I probably spent most of my time on researching this lol) (also, I may be biased [is that surprising?] So Sae might get two scenarios sometime later.. we’ll see, if you want one for the other pls share your ideas and tell me about them!) Keep in mind: Valentine’s day is celebrated differently around the world. In this I made that quite obvious but it’s always written there.

Characters used: Sae Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Micheal Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Reo Mikage, Meguru Bachira

Enjoy~

Sae Itoshi:        

/small piece of info: he also gives gifts on Valentine’s day so it’s not entirely like the Japanese customs/

He was a busy man, and naturally the world was against you two spending time on this special occasion. He had another long training day and they didn't take no for an answer, not even if he made sure he was free today days before. 

By the time you heard the front door of your luxurious apartment open it was already 8pm. Everything you wanted to do went out in the trash.

There you were sitting on the barstool sipping on some warm tea on this chilly February night.

You were engrossed in your phone but weren't into it in particular. Your mind was everywhere except for the article you were reading.

Sae knew he f-ed up. Although he really couldn't do anything about it. It isn't in his hands when he is called in for training. He has the right to take a break but the sports industry just doesn't always work like that.

Not to mention, in the back of your mind, you always knew that you’d only come after work. Just because he loved you deeply it didn't mean he’d throw years of work out the window for love.

His arms tangled around your waist which made you startled. “Honestly, I already spoke to you a lot and you are reading such a stupid article?” “It's..not that stupid” 

“It is, how about next time you just ask me how it went?” The article was about Itoshi Sae’s newest match, all the tricky goals he made and also how he made the Spanish striker look even better. “I do, you always tell me you were outstanding as usual” you chuckled.

Even if you were a little salty at him, that wasn't an excuse enough to be mad at him. At least in your book.

“Happy Valentine's day mi vida.” He whispered into your ears and got your phone out of your grasp. 

“So far it's not so happy” but then he let go and gave you a small box. “Wait…” 

“Don't overthink it, I just want to make it up to you.. so I booked a flight to Paris for tomorrow and we can do whatever.” 

You were listening but his words seemed to fall into silence as you opened the box. It was a beautiful ring. A simple but pretty one, just as you like it. 

Suddenly the thought hit you like a truck. “Wait, this isn't an engagement right?!?” Your face flushed and seriously hoped it wasn't time for that yet.

“No” his voice let out a crack of a smile. “It's just a promise right, I found your fingers weirdly missing something nowadays.. So since we aren't in a position for marriage yet, I decided on this. You don't have to wear it all the time though. And the next time I give you a ring, it will be an engagement ring.” He pressed a passionate kiss onto your lips while intertwining hour fingers.

The jewel shone on your hand with a soft glow in the dark. “Now, please don't be disappointed.. I know how important today was for you” 

“It's fine mi amor” you giggle. “I don't care if you forget a birthday, an important day, or you are just busy, what matters is that you show your love for me in a way. We can celebrate Valentine’s day on the 15th too, who said it has to be on one precise day anyway?” 

He smirked and shook his head lightly. “I love you Y/N”

“And I love you, Sae” the words barely left your lips and he picked you up anc placed you on the counter kissing you with passion but also many apologies unsaid.

Your boyfriend was never good with words, but he didn't mind showing his true intentions in many ways others wouldn't even think of.

“Oh, I made chocolate..but I kind of ate them already..in misery” he couldn't help but let a coy smile escape. “It's the thought that counts, and you can make it again later.” He rolled his eyes.

Seishiro Nagi:

For you two mornings were already noon for most people. Sure you had a little less sun to look at but it wasn't like you could just stay up at night and play games together. 

As you awoke the sound of late snow hit your ears. It sounded like some serious snow storm in February. 

You leaned over your boyfriend and checked the time on your phone. 11:34am. That's still so early. Waking up this soon was pointless but it's not like you paid more attention to it. You furrowed your brows  due to the bright life emitted from your screen and saw that today was February 14th. That means only one thing.

Valentine’s day. As much as you enjoyed the quality time it was more or less a hassle. But also you made it your virtue to make homemade chocolates to Sei every 14th of February. Just for his sake.

Therefore you climbed out of the grasp of the tall figure and rushed to the kitchen after getting yourself into something cozier. 

Your sloth loved homemade chocolates. Technically he loved your chocolates. He said the creamy texture and the milky aftertaste were just like what he’d buy at the store just better. 

Sometimes you didn't understand much of his reasoning but regardless you went along with it. 

After an hour he woke up to the fresh smell of chocolate. He slowly walked to the kitchen and tilted his head in inquiry. “What are you doing?” “Happy Valentine's day love!” “Ah.. so that's the occasion, thank you.. you too” he yawned lazily.

The white haired man walked behind you and burrowed his face into your neck as he held onto you for support. His tired body weighing onto you. You giggled. “Sei~ your hair tickles!” You could help but laugh more as he kept nuzzling into you. 

“Wanna have a bite?” You smiled and raised a small heart shaped chocolate to his mouth. “Aah” he opened his mouth and lazily bit it. 

His usually tired face showed sparkling eyes and an expression that yearned for more. He never had much of a sweet tooth so when he first tasted your sweets he thought they’d be all sugary, but this was more suited to his tastes with a slight bitterness in it. 

He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. “Yummy” “Me or the chocolates” 

His lips twitched into a smirk and kissed you again turning you to face him finally. “Both” he said and connected your lips again. 

“Wanna play Valorant with me?” “I’m gonna die first aren't I?” You giggled but nodded anyway. The second you wrapped the sweets into a small bag and placed them in the fridge you went after him to boot your computer. 

Later it was time to play your favorite games, which were more on the chill side. Not only did you play animal crossing but also persuaded him to play Genshin Impact with you which he often refuses to. 

Not because he doesn't like it, it's more like because unless it's some farming for your favorite characters he wasn't really needed.

As the snow quieted down and the stars appeared in the night sky, the main part of your date just continued.

Nor you nor him has ever said this would be a date but don't you call a date a well spent quality time? Then you were doing the exact definition of a date. 

Sure anyone could start an argument over this but with your interests aligning so closely it wasn't a matter of uncertainty whether or not this would count as a date or not.

The rest of your days always went by the same way except that he did make sure to thank you for those pretty and tasty chocolates.

Michael Kaiser:     

/small piece of info: since he is german he also gives gifts on Valentine’s day so it’s not entirely like the Japanese customs/   

He was never into love, not to mention Valentine’s day. He also didn’t really understand why someone would love their partner more on a specific day instead of just showing it every day.

That was before he met you. He still thought you deserve to be loved every single second but he understood the value of such a special day. Well at least he kind of knew it’s important to you so he went along with it. 

He spent the entirety of last week thinking what he could do for you. His girl never asked for anything. As far as he knew you never even asked for much. What you did need he bought that anyway so he was in a pickle on what to do.

And there he was. Late with ideas. The awaited day came and he still hadn’t thought of anything. He really tried though. Suddenly he picked you up as you were making him chocolates. “Want to go somewhere?” You tilted your head a little. “The weather forecast said it’d rain soon.” 

“We can still go out, maybe just stay in the car?” You chuckled. “I know you’ve been stressed out because of today but come on, we can just stay at home watch a movie, chat, and I also tried out a new recipe for chocolates which means we can eat that.” “My nutritionist will murder me, but sure if that’s what you want” He mumbled and pulled you more into his embrace. 

“You can pick a movie” You shrug. “Any? Even horror?” He grinned. “Hey, I want to have a good time too.” ‘It’s not like you’d be focusing much on the screen Micha.’ 

People often say he’s as hard to read as understanding cave drawings but to you, Michael Kaiser’s unsaid words just glowed through his expressions. He could make a frowny face and you’d still be confident he was happy with something.

“Stop teasing.” You shook your head with a giggle. As soon as the chocolates were all done he got the first bite. “That’s so good Micha” A soft smile draped across his face. His loving gaze concentrated on ust the woman ahead. He wouldn’t admit, but he was falling deeper and deeper every second he spent with you.

A love he never experienced or saw just barged in on him. The locked iron door was kicked down without even a struggle. The secrets and hardships he never opened up about, all those deep cuts were exposed to you all of a sudden. He just found himself wanting to spend every existing minute with you. The love of his life. 

All those deep scars he tried burying oh so well just resurfaced. And you tried patching them up properly. As if an insecure little girl, who tried covering her pimples with layers upon layers of foundation but only making it worse. You were there and stopped his hands before grabbing the blender again.

There was something special about you. Something no woman could ever replace. Yes you had flaws, just like him. But to him that never meant less perfection. Only more things to work on.

Rin Itoshi:

/traditional Japanese styled valentine’s +reader unable to cook :)/ 

As he got home from his hour-long run the sudden aroma of burnt chocolate made its way to him. “I’m home-” His voice was full of concern but he still headed to the kitchen. “Welcome home Rin!!” You smiled. 

His gaze drifted to the counter. There was one batch of burnt chocolate in heart shapes and you were making another one now. “You don’t have to do this you know…” He inspected the burnt chocolates. Not only did they crumble at his touch but they also seemed genuinely uneatable. Not that he’d want to taste that. “I don’t want to hurt you but, I don’t think this is how they’re made.” 

You pouted and looked at him. “Hey I know I messed those up but this will be better!” You were stubborn. Once you set your mind to something you will go through with it regardless. He knew backing off wasn’t in the cards. “I’ll help you after I showered and changed.” 

“No need, I want to do this for you!” “Yeah, you either do it half-successfully and burn the kitchen down or I help you and they will be potentially digestible.”

“Stop being mean to me” you whined as he just walked out with a chuckle. After about 10 minutes he was back.

He wore a comfortable blue shirt with black sweatpants. His hair was all messy and his face had a smudge of toothpaste on it.

You giggled at his sight. “What?” He scoffed. “Lean down.” To your command he looked at you suspiciously but he obeyed. 

Doon the toothpaste was wiped down. You also made sure his hair is fine. “Have you even looked in the mirror?” “I did- but I was in a hurry” “aww you missed me that much?” “No, I was afraid you’d burn the kitchen down.” 

“See, you are mean again.” Regardless of his words he started helping you and making sure you two didn't leave the chocolate on the fire for long. 

The chocolates weren't only pretty this time but they were also so tasty. You filled some with jam that your grandma uses often. 

You were now sitting by the couch cuddling while some boring show was playing in front of you. That neither of you was interested in.

This is how a regular Valentine's day goes for Rin and you. Nothing much happening but what does, has lots of sentimental value. 

The sun slowly made it's way down the horizon as you two were still playing around by the window. 

You both needed nothing more. Just chocolates and the soft silence of your home.

Reo Mikage: 

/piece of info: he doesn’t really follow japanese customs/

The man knew your needs by heart. Not only would he make sure every February 14th is enjoyable for you but he would also make sure every time a new experience can be written into your diary that you always thought you kept well hidden from him. 

Reo did love you every day. He did show how much he treasured you each moment but he also knew that these special occasions have a sentimental value that he can't just ignore. So instead he tries making the most of it. Every single time.

He already had a hotel booked and you awoke in fresh bed sheets in a homey hotel. You slowly woke up and opened your eyes. Reo was lying next to you and he was just admiring you. “Why are you staring so much?” You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. You just woke up and you probably looked like a giant mess. “Because you’re pretty. So pretty.” The purple haired man smirked. 

You were doing your makeup when he finally arrived from downstairs to order your breakfast to be this luxurious one. Not like you ever asked for such. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my queen.” Reo leaned down and kissed your lips. 

“Mmm, cherry.” “I just put that on.” You pretended to pout but then out of nowhere he handed you a giant bouquet of flowers. “Flowers for the pretty woman. My pretty woman.”  Pink carnations rose up from all the little white flowers. It was filled with pinks and deep purples with also little white flowers here and there. Peonies decorated the bouquet to give it a gentle and majestic look. The latter being there for the soft transition.

Lilies swayed on the edges as you held the soft purple paper it was wrapped in. There was a note to be seen with small white petals painted on it.

‘To my queen who I have to thank for a lot. You lit my world up thousands of times when I was at my worst. Thank you for always reminding me you are here less than in an arm’s reach. I want to show my utmost love to you every second of every day. I’ll never leave you and you cannot either. I love you Beautiful.'

Tears swelled up into your eyes as you read his confession. And that wasn’t even a florist’s handwriting. It was his very own. 

Not only does this man spend so much time and money on you he also makes sure it doesn’t all come from his wealth. Not only do his presents have sentimental value but also it shows that he cares. He cares for you deeply.

“Reo~” You whined trying to hold your tears back. “I just did my mascara too” You whined as you tried drying off your tears. Not that right now that was the most important. You just didn’t know what to do or say to him. 

It was as if words and letters and voices couldn’t convey your true feelings. As if this moment can’t possibly be written. Something ethereal. But also, something more than ethereal. That was his kind of love.

Meguru Bachira:

To say the least your boyfriend had a personality. The moment he woke up in your arms he turned and woke you up with sloppy kisses. “Morning Sunshine”

Your eyelids opened just slightly only to flinch at the amount of light that came through the window. Looks like spring was coming very soon as even the sunrays decided to interrupt your sweet dreams. “Morning Meguru~” your slightly crooked morning voice barely made it out. 

“Happy Valentine's day!!” He squealed excitedly and rolled on top of you.

After finally calming him and going about your day at one point he said he had to meet up with Isagi so you were left in the house all alone. The morning jitters also sparkled onto you as you felt more energized than ever.

But Meguru had that aura around him a lot. No matter how little sleep you got or how exhausted you were because of a long week, your boyfriend would always be there to brighten your day.

After about 4 hours he finally came back. You were making chocolate. It was half ready when the door opened. “So I know today is usually your turn and I have to give white day presents BUUT hear me out.” He grinned and gave you a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Many flowers brightened in a bunch of different colors and aesthetics. You saw red tulips, red, orange and white lilies as well as hydrangeas blooming in deep pinks. Not only was it mesmerizing to look at but the smell filled the room in minutes. 

“Thank you baby! I am so happy you thought of me” you grinned and leaned in to hug him. 

You loved how he was the partner to always confide in, he tried his best to make everyone's day, so when it came to his loved ones he didn't shy away at all. 

You put the flowers in a beautiful vase which you got from his mom last year. It was painted with flower veins strangling all over it in every direction.

Later you both wrapped the chocolates as well as little snacks and went down to the nearby park for a picnic. It has been tradition that on Valentine's day the both of you go downstairs with home cooked things and have fun.

The weather was still chilly and that's what made it more fun. It was solely you two in a friendly loneliness. Having alone time with someone was the best and you both understood that feeling well without having to speak up.

As the cold breeze hit your face you leaned more and more into Meguru’s warmth which not only warmed your body up but also his.

The gentle but earnest type of love that was so hard to find. A childlike wonder that you never grew out of.

You already knew Meguru could go overboard and he didn't miss saying “Happy Valentine's day” in every waking moment you passed each other in the house. With loud cheers and the pure happiness emitting from his mouth.

[velvetpucks]

let me be there.

dr. micheal “robby” robinavitch x hawaiian!nurse reader

⸻

The ER was quieter than usual when Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch grabbed his bag and pulled on his jacket. The day’s chaos had finally ebbed into a lull, leaving him with a quiet exhaustion that settled heavily on his shoulders. He walked through the emergency room one last time, past the nurses’ station, the trauma bays, and the bustling halls filled with patients and colleagues, before heading toward the exit.

The cool night air greeted him like an old friend as he stepped outside, the city’s lights casting a faint glow against the darkened sky. Robby was tired—bone-deep tired—but it was a kind of tired that wasn’t entirely physical. It was the kind that accumulated over years of hard decisions, of lives saved and lost, and the unspoken weight that came with being the one who had to stay strong when others fell apart.

He pulled his coat tighter against his frame, the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance barely audible from the hospital’s parking lot. He’d always loved that sound, the rhythm of the ocean, a constant in the ever-changing chaos of life. But tonight, the waves seemed to mock him, each crash pulling him deeper into the same ache that had lived in him since that awful day—the day they lost their child.

Kawena, his wife, had been the only one who understood the depth of his grief. She had been there through it all, and in many ways, her grief mirrored his. She was strong, unshakable at work, but at home, she was fragile, wrapped in the same sorrow that clung to him like a second skin. It had been a year since their miscarriage, a year since they’d lost the child they had been so ready to welcome into the world. A year that had stretched into an eternity.

As Robby walked down the sidewalk, the thought of Kawena pulled him toward the dance studio. He hadn’t planned on stopping by, but something inside him tugged. The soft, haunting melody of Pua Kiele echoed in his mind, a song that Kawena had always played when she needed to soothe her soul, when the world was too much. He knew she often went to the studio to dance, to lose herself in the rhythm, to feel connected to something, anything.

The familiar studio lights shimmered in the distance, and as he drew closer, he paused. Through the windows, he saw her. Kawena. Her long, dark hair moved like water around her shoulders, and her graceful hands swept through the air, performing the hula in slow, deliberate movements. But it wasn’t the beauty of her dance that stopped him in his tracks. It was the tears on her face.

Kawena was crying.

Robby’s heart twisted in his chest. He had seen her grief before, had shared in it, but this… This was different. Her dance was always a way to heal, a way to remember their child and honor their brief, shattered dream. But tonight, there was something more—a deep, aching sorrow that Robby knew all too well.

Without a second thought, he pushed open the door to the studio, the soft chime of the bell signaling his entrance. Kawena didn’t stop dancing immediately, lost in the rhythm of her movement, her chest heaving with each breath, but when she saw him, she faltered. Her eyes, red from crying, met his, and the strength she had so carefully built around herself cracked open, revealing the pain she had been hiding.

“Kawena…” Robby’s voice was soft, but it carried the weight of everything unspoken between them. He crossed the room in two steps and gently took her hand, halting her movements. “I’m here.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her breath shaky as she finally lowered her gaze. Robby cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. The smell of jasmine lingered in the air from the flowers she often wore in her hair, a reminder of the love and strength she embodied.

“I’m sorry,” Kawena whispered, her voice breaking. “I just… I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop dancing tonight.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Robby murmured, pulling her into his arms. “I’m right here with you. Always.”

She clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the present, the world outside slipping away as they held each other. Time seemed to freeze in that moment, the only sounds the soft hum of the studio and the rhythm of their breathing.

Kawena pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his. “It’s the anniversary,” she said softly, the words barely above a whisper.

Robby nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know. I remember, too.”

Their child. The one they never got to meet. The one they had already begun to love before they even knew who they were. It had been a sudden loss—unexpected, devastating, and irreparable. The pain still felt fresh, even after a year. Some days, it felt as though it had only just happened.

Kawena sniffed, pulling away slightly to wipe her eyes. “I danced for him tonight,” she said, her voice steadying. “For our baby. For the one we never got to hold.”

Robby’s heart clenched. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. I see you, Kawena. I see you always.”

She offered him a sad smile, the kind that was full of love but tinged with sorrow. “It’s just… I don’t know how to heal, Robby. How do we heal from this? How do we move forward when it feels like we lost everything?”

Robby took her hands in his, the weight of their shared grief hanging between them. “We heal together. One day at a time. We carry them in our hearts, always. And we carry each other. That’s how we keep going.”

She nodded, her breath shaky as she leaned into him once more. “I miss him so much, Robby.”

“I do too,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I miss him every day. But we’re going to be okay. We’ll find our way through this together, just like we always do.”

Kawena pulled back to look at him, her eyes searching his face, looking for the truth she needed. “Promise me, Robby. Promise me we’ll always find our way back to each other, no matter what.”

“I promise,” he said, his voice steady. “We’ll always find our way back.”

And in that moment, with the sound of the ocean just beyond the windows and the soft notes of Wena beginning to play on the speakers in the studio, Robby knew that no matter how many tears they shed, no matter how many anniversaries of pain they had to endure, they would always have each other. The love they shared, their memories, their grief—it would guide them through the darkness.

Together, they would heal.

⸻

[voidcat]

michael kaiser x gn!reader the kaiser cat saga continues- just a shorter, sweet? drabble.. idk excuse any potential mistakes i cannt keep my eyes open lol.. still contemplating a name for the cat btw yeah

The afternoon painfully mundane and not leaving much to be done to pass time, you blink and open your eyes again, all the chores of the day already tossed to the side-- and find yourself lying on the couch with a softness underneath your palm.

The gestures come to you naturally by then, mind turned off and reflexes kicking in, like a kid riding a bycyle or driving a car, if you were so bold as to cross that heap, you could even give "breathing" as an example, but maybe for another time.

The rain softly hits against the windows, making for a nice sound to blend into the background. It is a serene day, and a much needed lazy afternoon after going around with your day and quickly reaching your limit. Head empty and brain turned off, all one must do is to simply kill time until the familiar ding of the oven reaches your ears.

One hand sprawled by the side, soft hair of your cat tingles between your fingers. You shift between soft pettings and slow massaging motions, occasionally applying a little pressure only to fall back into the rhythm of the soft pets.

Your other hand isn't as far from you, quite close in fact.

His head resting on your stomach, lies Micheal Kaiser on his side, with one hand lazying scrolling down his phone, waiting a little while on videos that might interest you for you to watch only to keep scrolling again.

Your hand atop his head, fingers digging into his locks and bluntly cut hair, your hand mimics the other somewhat, though the area of movements a little wider and the applied pressure a tad more.

Just as you squint your eyes at a particular video playing on the screen- and thus your movements coming to a halt- you feel something nibbling on your fingers. One glance to the side reveals your spoiled cat sending you dirty glares as you sigh and pay attention to petting him again.

A few minutes later however you feel vibrations first and hear a following grumbling. Before you can even check for yourself, you feel something warm wrapped around your head, pressing it down-- saying what he desires with anything but words, you just roll your eyes at Kaiser's antics and direct your attention to him.

This only results in more nibbling and a whine from your cat however.

Eyes darting between the both blonds, and your hands stilling for a second in the process- only for more nibbling and shuffling to arise within a blink of an eye, you do what any logical, normal, regular human would do in your place and let out a groan:

"Aaaaah! Enough, I can't keep doing this!"

Eyes squeezed shut, legs pulled closer to you as much Kaiser's body would allow you to physically and your body frigid, you aren't certain for how long you stay like that.

Small and soft nudges you feel that draw you out of your reclusion slowly. Something wet and feeling like sandpaper, your cat bumps you with his nose and licks at your hand. Above, you feel a shift in weight and soon the warmth of someone's breath against your skin, so close to your face if your senses perceive correctly.

You feel hands wrapped around your wrists, gently pulling your arms away and placing them on your sides.

Prying open your eyes a little timid, you find yourself face to face with blue eyes staring at you, looking unimpressed but still a hint of concern hidden behind the expression he wears.

Seeing you slowly return to yourself, Kaiser only shakes his head and you swear you can hear him mumble a "tch... look at you, such dramatics..."

Without a word, Kaiser draws closer, nose bumping against your skin, nudging your neck. His breathing slow and preceise, calculated, almost resembling a predator from one of those short documentaries you were watching the other night.

"If it's attention you wanted, you could've asked for it nicely." he whispers below your ear.

And you think, as his words regiser that, he misunderstood the whole situation utterly, and completely wrong.

Or not...

Maybe, this is just another thing he will twist and use to his advantage, maybe having to share your attention wasn't enough to satiate his growing needs, you conclude.

Just as that bulb lights up in your head, as the 'ding!' of the oven reaches your ears at the same time- a lovely coincidence you would like to appreciate, you realize your arms are still on both sides, pinned to the couch, his hands having never left their grip on your wrists.

"No talking back?" he says amused, lips brushing against your skin.

For all the warmth in his breath, your skin feels prickly and cold, hairs standing on end. Too many sensations against your flesh all at once, building up one by one and you feel dizzy, a silent ringing in your ears, every other sense turning off.

It is too much already and he has barely done a thing. You doubt whatever will follow next that you will be surviving it, surviving him. His fingers slowly drawing patterns down on your arms and his stupid smirk you can already feel on your neck, Kaiser's voice interrupts your thoughts running on no end.

Centimeters away from closing that agonizing gap, he hums against you: "Or is it... Ah!," he says as if recalling something he forgot long ago only now, "Cat got your tongue?"

You can imagine him patting himself on the back for the choice of words in his head, maybe even give you one of those grins were you able to see his face. Instead, your brain is brought quickly to be shortcircuiting once more when he finally closes that distance, leaving nothing left between the two of you, not even an atom separating your tender flesh from the sharp of his teeth- you hiss at the sudden contact, of the softness of his lips and the needy nibbling- chewing, on your skin. The following hours blur into a blank flash of light, senses overriden to a point of numbness by the time he is done.

[foolclownery]

FWB Micheal Kaiser....!!!!

FWB Micheal Kaiser hc post (or: kaiser's allergic to vulnerability and domesticity)

cw! fwb, kaisers issues, use of sex as a distraction, soft and tender (eww wtff), actually not that nsfw, gn reader

-----------

when you and kaiser start sleeping together you two agree that theres no strings attached.

So the first time you two sleep together he expects you to leave as soon as you're done. What he doesn't expect is for you to help yourself to his shower (his bodywash smells so nice) and to fall asleep in his bed after.

It's only one time though, he thinks, assuring himself that next time he'll ask you to leave.

So when a month passes and he lays with you in his arms, sleeping, watching your steady breathing with a conflicted expression, he has no one to blame but himself.

Watching you sparks a tightening feeling in his chest, like you're reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart in your palm.

You never wake up in Kaiser's arms, always finding him smoking at a window, or already gone for practice. He does always leave you with a breakfast bar and some tylenol for any sort of hangover you might have.

He's always stealing looks at you too, when you walk him through his own door giggling, or when you're watching a movie together. He finds that he can't see anyone else the same way.

And sometimes you get a late night "u up?" text from him, only when you arrive you two don't fuck. Instead you two lay in heavy silence.

His hands shake sometimes when he holds you, as if afraid of something you can't see. Maybe he's afraid that his wretched hands will pull any goodness from your still beating chest.

You try to assure him that you're not a saint either but Kaiser isn't one to listen to nonsense.

This counts even as you say rediculious things when he's balls deep inside you. Ridiculous things like "I'm yours" "only yours" "always yours". He knows such things can't be true, after all, you agreed, no strings attached.

But he can't deny that he's the one demanding "say you're mine" and looking at you with eyes that consume your whole being.

He won't look you in the eyes when you're done though

-----------

a/n woah look i did this instead of sleeping

sorry this is bad, its my first time doing smthng like this so uhh yeh, hope you enjoy it :D. im always always being normal abt kaiser i just know that hes soo bad abt intimacy and vulnerability. this man runs away from everything

[slashers-and-rats]

Could you make Michael Myers' reaction to entering a house during a hunt and see a mother and her two children sleeping hugging on the couch?

rat chat: micheal seems like the type that would have some general morals. that’s kinda what this fic in general is demonstrating.

micheal myers x fem!reader | sfw |

micheal felt the autumn leaves crunching underneath his boots. no matter how silently he crept through this backyard, the sound still managed to escape into the quiet of the night. he was lucky that the wind was blowing, hard and loud, as it covered up any of his footsteps.

he was careful as he slithered up to the back of this house. there wasn’t anything special about it, nothing that drew him in and made him sure this was the target. there was no rhyme or reason in what micheal did, not always. sometimes, when hunting, he just needed to make a choice based on nothing but his own instincts. there was nothing different about this home. the only thing he noticed was a few balls strewn about the backyard.

‘must have a pet to watch out for’, he thought to himself.

he pressed himself up to a window, peering into the dark of a random room. upon further inspection, it seemed to be a living room, since in the very middle there was a couch. on the couch, laying as if she were bait in a trap, there was a woman.

micheal didn’t see much of her, only her head laying back against the top of the seat. she was dead asleep, clear by the way her mouth hung open in silent snores. he took note of her position, lingering for a moment. she seemed peaceful. he almost felt as though he shouldn’t ruin this moment- maybe he could find another house, and satiate his needs that way. but, it was too late into the night, he had to commit. didn’t he?

he pried himself away from the pane, stepping back and going to a nearby door. he found the knob and tried a few times, finally feeling it creak open and swing out near him. this neighbourhood was notorious for unlocked back doors (as if an intruder would only try the front).

he stepped up into the house, glancing down at the welcome mat he was met with. ‘remember to wipe’, it read in colourful, bubbly font. he tilted his head, amused that some woman would not have grown out of such childish things. he shrugged, deciding to amuse this little request, and he wiped some of the dirt from his boots off onto the mat. he then began his ascent into the home, weaving his way through the halls until he was back where he needed to be.

right there, sitting on the couch, was the woman from the window. micheal could hear her soft breathing now, and see the way her shoulders rose and fell with each breath. he examined her from the doorway for a minute, tracing over the shadows that adorned her face.

something tugged at him, urging him to leave and abandon this prey to its warren. he didn’t understand it, thinking that there was some… performance anxiety, or something of the like. it usually happened when he was walking into a bad situation, like a trap or a victim that liked to fight, but this didn’t seem like something he should be nervous about. it was just some lady, a sleeping beauty unaware of his presence. this was an easy target. it should be, at least.

he stepped up closer to the couch, and rounded it so that he was at the front. it’s then that he learned what the feeling was, or what it was trying to tell him.

sitting at both sides of the woman were

two kids, one to each hip. they laid over her lap and nestled into the warmth of their assumed mother, sleeping just as soundly as she was. upon closer look, micheal could see they had fallen asleep while reading a story book. a version of red riding hood, warning of wolves in the forest, and intruders like him thirsting for blood.

he was a villain. he had been well aware of that fact for a long time. he had abandoned his own virtues, deciding to find comfort in unforgivable sins, but seeing such a sight made him feel… dirty. it wasn’t common for him to be so self-aware. he usually targeted people that could be justified, a bully or a selfish landlord, but this. he could feel hell nipping at his heels.

micheal stared down at them. if one could see through the holes in his mask, they would see the intense focus in his gaze. he tried to untangle the knots that had developed in his stomach. regret, apprehension, the need to retreat- they swirled around inside of him and made him step back towards the middle of the room. doing this only gave him a greater view of the home. toys strewn about the floor, a child sized table littered with photos of the kids and this mother, and the same sort of balls from outside sitting in a heap near the same window he looked through. he should’ve known when he’d seen the yard there were kids here, he should’ve listened to his own intuition, but…

he shook his head. micheal had standards. he had needs, sure, but somewhere deep inside him there were morals, buried under years and years of neglect. he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t raise a blade to these people. yet he still felt the need to disturb, to bring some fear. maybe… maybe he could.

he went over to where they all lay, resembling the corpses he had seen many a time before, and picked up the two children. he was gentle, and they seemed to nestle into him, most likely mistaking him for their mother. she stirred only for a moment, but settled relaxed against the couch. he then got to work.

in the morning, when you were awoken by the birds singing sweet tunes, and the sun shining on your face, you found yourself on your couch. it wasn’t rare that you’d fall asleep in your living room, but this felt different. you recalled the night before, and how your children had been their with you, and it made you pat the seats beside you.

they weren’t there.

for a moment you panicked, eyes widening as you sat up and began scanning the room. it had been cleaned. toys were put away carefully in their bins, pictures had been pinned to their proper cork boards, snacks had been swept off the rug- this was not how this room had been left. you knew the kids wouldn’t have cleaned it either, not without a bit of a fight. it filled you with dread. someone had been inside, and had decided to… clean? such a kind action, and yet you were filled with unease. your home had still been entered, after all.

you pushed yourself up from the couch, beginning to look around the home, calling out for the kids. the more you called without answer, the more your chest tightened. room after room you checked, until you finally shoved your way into their bedroom, and-

there they were. they were still asleep, blankets tucked tight to their chins and peace on their faces. you made sure they were breathing and all in one piece, before sitting down on the edge of a bed. your heart was still racing, the pounding filling your ears.

you had to take a moment to breathe, to reassure yourself that it was all alright. maybe you had done this and didn’t remember. you had been so exhausted yesterday. it was a weekend, and the children had been particularly energetic. maybe, in your own half-asleep state, you had put them to bed and cleaned up the living room.

you insisted that must’ve been it, nodding your head and looking up to the window.

it was open.

you stood up quick, going over to it and leaning outside over the sill. you never left their window open, as one of the children had believed there to be fairies that would whisk them away. no, no you wouldn’t forget such a thing. you couldn’t have.

you looked outside, seeing nothing in the horizon. it seemed safe. you leaned back into the room, shutting the window tight and closing the curtains.

micheal watched from the tree line.

[zablife]

Broken Promises

Henry Johnson/Michael Gray x fiancee reader

Summary: When your fiancé leaves you at the altar, you go in search of answers in a frightening, new city. As you close in on him, you find that you aren't prepared for the man he has become.

Author's Note: Requested by a lovely anon.

Warnings: broken engagement, implied SA, mention of execution, Michael being an ass, heavy angst

1921, Kent

As your grandmother's shaky hands finished pinning your veil in place, she beamed with pride. "Even more beautiful than your mother was when she wore it," she mused, wiping a tear from her eye. "I only wish she was here to see you, love."

"I have you," you reminded her, reaching forward to wrap your arms around the only family member you had left in the world.

Prying you away from her delicate frame, she gazed upon you with affection that creased every well worn line of her soft skin. Eyes glistening with tears, you noted a tinge of sadness as she admitted, "But now you have Henry." Squeezing your hands for emphasis, she confided, "I'm glad he'll be here to look after you when I'm gone."

You wanted to tell her that wouldn't be for a long time, but a sharp knock interrupted your thoughts. "Is the bride ready?" a cheerful voice chirped from the other side.

Opening the heavy oak door, you were greeted warmly by your future mother-in-law, cheeks as rosy as the apples in her orchard as she bustled into the room to add her compliments. "Aren't you a beauty!" she exclaimed.

"You're too kind," you demurred as she proceeded to tell you how pleased she was for her son.

"Have you seen Henry this morning? Is he well?" you asked excitedly, wondering how your love had fared the night before.

Since your meeting two years ago, at the tender age of sixteen, neither of you had gone a day without meeting at the wishing well at the center of your village. Sitting upon the shining white bricks, you shared the small details of your day. It might have seemed mundane to others, but it gave you a sense of comfort to know there was nothing you didn't share with one another.

Rosemary shook her head with a good natured chuckle as she admitted, "You know, in all the fuss, I haven't seen my own son!"

Her lighthearted reply made you giggle because she was accustomed to such lapses, forgetting the bread in the oven or leaving her spectacles tucked in a book.

Then in classic fashion, she overshared a bit as she patted your hand, "You know you needn't worry about the stag party. He promised his father he'd only drink mild."

"I'm not worried, Mrs. Johnson," you replied, stifling a laugh.

"Rosemary, dear," she corrected you. "And I'm certain if he isn't here, he'll be along shortly."

You nodded in agreement, smiling to yourself in the full length mirror as you brushed the lace away from your face to study your reflection carefully.

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

1924, Birmingham

The curtains in your bedsit flapped lightly in the wind, waking you with a start. A cough erupted from your lungs, unaccustomed to the smoke filled air of the city. What could have brought your fiancee to this God forsaken place?, you wondered as you rushed to close the window.

You made yourself a cup of tea and sat quietly watching the passersby, hoping by some miracle Henry would stroll by, though you knew from the papers he was locked away in a prison cell. Or at least, that's what you'd come to believe after staring at the smudged ink for too long, convinced he was now a man called Micheal Gray. Though it turned your stomach to think he was accused of murdering a priest, it was the only lead you'd found in three years time.

But in the fortnight since your arrival, you hadn't learned anything new, despite your efforts. The only other trace of Henry since your wedding had been an unreliable account by a lad who claimed he saw he a strange man with a scar speaking with Henry weeks before your wedding, rumors of a new life in Birmingham sprinkled into the conversation.

As you gazed down at the ring languishing on your finger, you wondered if he ever thought of you late at night, yearning for those moments of connection by the well. Did he even care that he'd left you all alone at the altar or worse yet, at the graveside of your beloved grandmother a month later? The heart break had nearly been too difficult to bear.

Now all you had to guide you was a whisper, a faded conversation in which Henry had been lured by the promises of a dark, foreboding stranger. This was probably why you'd forgiven his lapse of judgement, the concern for his wellbeing outweighing the anger you held in your heart. However, the second ring you wore, your grandmother's gold band, burned your skin as it reminded you of your worth which was far more than that assigned to you by your absent lover.

The combination of curiosity and indignation propelled you forward, day by day, searching the city for those who could provide answers. Usually the day ended with aching feet and a rumbling stomach, but today your efforts would be rewarded by a chance encounter with a dark haired woman, children clinging to her skirts.

You were buying a loaf of bread in the market when one of their small hands began to reach for you, their mother scolding them with a harsh slap.

"It's alright," you assured her. "Far too much for me on my own. I'm glad to share."

"Thank you," the wild eyed woman remarked, accepting your generosity. "Times are hard with my husband away. Yours locked up as well?" she ventured, casting a look at your ring.

Unsure how to reply, you lowered your eyes to the cobblestones beneath your feet as she prattled on about her John and how he'd been falsely accused thanks to her evil brother-in-law. "Not just him, mind you, everyone else in the family," she bemoaned as she fed the bread to her children. "Arthur, Polly, Michael..." she rambled absently as she tore the crust apart in even pieces.

"Did...did you say Michael? As in Michael Gray?" you stuttered hopefully.

"You know him?" she asked, head jerking up at the mention of his surname.

"Yes," you admitted, on an uneven breath. "Do you know where I can find him?"

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

It was thru her suggestion that you met with the inspector bringing charges in the case. Chester Campbell was a disagreeable man, but the only one willing to discuss matters with you privately. For that you thanked him profusely, though in an hour's time you would not have done the same.

He had only one motive in sequestering you inside an interrogation room and the instant the door slammed behind you, your heart sank with the bitter realization of his true intentions. If you wanted Michael free, or if you wanted your own freedom for that matter, he suggested you comply with every devilish command he gave.

By the time he was finished, you were shaking in violent convulsions. As he draped a coat around you to conceal the tattered remains of your dress, you slipped away into the bustling street with an official document clutched tightly to your chest. It was your only solace in those dark hours that followed, waiting for the promised release of the man you only hoped would never learn of your sacrifice.

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

You entered a new state of watchful waiting those next few days as you kept regular meetings with Esme. She kept you abreast of the news regarding the trial, mostly family matters that wouldn't be known to reporters. And though she urged you to see Michael before it was too late, you found yourself averse to the idea until one fateful day.

Finding Esme slumped over in a fit of grief, you ran to her. "What's happened?" you begged.

"Ain't you seen the papers?" she wailed.

You only shook your head in ignorance, a hand stroking along her back as she pitched forward in garbled cries. "They're....they're being executed."

The blood froze in your veins as you processed her words, wondering if this was truly the end of it all.

"You're sure?" you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. As she nodded against your shoulder you had only one question left. "When?"

"At dawn."

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

The next morning you waited by the prison gate, hands pounding against the splintering wood until your fists were raw and aching. But no one paid any attention to the woman raving beneath their window. And who could blame them when you pleaded for the life of a killer?

By the time the clock tower struck twelve, you knew in your heart that the deed was done. Henry? Micheal? Whoever the man you once loved had been in life was no more. You sank to your knees and sobbed in a way you hadn't allowed yourself since your wedding day. Three long years of pain and sacrifice for this, you thought.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, you finally found the strength to pick yourself up and amble toward the road. However, a harsh creak of metal stopped you in your tracks. Turning to face the path you'd just walked, you could hardly believe your eyes as you caught sight of Henry standing bruised and battered, but alive nonetheless.

Your breath caught in your throat as your hand reached out toward him involuntarily, years of longing superseding your rational mind. "H-henry?" you called to him.

The man before you furrowed his brow for a moment as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He looked as though he were lost in a daze as he took his time lighting it, the glowing match in his hand quivering slightly. You could tell that the years had aged him, but not beyond total recognition. Somewhere beneath the hardened exterior was the boy you knew long ago in the countryside and you longed for him to hold you in his arms once more.

However, your daydream was cut short when he replied gruffly, "What do you want?"

You stepped toward him cautiously, head tilted as you took in his disheveled appearance. His waist coat was dirty and torn, pants far too short for his height and yet he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Then you wondered if perhaps he was having trouble recalling you as well due to the recent trauma.

"It's me...Y/n," you offered gently. "I came to find what became of you," you answered earnestly. "I...I was worried."

He raised his head to the sky, considering the passing clouds for a moment before blowing a lungful of smoke upward to join them. "Well you don't have to worry anymore. I'm fine," he assured you, placing the cigarette between pursed lips.

You shook your head at his cool detachment, eyes searching his for the hint of the caring young man you once knew. "You were sentenced to hang today and that's all you have to say, Henry?"

"That's not my name," he corrected you sternly. "I go by Michael now."

"Yes, I know," you mumbled in confusion.

"Look, if you came about our engagement..." he began, a threatening scowl crossing his face as he plucked the cigarette from his lips in a telling reveal he knew exactly who you were.

"No, I see that's long forgotten," you admitted with a heavy heart. "But I want you to know I still care for you deeply," you ventured on baited breath.

He hummed to himself gently as he nodded in agreement, "I know.." Then stilling all movement he replied without a hint of emotion, "The guards told me what you did."

Your body clenched in fear at the prospect of him learning your shameful secret, but you stood fast waiting to hear what else he might say. As his mouth curled into a small smile, you allowed yourself a morsel of hope, until he spat cruelly, "They thought it was funny."

You shifted uncomfortably before him, chest aching with shattered pride as he huffed out a humorless laugh at your expense.

"I suppose it is," he decided before turning his heel into the gravel decisively, leaving you alone in the freezing shade of the empty yard.

"Wait!" you shouted, racing toward him to capture his arm between desperate fingertips. "You can't mean that. I know you cared for me once too. What happened?" you begged, tears streaming down your face.

As he flicked his cigarette butt into the street, he eyed you in a side long glance. "You think you know me, but you never understood," he said with a shake of his head.

"That's not true," you insisted, twisting his arm to make him look at you. "You loved our life...you loved...me," you stuttered out between hiccuped sobs, all the pent up emotion rising to the surface. "Don't you remember all those wonderful afternoons we spent at the wishing well?"

The clench of his jaw and the ironlike grip against your hand frightened you, but it was nothing in comparison to the spiteful look in his eye when he finally faced you.

"Do you know all the times I thought about planting dynamite beneath those pretty white bricks to blow you to hell?" he seethed.

You jerked your hand away in terror just as he released you, falling to the ground with a painful thud. "Henry?" you mumbled as you looked up at him in shock.

"I already told you, that's not who I am anymore," he hissed before stalking away and as you watched him disappear into the smoke and fog, you finally had to concede that he was right. The boy who promised to cherish you forever was gone. He'd been replaced by some monster now wandering the dark and desolate streets of his new home, a place where you did not belong.

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@thomasshelbyswife

@mythos-writes

@copinghex

@loulouwrites

@anonymooseforever007

@peakyltd

@thegreatdragonfruta

@shelbywhiterose

@look-at-the-soul

@toms-cherry-trees

@runnning-outof-time

@justrainandcoffee

@emotionalcadaver

@novashelby

[sabrinajenre96]

Episode thirty six - Final Chapter: “The Legacy Continues”

Micheal Robinavitch x wife reader x kids

Author note: this is the last chapter of this amazing ride. Next chapter is the epilogue

The house was quieter than usual. After months of anticipation and the chaos of welcoming baby Jake into the family, everything had finally settled. Michael and Y/N stood at the window, gazing out at the backyard where the kids—now growing fast—were playing with Kojo. Alex was running after Spencer, who was determined to pull off some elaborate new adventure, her trusty dog Kojo following her every move.

“Can you believe it?” Y/N said softly, her hand resting gently on her swollen belly. “We’re done. We’ve got our four kids.”

Michael chuckled. “Are we sure about that? I think we’re just getting started.”

She laughed, turning to him. “I don’t know. I think I’m ready to pass the torch.”

Just as Michael opened his mouth to tease her, Spencer’s voice rang out from the backyard.

“Dad! Mom! Look! Kojo’s the best dog ever!” Spencer called, as she and Alex proudly held up their “recruitment” pamphlet for Kojo, which included new tricks and tasks, with baby Jake, now just over a month old, nestled peacefully in Y/N's arms.

The sight filled their hearts—every child, every life they had created together, was a reminder of everything they’d been through. Michael’s adoption of Sawyer, their adventures as a family, the trials and triumphs, and the ultimate goal they’d worked toward—building a future full of love, understanding, and care for one another.

That evening, the family gathered around the dinner table, everyone’s laughter echoing through the house. Spencer had insisted on setting the table for dinner, preparing a presentation of her “memoir notes” for her family, with every section meticulously color-coded and labeled. Despite Michael’s attempts to tease her about it, Spencer was more determined than ever to complete her story—"The Journey of the Final Recruit."

And of course, the whole family participated in her little game, even Jake Abbott joining in as a “guest editor,” to everyone’s amusement.

As dinner was being served, Jack and Sabrina sat across from Michael and Y/N, their hands intertwined. Jack leaned forward, smiling at the chaos of their kids—Sawyer checking in with Spencer about some new science theory, Alex leaning over the table to whisper something to his sister, and Spencer helping baby Jake with the smallest toy.

“I guess we’ll be next,” Sabrina said, her voice soft. “I’m not ready for the chaos you guys created just yet, but I think we might be there sooner than later.”

Y/N smiled, glancing at Michael. “You’re never really ready for the chaos. But it’s all worth it.”

Michael reached over and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked over at his brother-in-law. “You’ll figure it out. Family has a funny way of falling together, even when you think you’ve got everything figured out.”

Jack nodded. “I’ve got a great example to follow.”

The evening wore on, with Spencer getting the final chapter of her memoir completed. They were nearing the end of their dinner when Y/N felt a twinge of exhaustion in her limbs. But it wasn’t the usual tiredness—it was the contentment that comes when you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

She watched her children interact, watched Michael and Jack share a laugh over an old joke from the hospital, and saw the warmth in her own mother’s eyes, knowing that this was the culmination of everything they’d been through—the twists, the turns, the struggles and the joys. They had made it.

As they cleaned up dinner, the family settled into the living room, and Spencer began to read aloud from her memoir, her voice serious yet playful. The entire family gathered around her as she recited the final lines of her chapter, the words “The Final Recruit Has Arrived” bringing everything full circle.

Y/N looked at Michael, her heart full. “This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Creating a family.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We’ve built something beautiful here.”

It was then that Y/N realized—this wasn’t just the end of one chapter; it was the beginning of many more.

And as the kids settled down for bed, Y/N leaned against Michael, their hands entwined, and whispered, “I’m glad we’ve built this together. The legacy we’ve created—it’ll never end.”

Michael’s smile was gentle, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s just the beginning.”

As the family, the chaos, and the love of the Robinavitch household settled into the quiet of the night, they knew that no matter what came next, they had created something extraordinary—a family full of love, a legacy that would carry on for generations.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising II

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 2.9k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A/n: I am gonna be 100% honest with all of yall, I have cried, yelled at myself, and threaten to throw my phone across the room. Because I had no idea how to get the reader and the boys to meet. So, this honestly will probably suck, but I have tried my hardest. Spent too many hours deleting and rewriting for this to be bad. So please enjoy if can

The board walk was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was packed full of bustling people, everyone wanting to go through all the rides, shops and games that they had on display. 

Lights came from all around, aluminating your way through the crowd as you tried to decide what to do first on the boardwalk. Screams and laughter sounded from the rollar coaster ride, the bumps and spins tempted you, but you knew that you’d need to ease your way into everything. 

This would be the moment when you’d wish that Sam or Micheal had come with you, they would try to do everything at once. But, unfortunately, right as you three had arrived; the boys had caught wind of a concert, ditching you to go watch Timmy Cappello perform. 

Treacherous dicks. You called them, wishing that at least one of them would have stuck with you as you ventured where you’d be spending the remainder of your summer. 

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts, the heat of the night air causing a faint sheen of sweat to coat your body. After you’d finished unpacking all the necessities from the car, you’d taken a quick shower and changed for a night out on the board walk.

And thankfully so, the gentle breeze against your bare legs cooled you down enough for you to actually enjoy the night out. 

Chimming bells suddenly grasped your attention, facing the noise, you saw a small shop that was isolated from the others. One of the stores windows was cracked, a piece of cardboard covered the inside to prevent the glass from falling out. 

It was a music shop. 

You remembered when your dad would take you as a kid, letting you pick out cassette tapes, and vinyl records for your room. The old record player would run all day from how many times you would listen to Elvis, Buck Owen’s, and The mamás & the papas. 

It was such a shame that you had to sell the record player and half of your vinyl collection to help out after the divorce. With such little money, you had to make sacrifices for your family. No matter how much you regretted it afterwards.

You glanced up at the sign above the door, a wooden guitar with the words Soundscape etched into the body, swayed against the gentle breeze.  A young couple walked out of the store, hand in hand, a paper bag with their purchase held tightly as they ambled away. 

Reaching into your pocket, you felt around for your wallet. The small leather bound material felt weighted as you pulled it out, the sudden urge to spend your money caused you to open the door of the shop. 

The bell rang above you, and a quick greeting sounded from the cashier. You politely greeted him back before wandering throughout the store. 

It was decently clean, a few stray cd’s littered the ground and a couple display posters were a bit too crooked. But, overall, it was perfect for you. 

You trailed your fingers over a couple of vinyls, picking up a few before putting them back in place. Not really looking for anything specific at the moment, you just tried to find something that would catch your eye. 

Stopping infront of the cassette tapes, you let yourself go through each row, the soft clicking as the cassettes bumped against each other drifted up towards your ears. That and the sound of Jeff Lynne’s voice singing Don’t bring me down, was the only noise that filtered throughout the store. 

Your finger graced an Elvis cassette, the image of him and his infamous guitar sat in the clear case. Picking up the tape, you flipped it over reading the listed songs that went with each side. It had a couple good ones; like Blue Suede Shoes, All Shook Up, Return To Sender, Burning Love and of course some others. 

It was his top greatest hits from each album. 

You tapped the plastic against your palm, debating if you should spend the money just to add to your Elvis collection. You actually had a lot of collections that you needed to complete, but, with this specific artist you only had small handful left to find. 

Kinda like Sam’s Batman comics that he’s been trying to find at every book store that you’d passed on the way down here. 

The bell suddenly rang once more, dragging your attention away from the shelf infront of you. A group of men walked in, each leather clad and mullet wearing. The smell of smoke drifted off of them, wafting through the store. It made you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

“Welcome to the SoundScape,” The Cashier told them, the rehearsed words falling easily out of his mouth. “If you need any help, please let me know.”

None of the guys acknowledged the worker, or, they did though they just didn’t pay him any mind. You watched as they each dispersed from one another, going to different displays around the store. Picking up random items before putting them back where they originally were. 

One of the guys walked down the same row you were on, his eyes trailing over the selection of cassettes. You returned your gaze back to your own tape, not wanting to be caught staring at the guy like a creep. 

Eyeing the rack infront of you, wondering if you should buy the Elvis tape or possibly another. If you’d had enough money on you. You kept your eye on a Boney M. cassette, the item practically calling your name. You reached forward fingers less than an inch away from the plastic when a sudden commotion caused you to freeze. 

BAM!

Your head instantly shot up, the sudden noise disturbing the once peaceful silence. It came from a guy in the leathered group, the small one with curly hair, he stood over a fallen display of cd’s. His hands held up in the air, a small smug grin tugging on his lips as he turned to the stores worker. 

“I’m sorry, man.” He told him, his apologie laced with sarcasm. “It just started falling.”

The cashier let out a deep sigh, his smile turning from genuine to forced as he eyed the scattered items. “It’s alright, accidents happen.”

You watched as the curly guy bent down and picked up the stand, purposely hitting the one right beside it as he did so. He let out another fake apology before the worker shooed him away, picking up everything himself before curly messed up the entire store. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the movement of the blond beside you shove something in his pocket. You turned you head slightly, to get a better view, and you watched as he took another cassette from the shelf and put it on the inside of his jacket. 

You glanced between him and the other three guys that he came in with, noticing that with the worker busy they were taking items off of their display and stuffing them deep into their clothes. Hell, the curly guy was trying to fit a whole vinyl record in the front of his shirt. A very prominent square outlined for everyone to see. 

It was a diversion, knocking over enough stuff for the counter guy to get pissed and pick everything up himself. It was clever, but still wrong. 

With your attention kept on the tapes infront of you, you opened your mouth. Voice low enough so that only the blonde next to you could hear. “You shouldn’t do that.”

The man glanced up at you, not at all ashamed of what he was doing. “What’s that?”

“You shouldn’t steal.”

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning his upper body against the shelf. “Oh, really?” He asked, voice drawing out into a tease. “Wanna tell me why I shouldn’t, babe?”

You gestured to the store around you, eyes meeting his. “Because, its wrong. And, just because you and your friends can’t see that, doesn’t mean that it’s right.”

“Well, me and my friends seem to think it pretty damn fun.” He told you, pushing off the shelf as he took a few small steps towards you. “So, your reasoning is pretty much useless in this case.”

The guy stood a mere foot away from you, his eyes trailing across your face. His smile growing ever so slightly as he took you in. “So, watcha gonna do about it?” He asked, voice soft and teasing as he held a tape infront of you. 

“Put it back.”

“Why? There is no fun in doing the right thing.” He waved the item in your face. “Is there, babe?”

You snatched the cassette from his grasp, eyes not once leaving his as you placed it randomly on the shelf. “Put ‘em all back.” You scolded, voice rising ever so slightly. “It’s shitty and disrespectful for the ones that try to make a living working in places like this.”

He glanced over the top rack, eyeing the worker with disinterest. “Yeah, but, it’s also disrespectful to have to work at a place like this.” He turned back to you. “So, if he gets fired then he’ll come and thank us.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, wanting to tell him how much his point didn’t make since. When you notice how quiet the store had gotten, the music coming from the speakers and the worker picking up the cds were the only thing. Glancing around you couldn’t see the guys friends, all of them gone from where they originally were. 

“Yeah, Paul, put it back.” A voiced suddenly called from beside you, arm slinging itself across your shoulder. 

Peering beside you, you saw the curly haired guy, his eyes dancing between both you and Paul. You didn’t even hear him come up behind you, in fact you didn’t even know that he had moved from where he was across the store. 

You pushed off his arm, the feeling of his body pressed up against your own made your face heat up. Looking back at Paul, you noticed how his body seemed to get more ecstatic, smile forming into a friendly tease. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you put up that vinyl of yours.” He tapped against the cardboard beneath the fabric. 

Curly swatted his hand away, pulling the vinyl from beneath his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You eyed the disc on the ground, annoyance seeping into your chest at the disregard of store. 

“Pick it up.” You told the smaller one, side stepping away from them both to give yourself some room. 

He tsked, eyes roaming your body up and down. “Well, aren’t you a bossy one.”

“I wouldn’t be bossy if you’d stop fucking-“

“Watch your mouth.” A different voice spoke up, stopping you from finishing your sentence. You glanced over at the voice, taking in his long overcoat and bleach blonde hair. “It’s not nice to treat strangers that way.”

You furrowed you eyebrows, “If your saying I’m being rude, than that’s really the last thing I care about right now.”

A few small snickers came from around you, causing you to look around at each men that surrounded you. The two blondes stood the closest to you, giving you just a foot of breathing room. Then there were the the bleach blonde and brunette. They stood the furthest from you, but their stares alone were enough to make you feel like they were everywhere at once. 

Your body felt like it was on fire underneath their gazes, that and your dignity slowly burning away as realized how much of a fool you must look like right now.  You quickly crouched down, picking up the vinyl and gently setting it on the shelf. Not really caring that it’s not where it belongs right now. 

Someone cleared their throat. You and the guys turned your attention towards the worker, who stood behind the counter with a wet rag. “We’re closing.” He told them, nodding toward the door with little patience. “If your gonna buy something, now is the time.”

You gave him a quick ‘ok’, forced smile gracing your features as you turned to face the men. You eyed them wearyingly, knowing that they could just easily walk out of here without doing at all what you’ve been asking. 

A soft chuckle came from the bleach blonde, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “C’mon, Paul.” He said, turning to walk out of the store. “Put ‘em back, we got places to be.” 

You watched as he pulled out a cd, the front of the case covered in a band called Scorpion. He set it down on the shelf, his eyes not once leaving your own. “We’ll see you around.” He muttered, voice low and mesmerizing to hear as he spoke.

It was almost like a fly getting caught in honey. Alluring and sticky, but, it’s just a trap for the prey. 

You didn’t acknowledge his words, instead you just watched as he walked out, the others slowly trailing after him. The brunette hadn’t muttered a single word since entering the store, and apparently didn’t feel the need to as he stepped outside. 

Curly slowly wandered towards the door, turning swiftly to wave his fingers at you before disappearing behind the glass. A simple ‘Have a nice night’ spilling from his lips as he did so. Paul then turned to walked out, his arm resting across your shoulder slide off. Hand coming up to pinch your nose. “Yeah, we’ll be seeing ya around.” He told you, voice indicating that it wasn’t a suggestion, but more of a promise. 

Swatting his hand away from your face, you watched as he chuckled, walking away as he went to join his friends. Leaving you all alone in the isle, with nothing but your Elvis tape and flustered face. 

Engines revved outside as you walked up to the cashier, the sound of the fading bikes meeting your ears as you tossed the cassette on the counter. The worker rang you up, placed your item in a paper bag and thanked you for your purchase. You quietly wished him good night, before turning on your heal and walking outside. 

You were quickly met with the warm night air, the loud noises coming from the boardwalk surrounded you once more. You held on tightly to the paper bag, the cassette softly rattling inside as you quickly walked away from the Soundscape. 

You were still flustered from your interaction with the four boys. The feeling of their bodies pressed up against your own made the night heat all the more unbearable. What if I would have just left them alone? You thought, swerving through a group of people that waited patiently for the carousel. 

They still would have taken from the shop, and that guy would’ve probably lost his job from all the items missing. But, you wouldn’t have lost some of your dignity whilst doing so. 

A sigh left your lips, unoccupied hand going into your jacket pocket. Though instead of the feeling of the scratchy fabric, your fingers graced against a peice of cold plastic. You stopped walking, standing by your lonesome in the middle of the boardwalk as you pulled out whatever rested in your pocket. 

It was a Scorpion cd. The same one that you saw the bleach blonde pull from his coat. You hadn’t even felt him slip the item in your pocket, was it when you were getting on to him or when he was leaving? Was he even the one that slipped it in?

Stupid prick, you thought. Stuffing the disk into the paper bag with your Elvis one, there was no sense in returning it now. The shop was already closing up and how would you even explain that to the poor worker. 

You shook your head, the events of the night tiring you out. 

From a distance you could see both Sam and Micheal standing in the middle of the boardwalk, their attention caught on a girl and little boy. You made your way over to your brothers, the paper bag swaying in your hand as your feet picked up. 

Sam greeted you when you came near, his long over coat brushing against his shoes. “He’s been following her since the concert.” He told you, gesturing with his hand towards the pretty girl. 

“Mmh, hey, peeping Tom.” You tugged on Micheal sleeve, trying to pull him away. “I’m ready to go home.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, his eyes staring longingly at the back of the girls head. You pulled once more at his arm, barely getting him to move when the sudden loud noise of multiple vehicles rushed on the boardwalk. Glancing towards the disturbance, you watched as four familiar bodies stopped infront of the girl and boy. 

They each revved their engines, purposely scaring away anyone that too close. You watched as the little boy made his way over to one of the motorcycles, the brunette pulling him up to sit behind him. 

The girl placed her arm across the bleach blondes chest, hosting herself onto the back of the motorcycle. “C’mon, man, she played you.” Sam told his brother, pulling him away from his rooted spot on the deck. You stayed put for a second, slowly trailing after your brothers as the engines of the bikes faded from earshot. 

Your mind going to when exactly you’d be seeing them again. 

A/a/n: Like I said, this took so long to figure out how exactly the reader and the boys would meet each other. So, I honestly would understand if y'all don’t like this, but, trust me the other chapters are going to be a whole lot better.

[kitsunesakii]

So I talked a lot about Micheal - in regards to another time

And I got more

What if, in another universe, when Sasha met Micheal the distortion,

When Sasha followed him, trusting him even a little

What if, in another universe, Sasha became his friend

She starts seeing him slowly, consistently,

In her house, at the shop across the street, a door that wasn't there before at the end of the hallway in the archives

It doesn't bother her, doesn't scare her

She understands the oddities that come along with the archives and kind of accepts him as one of them

And slowly, without telling much to the rest of her team, a small sliver of trust begins to build between them

She tries to be smart about it, tried to reason with herself that it's some trick or distortion of reality

But she can't deny the way he looks out her window at the cars with a small longing in his spiral eyes

She can't deny the way when her cat hops onto his lap, the softness she sees in the way he curls towards the animal, his too long fingers softly petting the purring creature

She offers him tea, hell she doesn't know what she should do but the silence would kill her and it was useless to pretend he wasn't there

He laughs, and she takes it as a kindness

In another universe, Sasha leans on her new friendship with Micheal the distortion

She sees his anger, and she levels it out, it's a mystery to her, the way she talks him out of his curling unreality - and in a way, Micheal doesn't understand it either, it's a confusing amalgamation that only seems to work because of how wrong it seems

But it does

A friendship, that in another universe, saves her life

Micheal doesn't much care for the ins and outs of the Magnus Institute, and he still loves watching Jon get himself into trouble every step of the way.... But when the circus tries to hurt Sasha....

In another universe, Micheal saves Sasha from the Stranger

It's only a day later when Sasha finally tells Jon and the others that she's been talking with Micheal, that he saved her from *something*

Jon just about loses it, shouting about how absolutely idiotic shes being and how much danger she could have been in - deep down though, he's utterly relieved she's alive

In another universe, Micheal the distortion saved Sasha, and Sasha might be all the humanity he needs

[poetpony6890]

Stoned and slapped (violence!)

Having followed Micheal out of pure curiosity, Luke had not expected to see him reach into his pocket, light what he assumed to be a cigarette up and flipped down to the great green grass of the Idris country side. Naturally, Luke gently came down beside him, he opened one eye, then sat up.

“Lucian.” Micheal greeted with a grin. “Had no idea I had such a fan base, this must be what Valentine feels like.” Micheal teased, holding the paper out for Luke, who carefully took it. What he meant to do was actually check it before he put it in his mouth, but he didn’t. As he blew out, he locked into the colour of the herbs under the paper.

“Why’s it green?” Luke asked, well taking another hit of it, before passing it back to Micheal’s bony hands.

“It’s weed.” Micheal clarified, to which Luke still looked a bit confused.

“It’ll get you drunk without the hangover, and it won’t really get you drunk drunk, more buzzed you know?” Micheal tried again, but shrugged as Luke just shook his head lightly.

“well you’ll see.” Micheal teased, passing the joint back to Luke, who hit it before speaking through smoke.

“I guess I will.” Luke breathed, starting to feel a cough forming in the soft pink at the back of his throat.

“Are you going to the circle meeting today?” Micheal asked, smiling as he breathed the thick smoke out.

“Yes, I have to. I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t.” Luke shrugged, as Micheal wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Passing the hand rolled joint towards Luke, who accepted it with a small almost silent thanks.

“I will, I guess.” Micheal teased, watching Luke blow out smoke rings, then start coughing loudly.

“Chill..” Micheal laughed, patting and rubbing the whole of Luke’s denim jacket covered back.

“I-I’m - fu-fuck! I-I’m tr-trying..” Luke managed to get out, spitting onto the ground between his knees.

“Come on, let’s go.” Micheal decided, putting the roach of the joint out onto the grass, then helping Luke up onto his feet by holding out his hand for him and pulling him upwards towards himself.

“Thanks.” Luke grinned, almost touching Micheal’s paling face.

“yeah, whatever. Let’s get going.” Micheal shunned, still letting Luke hang off his shoulders. As they begun to walk towards the academy building, as stratus clouds covered the booming sun.

They didn’t speak again, until they ran into Hodge in the front hallway.

“Watch where you’re going!” Micheal giggled, as he slapped the stack of books in his hands down.

“You’re fucked.” Luke mumbled, even though most of the members of the circle did things 12 times worse than that to him on a regular basis. Having joined a ‘club’ dedicated to misfits, yet still being bullied was honestly impressive.

“He I know!” Micheal grinned, opening the door to the room where they meet, an abandoned classroom.

“Luke! Come here.” Someone said before he could even see them, which seemed to a harder task than usual.

The man who had called him, belonged to his sister’s boyfriend, Stephen. He patted the desk in front of the chair he sat in, and Luke slid up on it, spreading his legs slightly.

“What should I get Atamis for her birthday?” Stephen asked, ashing out some of his cigarette before handing it to Luke, who this time, looked at it, and then put it into his mouth to take a long drag.

“Nothing, she hates her birthday. A card would even be too much.” Luke slurred, watching as Valentine came into the room. He had unintentionally stopped listen to Stephen’s thoughtful voice.

From the one window not covered by a ripped curtain, Valentines two ebony eyes caught in the light, making them look much lighter than they truly were. His glazed back head of completely stalk white hair was shiny, almost transparent in the current lighting. He wore what most of the wore, a plain dark t shirt, and dark leggings, it fit it perfectly as it was meant to, it showed off his tight ribs, loose legs and not that Luke was exactly looking, long Johnson. He had a letterman jacket for the Idris Elks slung over his shoulder, and held the door open for Hodge had he came in.

“Okay, let’s get this meeting started.” He stated to the room, Luke turned around and slid on onto Stephen’s lap, tossing his legs up onto the decaying desk.

Having slept until this point, Luke wouldn’t be able to tell what had caused this fight, but he remembers waking up to this;

“YOUR A STUPID BITCH! I GENUINELY DONT UNDERSTAND HOW YOUR MOTHER HASN’T DISOWNED YOU!” Valentine shouted, raising both his arms loudly.

“AND YOUR STUPID JUST LIKE YOUR DEAD FUCKIN DAD!” Marsye shouted back.

“How about we all calm down and..”Stephen started, rumbling Luke’s rib cage.

This was not what happened, as Valentine slapped Marsye harshly acrossed the faced and she, in simple terms, pulled a knife to his neck. Many people in the room shoot up, including Stephen, who just limply held Luke in his one arm, the other reaching for his forest green stele.

“Let’s all just agree this meeting has come to an end!” Hodge shouted out, but neither Valentine or Maryse backed down, the both of them at a deathly staring contest.

“Valentine, stop this. There’s no reason to keep this going.” Luke called out, letting himself down, to walk over to them, his steps slightly off balance, thankfully Marsye agreed with him when Valentine clearly didn’t, and stalked off.

Without a word, Valentine dragged Luke out of the room so fast he didn’t have time to see who was in it.

“I can’t believe she said that and held a knife to my fucking neck! Look at it!” Valentine shouted, now in the bathroom of their bedroom, glaring at himself in the mirror.

Cautiously, Luke came over and into the view of the cleaned mirror. He wrapped his arms around Valentines waist and looked at it, both in the mirror and on his neck, gently kissing the bleeding mark that was made.

“Are you fucking high right now?” Valentine half asked, half shouted, turning around and pinning Luke to the wall behind them, catching his jaws in his hands and turning his face.

“yes, very.” Luke responded honestly, as Valentine licked his thick thumb and used it to clean the darkened blood on Luke’s lip.

“I can tell, did you even remember falling asleep?” Valentine asked, not letting his grip go.

“I’m sober enough to know you probably deserved that knife to your throat.” Luke replied, causing Valentine to turn him over, holding his arm into a painful position.

“What?!” Valentine asked, pressing himself into Luke with great force.

“You shouldn’t be testing people like that if you know they’re gonna fight back, especially Marsye.” Luke muttered, this time, he was the one who wasn’t backing down.

“Shut the fuck up you can’t say a single thing if you were asleep.” Valentine scolded, pushing off of Luke.

“I think you should go apologize, she’ll do it back you know.” Luke stated in a hushed tone, carefully watching as Valentine went over to the window and flung it open, then light up a cigarette.

“Sober up and fuck off.” Valentine replied. “I hate people who do that shit.”

“And sometimes I hate you, so we’re even.” Luke replied, leaving the room entirely.

[anythinggoesbutme]

You Always Knew

Micheal Townsend x Lia Zhang

Warnings: Alcohol use, emotional vulnerability, references to past romantic relationships, unresolved tension, angst, bittersweet tone, soft cursing (implied), lingering heartbreak.

Synopsis: Thinking more about how Cassie has chosen Dean, a drunken Michael Townsend confesses his deepest regrets to Lia Zhang—the one person who’s always seen straight through him. What begins as a bitter spiral ends in quiet honesty and unresolved love.

Song: “The Night We Met” — Lord Huron

Word Count: 792

The bar was loud, but Michael wasn’t listening to anything except his own thoughts, which had a nasty habit of growing louder with every sip. His jacket was somewhere on the booth beside him, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows, one hand loosely cradling a half-empty glass of whiskey. He hadn’t touched it in a while.

Lia found him by the window, slouched in a booth like he was trying not to be seen. Not that she needed to see his face to know it was bad—she could read the curve of his shoulders, the tension in his spine. Michael didn’t slouch unless something had come undone.

“Didn’t know we were day drinking now,” she said lightly, but there was a warning in her voice. She slid into the booth across from him without asking.

Michael’s eyes met hers slowly, as if he had to climb out of a deep hole just to recognize her. Then came the smile—crooked, half-sad, and not even remotely convincing.

“Agent Zhang,” he said, the words a little slurred but charming as ever. “Come to interrogate me?”

“You’d know if I was,” she said, folding her hands on the table.

He gave a soft laugh and looked down into his glass. “I don’t know much these days. Except that this stuff—” he lifted the glass lazily, “—tastes worse the more you want it to fix something.”

“Did something happen?” Her voice was careful. Not too gentle—Michael didn’t do well with pity—but not cold either. They knew each other too well for that.

Michael shrugged. “Dean’s getting serious with her. Cassie.”

There it was.

Lia didn’t flinch, but the breath she took was shallow. She’d known, of course. Cassie had chosen Dean a long time ago, and Michael had acted like it didn’t matter. Like nothing ever really mattered to him. That was his armor, wasn’t it? The easy grin, the flirtation, the sarcasm. That was how he survived reading what everyone else felt all the damn time.

She watched him carefully. Michael, for all his swagger, couldn’t lie to her. Not well. Not for long.

“Is this about her?” she asked.

Michael looked at her, really looked. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger, maybe, or grief. But mostly, exhaustion. “It’s not about Cassie,” he said finally. “Not really.”

Lia leaned back in her seat. “Then what is it?”

There was a long pause. Michael didn’t look at her right away, like saying it out loud might snap something in both of them.

“It’s about you,” he said quietly.

Lia froze.

Michael laughed, the sound raw and bitter. “God, I’m such an idiot. I spent so long chasing after something I knew wasn’t mine. And now, I’m sitting here thinking about you and me and all the times we tried to make it work and didn’t. Like a broken record I can’t stop playing.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her hands tightened in her lap. “You broke up with me, remember? Every single time.”

“I know,” he said. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you. Because you scared the hell out of me.”

His eyes were glassy now, his voice slipping into something softer, less performative. “You always knew when I was lying. Even when I didn’t know I was. You could tear me apart with three words, Lia, and you didn’t. You never did.”

She looked away.

“I used to think I didn’t want someone who could see through me,” he continued. “That it would make me feel too exposed. But the truth is, being seen—really seen—by you… it felt like home.”

The words sat heavy between them. Lia felt her throat tighten, but she pushed it down. Always the composed one. Always the liar.

“I can’t do this with you again,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.”

There was another silence. The kind that said more than any argument ever could.

“But if you ever needed me,” Michael added, leaning forward, “I’d show up. You know that, right? Drunk or sober. Across the country or across the damn room—I’d be there.”

Her eyes locked on his. “Why?”

“Because you were the first person who ever looked at me and didn’t just see what I could do. You saw who I was. And you didn’t run.”

She reached across the table then, fingertips brushing his hand. A ghost of a touch. A promise not to say the things she wanted to.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”

When she stood to leave, he didn’t ask her to stay. And she didn’t say goodbye.

But he watched her until she was gone.