#pre international rescue

[darkestwolfx]

Already it is Wednesday again!

So, one of my current WIP's is based on this one shot I wrote back in 2020 for one of the march prompts I was doing before I went away.

This is pre-international rescue, so younger Tracy family, and expands on the back story mentioned here. Hopefully it will be enjoyable when it's done!

Some of you may remember the lengthy notes for it that I included on the tumblr post here about the type of centipede that featured in it!

At the time I had been very lucky to only hear stories. I would just like to say I have now seen one of these critters on my return trip and I was not a fan. Forget butterflies and spiders, the Amazonian giant Centipede is the scariest insect in my opinion. Feel free to start a debate on scary insects here!

P.S. I have noted my inbox. Thank you all!

The forest– jungle– area (for there had been some debate for some time as to which it was officially classed at) was probably the biggest thing to get used to. It covered a large part of the island and for miles was all you could see. From the house it looked as lush as an emerald forest from the fantasy stories and as tropical as the mix of colours upon fruit swimming in a punch bowl. What the terrain was like underneath the growth was hard to tell, for the island had a distinct rise in its mountainous rocks, but whether the forest had paths or shear drops or impenetrable places, had never been mapped. “And rightly so,” Dad had explained. He’d told them it was densely packed and that he’d gleamed such immediately from flying overhead with not a slither of sight to the land in which the tree roots entwinned themselves. It was dangerous, was the undercurrent of the explanation, and – despite having been known in his youth to live on the edge of danger himself – he has no intentions for any of them trying to throw caution to the wind. That was what the eldest three sons had taken away from the stern sit down upon their first arrival at the completed house on the island at least. It wasn’t like there wasn’t enough space on the rest of the island for them to take up their time with.

[right-brain-of-froggy2]

Halloween Ch3: Almost As Good As The Milan Fashion Show

I hope I don’t disappoint with my final decisions over the Halloween costume of our favorite blonds! I actually got the ideas from one of my very favorite animators ;) Enjoy y’all!

AO3 link here!

They find out what Gordon and Alan have picked out for their costumes two days before the rush of trick-or-treating starts. Jeff is due to leave in the morning for another three month long expedition for moon base repairs. That night is also the elementary school’s Halloween dance where all the kids dress up, get some snacks and candy, and parents get a free babysitting night from the school. Scott remembers it faintly through pictures of him and John on their own.

And it’s all Alan has been talking about. The school event has been hyped extensively by Gordon- no doubt ready for all the free candy and carnival games they get to play on top of trick-or-treating. Being in kindergarten, this is the first year Alan gets to go. At the same time, it’s Virgil’s last. Scott refuses to think about his middle brother growing out of the trick-or-treating age. At least he and John stopped around the same time.

After Scott gets home from school, he dumps his backpack on one of the breakfast table chairs and toes off his tennis shoes. It looks like everyone’s home before him tonight, even John. His robotics club must have gotten done before his meeting.

Virgil dashes out of the living room where Alan is playing. Gordon suspiciously can’t be heard from the general vicinity. He tugs on Scott’s wrist to pull him out of earshot from younger brothers. Scott scrunches his nose in confusion when they wind up on the stairs between the first floor and the basement.

“Virgil?”

“We should get our costumes on early. Like now!”

“Why?” Scott checks the clock on his phone. “It’s only five. Doesn’t the whole thing start at seven?”

“Yeah but… I figured you’d be the one driving us.”

“John might tag along, but yeah I’m driving. So?”

“So Dad won’t see our costumes at all! Everyone’s always tired and half the costumes have been ripped off by the end of the party. And he’s leaving tomorrow morning before trick or treating.”

“So you want a costume fashion show?”

Virgil blushes. He kicks Scott in the back of the knee. “When you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

Scott laughs, leaning on the stair railing. “No, no. It's a good idea! Why don’t you pull him out of the office and I round up Thing One and Thing Two?”

After a quick whoop that Scott agreed to his idea, Virgil rushes all the way downstairs to Jeff’s office. Their Dad has been MIA for days as he prepares for the mission. Between packing and calling the base with even more calls out to the agency, Virgil isn’t sure his idea will fly. But a little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Scott tells him that doesn’t matter. Jeff shouldn’t miss this Halloween like the last few.

Virgil knocks for posterity’s sake. Without getting an immediate answer, Virgil barges in. Or rather, he peeks his head in through a crack in the door. His Dad is flipping through documents (not on the phone, write that down in the record books). The middlest Tracy sucks in a breath and grabs his father by the wrist without a word.

“Virgil? Wha-”

A little concerning to Jeff, but Virgil is in too high of spirits for someone to have gotten hurt. Virgil has to physically drag him out of the office to get him out to the living room. The sight that greets Jeff is his four other children sprawled about the living room couches and chairs, and the floor in Scott’s case. It’s a little ominous having all the boys sitting around in one room when it’s not mealtime. Their eyes all look to him and Virgil. Jeff’s not pleased about being dragged away from his work, but if something is wrong with his boys…

“What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Virgil shakes his head before breaking out into a smile. He flops belly first onto the largest unoccupied couch cushion. “We’re going to show you our costumes!”

“You dragged me out to show me costumes?”

“We all think it’ll be a fun thing to do before you miss Halloween,” Scott grits out. “Again.”

Maybe he should be a bit more cordial with his father. But for God’s sake, he has five sons and is leaving again for the Moon of all places! A two-week notice would have been nice. Damn. Just the sight of Jeff makes Scott realize that he’s been out of sight, out of mind for too long during his home visit after the first few days. He stamps down the frustration.

Jeff grumbles. John doesn’t seem too pleased about being dragged out of his room either, but that can be chalked up to teenager anti-social tendencies. It is John after all.

Virgil volunteers to go first. No arguments arise- it was Virgil’s idea so it’s only fair he goes first. He bounds up the stairs two at a time to get up to his room. They hear Virgil pacing about from down below- a sound soon drowned out by Alan and Gordon’s chatterings. Jeff is distracted, pulling out his phone to check statuses. It’s not hard to tell even by Jeff’s normal tendencies. Their dad doesn’t look away from his phone even as Alan clamors into his lap.

“What candy do you want most, Daddy?”

Jeff breaks his stare away from the reflecting screen. “Hmm?”

“I want Sour Patch Kids. Or those sour sucking candies,” Gordon supplies.

“Warheads.”

Gordon nods at Scott’s correction. “Warheads! They hurt and it’s funny to see Alan try and eat them.”

It figures Gordon wouldn’t even like eating them as much as he does seeing his brothers react to the citric acid. Scott rolls his eyes. He kicks his legs out in front of him, his back to the recliner’s base. Alan pouts at Gordon with crocodile-tear eyes. Unlike the older brothers, he doesn’t totally understand why it’s funny to see him eat Warheads. He can’t even remember the taste of the candy, but Gordon’s tone is the one he uses when mocking him.

“No it’s not! It’s not even good candy!”

“Is to!”

“Is not!”

“Is to!”

Alan starts kicking his legs, trying to get away from Jeff’s now tightening grip. Alan stretches his arms past Jeff’s arm to get a hit in on his brother. Scott rubs at his eyes as he leans head back. Time to try and intervene. “Hey Alan, what candy do you like then?”

“None!”

“It can be any flavor?”

“Not Gordon’s flavor!”

Scott sends a helpless look to Jeff. At least he’s not the one holding back the tiny terror. A saving voice floats across from the lone recliner.

“I remember you liked chocolate last year. Was it Snickers or something without peanuts you traded all your Twizzlers for?”

“… no nuts, but I like the crispy chocolate. And not Twizzlers.”

“Oh, Crackle? That one’s pretty yummy. I bet Scott will trade you his if he gets any this year.”

God bless John and his knack for calming the tinies down. If Scott tried any further, he wouldn’t even get into one of Alan’s ears. Middle of meltdowns he can handle. But diffusing meltdowns before they even happen? That’s all John and his quiet, no nonsense voice.

Scott tackles the task of scooting over the carpet next to Gordon. He throws a mock headlock over Gordon’s neck and earns a round of devious giggles. Keeping him pinned on the floor, there’s no way for him and Alan to start a physical fight now. John starts slapping the arm of the couch while counting down in a WWE announcer’s voice.

There’s a flash of movement from the couch and, oh yeah, their dad is here. Scott can’t very easily prod him to join in on the conversation more from down here.

The littlest brother is pacified once again. When he turns to Scott with hopeful eyes that he’ll be getting Scott’s loot on top of his own, the eldest can only shrug. He’s not the one doing the trick-or-treating, that’s all the little three. He’s just the chaperone. Gordon cranes his neck back against Scott’s arm to look at John. “What candy do you want this year?”

“He’s not coming, ‘member?” Alan pouts a little too harshly.

“Why?”

“He’s handing out candy.”

“More like gonna leave it in a bowl and turn off all the lights and be sad in his room alone.”

John kicks Gorgon's head with his foot. Oof. That’s why you don’t mess with John and his ridiculously long legs. “Don’t tell them my master plan, Fish. Scott won’t let me do it next year if he finds out.” Like Scott wasn’t banking on that already happening. “I don’t know what kind I like though. All of it.”

“Scotty? Sour Patch Kids?”

“Eh. I’m not big on sour.”

“Airheads?”

“Sure, those are pretty good.”

Before Alan or Gordon has a chance to move on, Virgil loudly trumps down the stairs. He’s definitely wearing some kind of boot that he wasn’t before. Gordon screeches in Scott’s ear before they see Virgil, “Virge! Favorite candy?”

“Candy corn.”

“God, it’s like you’re an old man already,” John quips.

Virgil huffs like he’s mad at the statement, but at the end of the trick-or-treating night, he’s the only one not duking it out over candy trades. Everyone gives him the candy corn and he gives everyone else free range of his bucket. Win-win. Anything that’s leftover he’ll gladly eat, but the candy corn is his top-tier, one true, candy love.

Virgil rounds the corner of the stairs. He coughs a little to grab the attention of the room.

“Pard’ner.”

“Oh my God Virge..”

“Is that… my old Stetson?”

And it is. The hat fits atop Virgil’s head a little too loosely, covering his eyes more than he intended. But it matches the rest of the cowboy ensemble that Virgil picked out at the Halloween store. He has a long faux leather jacket reaching down past his knees over a button down shirt and chaps. A green bandana is tied around his neck for easy access as a mask. On his feet are the clunky cowboy boots Grandma Tracy bought him last Christmas. All that’s missing is a bit of paint on stubble and a bottle of Jack.

Jeff nods in his approval. “A cowboy, classic.”

Virgil hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his chaps. The twelve-year-old poses a bit more for the ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’s’ of his brothers. After deeming the praise to be sufficient, Virgil takes his place on the couch next to Alan and Jeff.

John decides he’s next. “To get it over with.” His excuse fools everyone but Jeff and Scott who know he’s just as excited about getting to dress up for Halloween as the younger boys. John’s always loved Halloween and the festivities, just not the crowds of people that go along with the orchard or trick-or-treating.

He makes record time and is back down before anyone can blink. In about five seconds, he’s fully dressed and… in the same jeans and a ‘NPH Track & Field 2051’ pullover. The only thing different is the bloodstained mask to finish it off. He does no sort of show other than a dramatic hand flourish before flopping back down in the recliner, legs over one armrest.

“Clown, another classic.”

“That’s all you’re doing?”

“Nah, I have a fake machete from a few years back somewhere downstairs and Virgil’s lock to his paints is broken,” John smirks. “I’m thinking I need a bit more blood splatters to really set the mood.”

So long as he doesn’t traumatize any little kids stopping by, Jeff won’t intervene.

Gordon starts squirming until Scott lets him loose like a wind-up car. Looks like Alan’s going last after Gordon gets whatever amalgamation of costumes he’s found himself at the Halloween store. With the fish upstairs getting himself ready, the living room falls to a hush. Alan is telling Jeff what all has been going on at school leading up to the Halloween dance, and Virgil is messing with his cowboy boots.

Welp, the party certainly goes with Gordon.

It’s only around an hour before they have to leave to get the kids to the school on time. John pulls off his clown mask to breathe easier. It’s too bulky to keep on for long periods of time. That, and he can’t read his tablet with the eye holes cut so small. He flicks through a few recipes he’s found that would be easy enough to make tonight. Normal John cooking was pretty simple and familiar with a new recipe thrown in on occasion. But since their dad is home, he wants to try out something a bit more adventurous. Maybe some type of fried rice if they have the ingredients…

Scott looks half asleep on the floor. John whispers to try and get his attention with no luck. He had to wake up early to get an FFA meeting in and stayed late. And now he has to drive the littles to and from school when he should be doing homework or relaxing. John changes his supper idea to Shepard’s Pie. Scott deserves one of his favorites.

Announcing his presence makes Gordon hard to ignore. He blares a sound like a grand trumpet on the royal court. He switches off the lights from the landing switch, and turns to flickering it on like a horror movie. John lets his tablet drop onto his chest. And Scott says he never pays attention to these things. As his little brother trumps down the stairs one by painstaking one, the rest of the family cranes their necks. The first showing brings more questions than answers.

“And you are…”

Gordon untangles a thin electrical cord running from his mask, through his sleeve, and down to his hand. The world’s most horrifying recorded screech fills the air. “An Eldritch blood God named Daniel. Obviously.”

A rarity crosses over the Tracy household like a blanket.

Pure silence.

“…another classic.”

Even John loses it at that one. It’s just like their dad- their old dad- to take Gordon’s wackiness in stride with no more than a nod and simple acceptance. John’s laughter sparks back the noise of others laughing, and the endless questions shoot Gordon’s way. How the kid even came up with the idea is beyond any of them.

To be fair, Gordon’s costume is pretty amazing. He must have spent all that time in the costume shop gathering little pieces to put together. A tattered black coat covers most of his costume, but when he shifts, they can see the complete costume underneath. It’s a long robe that trails across the floor (certainly an adult size rather than a child’s). It has intricate cross stitching that shimmers gold under the living room light, along with extra stitched arms that hang down from Gordon’s armpits. Scott can only guess they came from a spider costume of some sort. Homemade blood stains and black paint are strewn about the fabric to make it all the more horrifying.

Combine that costume with a demonic mask that looks as if it’s spouting roots straight from the skin, and Gordon’s made himself an award-winning spook.

Gordon pulls his mask off for a gulp of fresh air. “I think I need some hair dye and extra makeup and a staff or something.”

“Tonight? No way.”

“Maybe for actual trick-or-treating?”

Virgil lets out a sigh. He’s always relegated to the Halloween makeup and hair dye expert. The rest of the brothers are useless when it comes to artistic anything and that’s not even being mean. That’s just stating the truth. If Gordon wanted extra makeup and hair dye tonight, well then, he simply wouldn’t. “Fine.”

Jeff nudges Alan up and out of his lap. “Come on, squirt. Yours is the last one for the night.”

Alan makes it halfway up the stairs before turning on heel and shouting back. “John! Come help!”

Virgil itches at where the leather of his coat is rubbing at his neck. “What, he gets to know first?”

“I’ve already known what Allie’s got up his sleeve,” John reveals. He follows Alan up the stairs to help him get in costume.

“Scott, do you know?”

The eldest shakes his head. He’s just as surprised as the rest of them. “I really don’t know… It’s not like John would willingly go out anywhere, even if Alan asked him. Maybe they ordered a costume?”

“Some of John’s old ones are still in storage that we never got rid of,” Jeff reminds Scott. “I bet they pulled out an old astronaut one.”

Alan’s taken to liking space like a fish to water. John’s just happy to have a little mini-me following his every venture into space tangents even if his clone is ten years younger and can’t divide. As they wait for Alan’s grand entrance, Gordon points out every detail of his own costume up close.

There’s certainly more to it than meets the eye. Virgil runs his fingers over the golden Celtic style stitching. He prays that those symbols don’t make his little brother cursed for eternity.

Gordon’s boots are two sizes too big and shoot up past his skinny knees when they should stop right below. Scott tries to place what costume they originally were supposed to go with. The closest answer he can think of is some type of pirate or buccaneer. Gordon shrugged off his mask to talk clearer. The eldest Tracy brother snags it and looks at the thick red liquid behind a plastic shield that’s controlled by the pump on Gordon’s hand. Virgil peers over his shoulder.

And here Virgil was thinking he put a lot of thought into his costume.

“Okay, close your eyes!”

Alan’s shrieking voice has Virgil dropping the mask in surprise. Beside him, Gordon jumps as well. It wakes Scott up from his dozing with a snort and vehemently denying he ever fell asleep.

“Do we have to?”

“Close ‘em!”

Scott half closes them, peaking just enough to see what Alan’s got on before the rest of them. Also so he doesn’t fall back asleep. But John knows him too well and comes down first. He covers Scott’s eyes with his own hand.

“He wants everyone to know he picked it out and made it himself with only a little help from me.”

“Sounds quite exciting, kid,” Jeff says.

John clears his throat. “Come on down Alan.”

There’s the rustling of some familiar material that Scott can’t place. His face scrunches up underneath John’s hand. His mind flips through Alan’s interests lately. Astronauts and space- that’s a given- but it doesn’t sound like ‘spacesuit’ material. Hot wheels, any cartoon with fast cars, ninjas, nothing out of the ordinary for a five-year-old boy.

“You can open them.”

They follow the orders. Scott opens his mouth, makes a sound before stopping it in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again. John is desperately trying to hold off a smile.

“It’s…”

“Umm…?”

Virgil finally squeaks out the answer. “A box?”

“Yes!”

Scott tilts his head. Maybe Alan didn’t catch his ever confused and questioning tone the first time. “A… box?”

“It's such a good costume, right?” John asks, putting a hand on top of Alan’s head. “Right? A cardboard box.”

Scott looks to Virgil who looks to Jeff who looks to John who looks down at Scott with a bit of a lip trying not to explode in amusement. John nudges Alan forward into the living room where he does a twirl to show all sides of the costume. And yup, that is a cardboard box with arm holes and a head hole cut into it.

“You get to take a box trick-or-treating, Scott. I don’t think many other high school seniors get to brag about that.”

Honestly, Scott wants to take a picture to make sure Alan remembers this year’s costume. Maybe they can hang it up at his graduation party in the future. Everyone at school knows he has little brothers so it’s not like this is a new thing.

“We’ve got the school party first, remember?” Virgil throws in.

At the reminder, both Alan and Gordon squeal in excitement. A check of the clock, and it is about time to eat supper before leaving. Jeff stands and corrals the younger ones to the kitchen to start setting the table. John and Scott share a look.

“This wasn’t our idea only to embarrass him… was it?”

John snorts. “I wish. I already had a whole photoshoot with him, at his insistence.” John wags his phone in front of Scott’s face. “Blackmail material the minute he turns old enough to be embarrassed.”

“Hell yes.”

[vivulapom]

whumpee being in distress for so long that they just stop feeling emotions. whumpees that are cold and apathetic and numb and as emotive as rock. whumpees that have retreated into the comfort of their own internal world, and it's going to be hard to get them back out. even after rescue they're still so.. still. bonus points if they were super bright and expressive pre-whumping

[sl-ut]

you should probably leave

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel is enamoured by his new neighbour, but old patterns will always be his downfall.

warnings: UNEDITED, slight age gap, slight smut, implied unprotected piv, protected piv, swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurity, angst, reader is given a birthday (she's a sag like me)

words: 10.8K (my longest fic to date)

date posted: 14/03/23

part two

(inspired by you should probably leave by chris stapleton)

OCTOBER 12, 1998

The weather was something that she was unsure if she could ever get used to. For her entire life, she had spent the entirety of the late autumn months dreading the first snowfall of the season before lugging out her extensive collection of knitted sweaters and fur-lined boots. Instead, her little archive of winter clothing was left in a cardboard box in her childhood bedroom, along with the majority of her other belongings that she had not brought with her on her grand adventure–if you could even call it that. 

The University of Texas at Austin had not been her first choice of school, or her second, or third; she actually had never even imagined going to school any further than a few hours from her hometown in Pennsylvania, and yet there she was, standing in front of her brand-new home, sweltering under the harsh Texan sun as she struggled to unload her packed car all on her own. Well, to call it her home would be a pretty tight stretch, as well as to label it as “brand-new.” 

The small bungalow-style house had caught her eye on a flyer in the grocery store, a listing for one female roommate in a cul-de-sac not too far from the city. It wasn’t exactly her dream home by any means, with an ugly yellow exterior and a kitchen that could certainly use an updating, but it she had recently been forced out of her own apartment due to her previous roommate preferring her boyfriend to live their with her instead and it was the nicest of the few places within her price range that would also accommodate the mutt she’d rescued during her first year. All things considered, it was quite literally perfect for her situation–plus her new roommate seemed to have been at least more considerate of her boundaries than the last, which gave her some hope that things might actually work out. 

Y/n grunted at the weight of the box, cursing herself internally for enrolling in school and owning so many textbooks as she lugged it up the front steps, dropping it just inside the door. She couldn’t help but grimace as she glanced up, meeting the watchful gaze of Manny, his furry little head tilting curiously–likely wondering why she was making so much ruckus and interrupting his nap. 

“Lazy ass,” she muttered under her breath at him, kicking the box to the side before trudging back out the door.

The next few boxes were filled with clothes and shoes, fortunately for her spine. She hauled several out, dropping each of them to the pavement of the driveway carelessly as she wiped at her sweaty forehead, apparently too enthralled in the work to notice the beat up truck as it turned into the neighbouring driveway.

“Hey there,” she turned to find a young man, his hair combed back to expose his effortlessly charming face to her, “You need a hand?”

She glanced down at the boxes at her feet, “I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

A young girl appeared at his side, wide eyes peering over at the older female curiously. The man shrugged, puffing out his broad chest as he moved. Y/n almost laughed at how obvious he was being, only seconds after meeting her. The man gave off the impression that he had always thought fairly highly of himself, probably the quarterback of the high school football team, maybe even involved in the armed forces–the navy, she was betting. He crossed the barrier between the two driveways in two long strides, extending his hand out to her as he came closer. 

“I’m Tommy,” he flashed her a grin, his accent coming out thicker than it probably would have normally. He glanced over his shoulder, motioning for the young girl to follow him into the neighbouring yard, “This is my niece Sarah.”

Y/n smiled politely, shaking his hand lightly, “Hi, I’m Y/n. I guess it’s nice to meet some of my new neighbours.”

“Well, Sarah, here, is your neighbour. Me, I live–”

“What happened to Stephanie?” Sarah interrupted, “I didn’t know she was moving.”

Y/n turned her attention to the young girl, “She isn’t, we’re just living together now.”

Sarah’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the gears visibly turning in her head as she formulated her next question, “Are you guys dating?”

“Sarah!” Tommy choked on his spit, “I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” Y/n chuckled at his response before turning back to the young girl, “No, we’re not. I guess she just didn’t wanna be living here all on her own anymore.”

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, the mortified expression leaving his features in favour of one that she might have even considered relief. He shook his head at his niece, giving her a hard stare, “I’m sorry about her. I figured that she would have some better manners by now–my mistake.”

Sarah swatted at him, a pout appearing on her lips as her brows furrowed. The girl didn’t quite understand how the question may have been taken with offence by some, and was quite miffed by her uncle’s insult. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Y/n affirmed, “I think it’s actually a good thing that she knows about that kinda stuff.”

Tommy glanced down at the boxes, clear discomfort appearing on his features, “Alrighty then, how about these boxes?”

Y/n gave in, offering Tommy one of the heavier of the three boxes, while shifting the smallest and lightest to the young girl, who had been adamant in helping out. She instructed them to just drop the boxes to the floor by the door, not looking to take up much more of their time. 

A loud gasp escaped Sarah, her wide eyes falling on the mutt, who had appeared to have been equally as excited to see her as he rushed over, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail flapping wildly. Sarah squealed when he barrelled into her, a fit of giggles leaving her mouth as he brought her to the ground and began to cover her face in slobbery kisses.

“Manny!” Y/n groaned, grasping the dog’s collar and pulling away enough for Sarah to sit up off of the floor, “Sorry, he’s just convinced that everyone wants to be his friend.”

“I’ll be his friend!” Sarah beamed, reaching out and squishing the dog’s face in between her palms, “I mean… Can I?”

Y/n shrugged, “As long as it’s okay with your…” She glanced at Tommy for help, unsure about Sarah’s parentage situation. He’d already made it clear that he did not live next door, but had never explicitly stated who did.

“You’ll have to ask your dad, Sarah,” He chastised her, “Anyway, we should get out of your hair now, let you settle in.”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, thank you for the help, though.”

“No problem, ma’am,” He winked, southern charm on full display as he stepped out onto the front step, “Anytime for a pretty girl like you. C’mon, Sar.”

Sarah begrudgingly offered the needy pup one more affectionate squeeze before following after her uncle, leaping off of the step and bounding across to her own front yard. Tommy paused, hand resting on the railing of the step and giving it a firm shake. His lips pursed into a line as he let out a small huh as the bannister shifted out of its place, then back in under the pressure. 

“Yeah, Steph said there were all kinds of little things wrong with the place,” Y/n noted, “But hey, if it’s got four walls and a roof, it’s good enough for me.”

He chuckled at her, shaking his head, “You know, my brother and I are contractors, we could come over and help you fix things up if you guys wanted.”

She hummed, “I’ll mention it to Steph. Wouldn’t wanna just start making changes to her house while she’s not here, would I?”

Tommy hummed, “‘Spose that’s true. Anyway, I should go see where she ran off to, but I sure hope I’ll be seeing you around.” He shot her a cheeky wink before jogging back over to the neighbouring yard, leaving her and Manny among the mess of boxes in the entryway. 

Y/n huffed, glancing around at the mess, then at the furry little beast at her feet, who waited patiently for her to begin offering him her love and attention. She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head softly, “Well, let’s just get this done, boy.”

– – –

Joel grunted as he clambered in through the side door of his home, sighing in relief as he slipped out of his heavy work boots and dropped the armload of groceries onto the kitchen counter. He could hear the TV on in the living room, drowned out by Sarah’s yell of a greeting. He rushed to put away the groceries, sticking the brown paper bags in the recycling before stepping into the dimly lit sitting area. 

Tommy was reclined on the couch, slumped into the worn leather like a pile of mashed potatoes as he balanced his can of Budweiser on his bent knee. He nodded to his brother briefly as he lifted the beer to his lips, hardly taking his eyes off of the football game on the screen as Joel plopped down next to him. The older brother leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to Sarah’s head so as to not disturb her as she worked on her homework on the coffee table in front of the couch before finally copying his brother’s position.

“The hell took you so long? You left the site the same time I did, and I had to go pick this shithead up from school,” he playfully kicked at Sarah’s leg, “plus I helped your new neighbour move in.”

“Supermarket was a zoo,” Joel moaned as he ran his palm flat over his face, then furrowed his brow, “What new neighbour?”

Tommy nodded his head back in the direction of the mustard yellow house, “Chick next door got a new roommate.”

“Uncle Tommy was flirting with her,” Sarah chimed in, not taking her eyes off of the math textbook in front of her.

Joel rolled his eyes, “Now tell me why I’m not surprised.”

Tommy shook his head, taking another large gulp of beer, “I know what you’re thinking, but this girl’s different. She’s not from ‘round here. Not sure where, but she’s got an accent. Canada, maybe.”

“You know what a Canadian accent sounds like?” Joel scoffed, knowing that his brother was prone to drawing his own conclusions. 

“Well, no,” Tommy frowned, “But I imagine it might sound like that. Doesn’t matter, I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

Joel grunted in response, turning his eyes to the game on the screen.

“She wasn’t flirting back,” Sarah grinned up at the two men, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her father’s growing smirk and giggling as his own laughter came tumbling out. Tommy kicked her again, only this time with a little more force, “What? You invited yourself over there and were all,” She puffed her chest out and deepened her voice, “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”

Joel rested a palm on his belly as he shook with laughter, his other hand landing on the top of his daughter’s head affectionately as Tommy crossed his arms, sulking. 

“I think she was flirting back,” he argued.

“She wasn’t,” Sarah reaffirmed.

Tommy leaned forward, “Now how the hell would you know anything about flirting, huh? You been doin’ a lot of it at school?”

Her face burned in embarrassment, sputtering for a response, “No, that’s gross!”

Joel frowned at her, shaking his head in feign sternness, “You better not be. Otherwise I might need to break out grandpa’s old hunting rifle.”

She didn’t utter another word, simply gathering her things in her arms and rushing off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her as the laughter of her father and uncle followed her every step.

OCTOBER 17, 1998

Just under a week had passed since he’d first caught wind of his new neighbour, and Joel had yet to even see this woman. He’d noticed the new car in the driveway, and he’d picked up on the presence of the dog fairly quickly, especially after he’d caught Sarah tossing some of the vegetables from her dinner over the fence for him. Joel hadn’t paid it much mind, he was far too busy to be concerned with some young girl who didn’t seem to be causing much issues. 

He’d had words with Stephanie several times in the past; once for blatantly smoking pot on 

her front step when they were heading out for the day, then for leaving her garbage bin too close to his driveway, causing him to back into it and scratch the paint on his truck, and then once more when she’d had a little get together that ended up lasting until 4am, when the police arrived. He would normally have called himself a narc for having the party shut down, but it was keeping Sarah awake and the door had been shut in his face when he went over to ask politely. 

The day had been long, and normally he would have refused Tommy’s invitation to head over to one of the local dive bars, but after dealing with the shit-show that had gone on at the job site that day, he really needed a drink. Sarah was out of the house, anyway, having slept over at a friend’s house, so there was quite literally nothing keeping him away.

“Brother’s night, my ass,” Joel grumbled into his glass, glancing over to the corner booth, where his brother had joined a pretty brunette, leaving Joel to himself at the barside. He waved at the bartender, motioning for another top-up of his whiskey. 

A figure appeared at his side, leaning onto the bartop to call out to the bartender. Joel glanced over, his eyes raking over her radiant side profile in awe. He shot his gaze back to the glass of amber liquid in front of him, then briefly over to the girl once more. His eyes narrowed in on her pursed lips, noting how her brows furrowed in frustration as the bartender migrated to the other side of the bar. She turned to him suddenly, and Joel whipped his head back around to ensure that he wouldn’t appear to be some creep–though he was positive he certainly had been.

“Is it always like this here?” She asked him, tilting her head. “I swear, I’ve gone to three different spots along this bar, and buddy keeps looking in the other direction.”

He cleared his throat, ���You not from around here?”

She smiled sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Joel chuckled, “Just a little. You gotta get his attention, be firm. Here,” he tucked his index finger and thumb into his mouth and let out a loud whistle, nodding at the bartender as he rushed over. 

“Two vodka crans, please,” The girl smiled prettily at the bartender, then scoffed as he turned to begin pouring the drinks, “Shit, I guess I could stand to learn a thing or two.”

“It comes with time,” He frowned, realising that he may have implied that he was at the bar every other night, “I mean, not that I’m–”

She touched his arm softly, electricity running through her fingertips and into his bicep, “Hey, I’m not here to judge you if you’re not here to judge me, heh?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak once more when another figure appeared at her side. His smile dropped, taking in the sight of his next door neighbour, probably one of the last people he wanted to see on his night off.

“What the fuck is taking you so long–oh,” Stephanie narrowed her eyes at the older man, who simply turned and took another long swig of his whiskey, “Hello, Joel.”

“Stephanie,” he drawled, “How you doin’ tonight?”

She smirked at him maliciously, “Fine. Y/n, this is the guy I was telling you about.”

Oh, this is Y/n, he thought to himself, suddenly understanding Tommy’s instant interest in the girl. 

“All good things, I hope,” he sighed into his glass.

She shook her head, “Oh, just that you’re the neighbour from hell, and that you’re a narc.”

Y/n tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, visibly uncomfortable at the confrontation. His eyes fell to her mouth at the movement, wondering what it might feel like to take that same lip in between his own teeth. 

“You keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Steph,” he huffed, praying to any god that would listen that she hadn’t completely turned Y/n against him.

Stephanie sneered at him, grasping one of the drinks from the bartop and stomping off, leaving a thick tension over the remaining two. Joel met Y/n’s gaze once again, noting the visible embarrassment on her face as she began to laugh slowly.

“Sorry about her,” She laughed nervously, “For the record, I know that she’s a little dramatic.”

“‘T’s fine,” Joel grumbled, swallowing the last gulp of whiskey, “You ain’t gotta apologise for her, she can feel however she wants about me.”

Y/n chuckled, a genuine one this time and Joel couldn’t help but carve the melodious sound into his memory, “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He nodded, accepting the soft handshake that she offered, “So I’ve heard.” He noticed the slight furrow of her brow before he clarified, “I’m Sarah’s dad.”

Realisation crossed her face, “Oh, Sarah! She’s a real sweetheart.”

“Yeah, she is,” he smiled softly at the complement, “She sure likes you, and I’m assuming that it’s your pup that I’ve caught her feeding her broccoli to?”

Y/n giggled at him, “Huh, I’d noticed that he was especially gassy lately. Here I was thinking it was something in the water.”

Joel let out a loud laugh, then realised that he had not actually introduced himself, “Shit. Sorry, I just–” he coughed, “I’m Joel.”

“So I’ve heard.” She repeated to him, clearing her throat before turning to gaze at him through her lashes with a soft smile, “So Joel, is this seat taken?”

– – –

Y/n had not expected to have enjoyed herself quite so much when Stephanie forced her to go to the grubby little saloon, feeling incredibly out of place among all of the southerners. She had been hesitant to leave Manny on his own so soon after moving in, but the last thing that she had wanted to do was get on Stephanie’s bad side so early on. Then, she’d stumbled upon the devastatingly handsome man sitting all on his own at the bar, and her tune changed drastically. 

She sat on that stool for the better part of two hours after Stephanie had fucked off, leaving them to become acquainted with one another. Joel had offered her another drink, which she accepted under the terms that she would buy the next round, and against his better judgement, he found himself doing a shot of tequila with her as well. She smirked to herself when she took note of the flush that had crawled into his cheeks, and how cheerful his dark chocolate eyes looked under the dim lighting of the bar. 

Y/n had noticed Tommy in the corner booth, and how he had been blatantly pressing his southern charm onto the brunette under his arm in the very same way that he had to her, which made her feel much better knowing that he couldn’t possibly be that upset about her doing the exact same to his brother. 

Her hand had come to rest on his knee, leaning across to invade his personal space animatedly as she spoke, her own cheeks flushing each time that he grinned or laughed at her words, and she had lost count of the amount of times that she had rubbed her thighs together or considered smashing her lips to his. 

Tommy appeared at his side, clutching his shoulder in his firm grasp, “Hey Joel, you think you’re ready–oh, hey, Y/n.” His cheeks had turned red, one hand self-consciously rising to rub at his cheek, where the stark red lipstick stain had once acted as a trophy and was now an admission of guilt. Tommy pursed his lips, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

She shrugged, “Steph forced me out.”

He nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to save himself in this situation. 

Y/n turned her head, catching sight of her roommate’s drunken attempt to seduce the bouncer before turning her attention back to the older of the two brothers, squeezing his knee once before sliding off of the stool, “Speaking of, I should probably leave, she’s gonna get us banned from here any minute now. It’s been nice, talking to you, Joel. See you, Tommy.”

Both men watched as she disappeared into the crowd, eyes trailing after her figure longingly.

Tommy huffed, “You think I still got a chance?”

Joel’s shoulders shook in a drunken fit of giggles, lifting his own hand to proudly show off the nine digits that had been marked into his skin, “Nope.”

Tommy’s jaw dropped, clear disappointment on his features before it was quickly replaced by pride, “Well fuck, brother. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

OCTOBER 31, 1998

Y/n wiped at the sweat on her brow, breathing picking up in delight as she turned the corner and the blinding yellow house came into sight. The sun had already begun to set by the time that she and Manny had set out on their evening walk, now settling low on the horizon and casting a golden hue to the world below it as Manny tugged on his leash, obviously also desperate to escape the heat. 

A loud honk sounded from behind her, muffled slightly by the music playing over her bulky headphones, drawing her attention to the dark pickup truck as it sped past, Sarah hanging out the back window with a grin on her face as she waved dramatically. Y/n chuckled at the young girl, allowing Manny to lead her into a faster pace as they grew closer to their house.

She slid the headphones down to rest around her neck, pressing pause on her walkman as Sarah rushed towards them. The girl paid very little mind to the woman holding the leash, instead dropping to her knees and reaching out for the excited dog’s face, laughing as he began to lick enthusiastically at her cheek. 

“Hi,” her gaze rose to find Joel as he rounded the bed of the truck, hand resting on the top of the tailgate as he tried his best to look casual, “sorry, this one never shuts up about that dog.”

Y/n smiled at him, warmth flooding through her cheeks. She’d only actually spoken to Joel a handful of times since that night at the bar, mostly simple greetings while Sarah occupied herself with Manny. Joel was too awkward of a person to try anything with Sarah present, and Y/n was too compassionate to question him about why he hadn’t bothered to call yet in front of his daughter. 

Y/n shrugged, “To be fair, he never shuts up about her, either.”

“Oh did he tell you that?” The man asked, brows raised playfully, “I didn’t know you spoke dog.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me yet, Joel,” She smirked at him, “Oh, happy Halloween, by the way.”

“Right,” Joel raised one hand to stroke his hairy chin, “Yeah, you too.”

Sarah glanced up from Manny’s pleading brown eyes, “Dad forgot.

Joel sent a sharp glare to his daughter, then smiled sheepishly at her, “Not too concerned about a holiday that’s got nothing to do with me, anyway–this one decided she’s too cool for trick-or-treating with dad this year.”

“Oh don’t feel too discouraged, I gave my dad the boot when I was even younger.”

“See?” Sarah pressed, glancing back at her father, “You don’t even like Halloween, I don’t get why you’re mad.”

Y/n widened her eyes and clutched her chest dramatically, “What do you mean, you don’t like Halloween? It’s like, one of the best holidays!”

Joel rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t tell me you’re one of those people.”

She pursed her lips, “And just when I was starting to like you, Miller.”

His eyes met hers, curiosity pooling into the dark mocha irises as he considered her words. He almost appeared apologetic; could he feel guilty about not calling her? Y/n did her best to not appear too shaken by his lack of contact–she hadn’t expected anything from him the next day, but after two weeks and still no call? She’d taken that as a sign that he’d been a tad too drunk when he had been so shamelessly flirting with her, and that he had no intentions of ever pursuing anything. 

Y/n was thankful when Sarah interrupted the pair, preventing her from spiralling into a nervous breakdown from her own inner monologue, “What are you dressing up as?”

The woman shook her head with a mischievous smirk on her lips, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see when you come knocking at my door, huh?”

“No big plans?” Joel tilted his head, “I figured that roommate of yours would have you out on the town.”

She shrugged, “Steph’s out of town. Something about the drinks and the guys being stronger. Looks like it’s just gonna be me and my little guy here,” she gently clapped a hand against Manny’s side, “Well, us and a selection of horror movies.”

Sarah stood up, leaning into her dad’s side with her elbow, “How convenient, my dad will also be home alone tonight.”

Joel dropped his head in embarrassment–just leave it to Sarah to blatantly play the role of her father’s wingwoman. He refused to meet Y/n’s amused gaze, ears burning as Sarah continued.

“And he totally loves horror movies. He watches them all the time.”

“Oh really?” Y/n did her best not to burst out laughing, enjoying the sight of both Joel’s embarrassment and how confidently Sarah was trying to talk up her own father. She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to not make it too obvious how much she actually wanted to invite him to join her, but she didn’t want to display too much interest in him if he genuinely had none in her, “Well then maybe he should head to Blockbuster before all of the good ones are rented.” 

She raised her brow at him, signalling to him that it was his turn to make a move, as she would not be making any more. He nodded at her, red flooding his cheeks as he tried to muster up the courage to discuss the clear tension between them. 

Y/n smiled politely at them both, then glanced down at the heavily panting dog at her feet, “Well, I better get this guy out of this heat. See you guys in a bit, then?” She led the dog past them, glancing back over her shoulder, her lips pursed as she watched Sarah poke at her father’s side sharply. 

The young girl smirked at her dad knowingly, remaining silent, though the expression on her face made her thoughts very clear to the man. She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “Christina’s sister is so right; all boys are stupid.”

The man scowled at his daughter, watching in silence as she moved around him without another word, disappearing through the front door without so much as another glance. Joel scoffed, shaking his head at her, and wondering how the hell his nine year old could be so goddamn right about the situation. 

– – –

Joel wiped his hands anxiously across the expanse of his thighs, attempting to rid himself of the nervous sweat that had collected in his palms as he stood on Y/n’s front step, mustering up the courage to finally knock. 

“The fuck am I doing,” He cursed to himself, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his face. 

Y/n was younger than him; not by a lot, but they were still in very different stages of their lives. He wasn’t willing to admit that he genuinely did like her, and considering that she was still a young woman and still in college, he wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for with him. Was it just some quick fuck that she wanted? Joel wouldn’t be opposed–hell, he was ashamed that he’d imagined such a thing more than a few times since meeting her–but he wasn’t sure if he could jump into bed with her and then move on with his life, nor could he expect her to be willing to just pick up the role of step-mother to his little girl. 

Joel had woken up on October 17, hungover as hell and struggling to recall any of his memories from the night before. He’d forced himself out of bed much earlier than he would have liked, needing to pick Sarah up before her soccer game. The man had stumbled his way into the shower, blindly going through the motions of bathing himself as the warm water slowly began to remove the fog from his mind. It was then, as he had reached out for his bottle of body wash that he noticed the smudge of blue ink on his skin, and then jumping in surprise at the memory of the beautiful woman who had given him her phone number–the woman who had him laughing like he hadn’t in so long and blushing harder than he thought possible–the woman who he hoped was now lying peacefully in her bed next door, preferably all on her own. 

The few times that he had seen her since then, he had thought about apologising for not calling and telling her the truth of what had happened, despite his embarrassment. He wanted to ask for it again, but every time, Sarah was there, making a fuss over the little pooch that never seemed to leave Y/n’s side. He wished that he were more confident in himself, more willing to speak to other women even if his daughter was there, but he simply would never be able to look at the young girl again if Y/n were to reject him. 

“Shit,” He swore loudly as he turned to rush off of the step, instead booting one of the carefully carved jack-o-lanterns onto the pavement of the driveway and watching in horror as it shattered on impact. 

“Joel?” He froze at the sound of the door creaking open behind him, smiling bashfully at the young woman as he did his best to not appear too guilty. Her eyes fell from his flushed face to the mess of orange at his feet, a surprised chuckle leaving her lips, “Damn, you really do hate Halloween, huh? Enough to come over here and start destroying my decorations, anyway.”

He sputtered for an answer, “I–it was an accident, I just knocked it off by accident on my way out–”

“Your way out?” She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorframe, “So what, you were just loitering on my front step?”

He scoffed at her, “I was actually on my way to apologise, but if you’d rather I just get lost…”

Y/n raised a brow inquisitively, “I’m listening.”

“I just–I’m sorry for not calling,” Joel admitted with a sigh, debating whether or not it would be best to explain exactly why, “For what it’s worth, I would have if I hadn’t washed it off by accident.”

An amused expression crossed her features as she mulled over his explanation, “You…washed it off?”

He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “I did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were trying to decipher whether or not he was being truthful, “Okay.”

His gaze shifted from side to side, uncertain as to what she meant, “Okay?”

“Okay,” She affirmed, “So what time did you wanna come over tonight?”

Joel swallowed the lump in his throat, “Tonight?”

Y/n shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the butterflies that slammed at the lining of her stomach and threatened to erupt, “Tonight. You said it yourself, Sarah’s gonna be gone all night, so would  you rather be home alone or come over? Otherwise, I’ll just be here by myself, scared and in need of a devastatingly handsome cowboy to protect me from Michael Myers.”

Blush spread across his cheeks, his hands coming up to rest on his hips, “I don’t know about ‘devastatingly handsome’, but I think I could handle some asshole in a mask.”

She grinned at him wickedly, “That’s what everyone thinks, but I guess we’ll see tonight, around eight?”

“Eight.” He confirmed, then glanced down at the mess at his feet, “And sorry about your pumpkin.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n smirked, “You’ll just have to work extra hard to make it up to me.”

– – –

Joel anxiously adjusted his shirt, frowning at himself in the window of her front door. Despite dismissing Sarah’s teasing by claiming that this was in fact, not a date, he’d taken her advice in showering the moment that he had gotten into the house. 

He was aware that she was flirting with him, but until he had gotten out of the shower, towel sitting low around his waist as he wiped the steam away from the mirror and took in his shaggy appearance, he had not been at all concerned about what activities the night might lead to. Staring at his own reflection, nervousness quickly began to settle into his bones.

He had made quick work with the clipper, shortening the length of his facial hair after several weeks of negligence and leaving his lower face to be covered by a light stubble. He put a little more effort into his hair than usual, running a thin layer of gel through it while noting to himself that it was probably time for a haircut. He even took things a step further, dabbing a few drops of some woodsy cologne onto his skin; the bottle had gone untouched for two years, having been a Christmas present from his mother.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Sarah asked as she appeared at his side, face painted to resemble a circus clown, “I knew this was a date.”

“It’s not a date,” He argued, doing his best not to jump in fright at her appearance, “Shouldn’t you be out on the town by now, Ronald McDonald?”

“You showered, put on cologne, and you’re bringing candy? It’s a date.” Sarah listed, “And I’m Pennywise, by the way. Christina’s sister is coming to pick me up soon. She says that guys always dress up when she goes out with them because they want her–”

Joel grunted, glaring at his daughter, “I want you to stop hanging around Christina’s sister.”

Sarah ignored his comment, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Joel glanced down at his outfit–a clean pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that he’d probably gotten out of a beer box or something, “What’s wrong with this?”

“What’s right with it?” 

Joel considered his parenting style for a moment, wondering if he would be free of this headache if he had spanked his daughter once or twice in her life. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was only nine years old with how intelligent she was and how much more mature she seemed in comparison to other kids her age. 

“It’s not a date, Sarah.”

She rolled her eyes, “It could be. Come on.”

Sarah rushed past him, leading him into his own bedroom as she began to dig through his closet. She frowned with almost every piece that she picked out, tossing them behind her recklessly and ignoring her father’s scolding for the mess that she had quickly created. 

“Hah!” The girl pulled out an egg-plant button down and shoved it into his grasp, “I knew you had to have something that wasn’t that ugly.”

He grunted at her, but didn’t reply out of respect for her brutal honesty as he quickly shed himself of the worn t-shirt he’d previously been wearing in favour of the one that Sarah had chosen. Now, as he stood at her front door and internally decided for himself that this was a date, he couldn’t help but thank God for his daughter’s awareness.

Finally, after tugging at the hem of his shirt, he raised a fist and knocked heavily on the door. Joel choked on his own saliva when she appeared in the window, smiling sweetly at him when she pulled the door open. She had already changed into a pair of black yoga pants and a sky blue shirt that exposed just a tasteful amount of her midriff. 

“Hi, again,” she breathed, a smile forming on her face, “You look nice, purple is definitely your colour.”

Joel burned, “I–thank you. Sarah picked it out.”

Y/n turned to the girl, who had already ushered the dog up onto the sofa with her, “Well she has a clear eye for style.”

“She definitely thinks so, that girl damn near harrasses me about my clothes everyday.” Y/n laughed out loud, Joel’s ears tingling at the melodious sound, “You look great, too.”

Y/n beamed down at her outfit, shrugging to herself, “Thanks, I thought about keeping my costume on but I wasn’t entirely sure how much you would be into Strawberry Shortcake.”

Joel chuckled at her, glancing down at the object in his hand, “I brought beer, by the way. Wasn’t sure if I should bring anything, or if you even like–”

Y/n reached out, snatching the six pack from his grasp, “Ever the gentleman, cowboy. So, you coming in?”

– – –

The house was filled with laughter, both having nearly finished their first beer as they shared stories freely. Halloween played quietly in the background, though neither of them paid too much attention. Y/n did her best not to physically melt when she felt Joel’s arm drape across the back of the sofa behind her, resisting the urge to tease him for attempting to cover it up by faking a dramatic yawn. 

She brushed her fingers along the top of his thigh, smirking to herself as she watched his leg slowly shift closer to her, though he didn’t address the affectionate touch. He spoke to her softly, and made an effort to hold eye contact with her as he did to–she was starting to feel some guilt about the conclusion that he’d drawn about him after he’d failed to call her. Her own gaze continuously fell to his lips as he spoke, and she was sure that he had noticed by the way that his lips began to curl confidently. Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering how much longer she would need to wait before he finally made a move.

Joel, however, was wondering exactly how he possibly could make a move. While feeling confident around her, there was no way to escape the fact that he hadn’t been on a date in at least a year, and he could count the amount of women he’d slept with since Sarah’s mother on one hand. At various points throughout the night, he had considered leaning in to kiss her, but had successfully siked himself out each time. The first time, he’d been interrupted by the pooch who had been jealous of his owner’s attention being focused elsewhere, though he could only blame every other time on his own insecurity.

“Do you want another beer?” Y/n asked as he swallowed the last gulp out of his can, “Or I have wine and pop?”

“Pop,” he scoffed, chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

She raised her hand and slapped his pec as she stood up from the couch, “Fine, you don’t get anything.”

He laughed, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen and shamelessly admiring the shape of her backside in the darkness of the dimly lit living room. He sat there for a few moments, staring at the movie in discontent, sighing as he ran his hand over his face and murmured a nearly silent fuck it, and following after her. 

“Is it too late to apologise and get that beer?” 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking as she shrugged coyly as she turned and leaned her back against the front of the refrigerator and holding the perspiring can out in front of her, “You’ll have to come get it yourself.”

Joel crossed the small room in two long strides, stopping as the can met his chest, though he paid it little mind as she stepped away from the fridge, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. He froze for a second, stomach clenching at the soft touch. 

“Sorry,” Y/n whispered, though her tone betrayed how unapologetic she truly was, “Was that okay?”

He didn’t respond, quickly taking the beer out of her grasp and tossing it onto the counter as he cupped her face, capturing her lips with his and pressing her back against the fridge once more. She smiled against his lips, fingers bunching in the material of his plum coloured shirt and tugging him even closer. 

His lips were chapped against her own, the telltale sign of a busy man who hadn’t been too concerned with his physical appearance up until now, though she could not picture another kiss that she had received in the last several years that would even compare to Joel’s. 

One of his hands fell, fingers splaying around her waist as he pressed even closer, parting his lips as he felt the tip of her tongue prod at the seam and allowing her to seek out his own. He moaned at her taste, fingers wandering to her hip and hesitating, almost as if he had been asking for her permission to move even lower. She grasped his hand, guiding it around to cup her bottom.

Pulling away for air, she giggled softly and fluttered her eyelids open to find him already staring at her with blown pupils. One of her hands slid up his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt before her fingers trailed over his patchy beard affectionately, “I don’t know if this is too soon, but do you wanna move to my bedroom?”

Joel chuckled at her, squeezing her cheek through her yoga pants, “Lead the way.”

– – –

Joel worried that he might have gone into cardiac arrest as he struggled to catch his breath, back slouched against the headboard as Y/n slumped flush against his chest. The cotton sheets pooled around her hips as she continued to move softly, working them both through the aftershocks of their climaxes. The man sighed in appreciation as her lips continued to slide against his jawline and leave gentle kisses in their wake, her fingers still lost in his dark curls.

Joel’s own hands squeezed her hips as she finally slowed to a stop, helping her slide off of him and smirking to himself at the whine she let out at the loss of contact. She shifted, moving out of his lap and curling into the cool sheets on the bed next to him.

“How was that?” He panted, “Have I done enough to make up for lost time?”

She grinned at him, her own chest rising and falling with her slowing breaths, “I think I recall doing most of the work, actually.”

“Bein’ on top doesn’t mean you were doing any work, sweetheart, I think we both know that.” His eyes fell on the digital alarm clock on her bedside table, grunting to himself as he took note of the late hour, “Shit–how the hell is it ten-thirty already?”

She glanced over to the clock briefly, then back at him, “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Staring down at her nude form, guilt began to eat away at him as he began to slide off of the mattress and begin gathering his clothes that had been scattered around the room. 

“Are you leaving?” His back was turned to her as he pulled on his jeans, though he could only imagine the look on her face from the emotion that dripped from her voice; she was disappointed, facing the reality that she would be abandoned after doing something so intimate. 

“I mean…” Joel coughed, “Yeah, I should probably leave. Gotta work early tomorrow, and Sarah’s got soccer practice, and–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest in an attempt to regain her modesty, “I get it.”

Joel couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d done this. She seemed disheartened, but not entirely surprised at his decision to head out, as if she was expecting this time to be different from the others–as if she was expecting Joel to be any different from the other shitty guys she’d met since moving to Austin.

“Darlin’,” Joel cooed, coming to sit at the edge of the mattress and cupping her face in his large palms, “It’s not like that. I want nothing more than to stay the night, but I know that I won’t sleep a wink tonight if I do.” His thumb stroked her bottom lip as her mouth slanted into a small, saddened smile. He leaned in, pressing three kisses to her lips, each one longer than the last before pulling back, “Can I get your number? I promise I won’t ask for a third time.”

Y/n smiled at him, kissing him once more before snatching a pen off of the bedside table and scribbling on his hand, “You won’t get it if you ask for a third time, Miller.”

MARCH 12, 1999

Y/n sighed blissfully, gnawing at her lip to prevent any moans of pleasure as Joel worked himself into her over and over, his hips meeting hers with slow, meaningful movements as he did his best to keep both of them quiet. Joel wasn’t normally one for booty calls, though he had hardly seen her in the past few days and couldn’t resist when his mind had wandered while in the shower–and for the first time in what felt like decades, he could rely on the help of soft, feminine touches rather than his own fast and rough tugs. 

Her thighs shook, teeth biting into the pillow beneath her face as she pressed her hips back against him and arched her spine in pleasure. She met his thrusts enthusiastically, fingers winding into the sheets tightly. 

“Shit,” She gasped, “Joel, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” He rasped, “Shhh baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

She didn’t hold back, allowing the white hot pleasure to run through her veins, muffling her cries in the plushness of the pillow. Her walls clenched around him, gripping him for everything that she could manage as he fucked her through it, head rolled back in pleasure as his own orgasm teetered over the edge. His fingers tightened around her hips, hauling her back against him a few more times before his seed painted the inside of the condom. 

His hands slid up from her hips, one pressing on her back to force her to lay flat against the mattress while the other cupped the soft flesh of her belly to roll her over. Joel took in her figure, eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort before dropping to her breasts; the man was absolutely entranced by the shape of her breasts, eagerly pawing at them during makeout sessions and suckling at them with the utmost love and desire as he fucked her. She smiled at him tiredly, hooded eyes admiring his own figure as he slipped out of her, sliding off of the bed and disappearing into the ensuite. 

When he returned, he wore a pair of black boxers and carried a maroon washcloth in his hand, carefully parting her legs and sliding the cloth through her folds, puffy and sore from his touch. He whispered an entirely disingenuous apology as he pressed lightly against her abused clit, chuckling to himself as she jumped. Tossing the cloth aside, he settled into the mattress next to her, sliding an arm around her waist and tugging her into his side, sighing in relief at the physical contact. 

The rising sun had slowly begun to peek through the blinds, filling the room with a soft glow in the aftermath of the third round. Y/n glanced at the clock on the far wall, sighing to herself as reality settled into her bones. She hadn’t intended on staying so long, especially after how eagerly the both of them had initiated the first round, having allowed herself to remain at his side until she felt his member begin to grow against her thigh once more. Now, after taking him inside of her three times over the past six hours, she knew that she would eventually need to get up and leave–a habit that they both had and hated when they were finished. 

She pressed careful kisses into his flesh, lips moulding to the sweaty skin of his shoulder and neck affectionately while her palm rubbed circles into his firm chest. Joel nuzzled his head into her hair, his own lips pressing to the crown of her head as he, too, appreciated the afterglow. 

Y/n’s body and heart screamed at her as she finally pulled herself away from him, hopping out of the bed and collecting her clothing from the floor. Joel watched her with sunken eyes, his attempt to remain stoic as he easily recognised what she was doing proving fruitless.

“You don’t–you don’t gotta go just yet,” he called to her, desperation lacing his voice, “Don’t gotta be at the site till eleven tomorrow–”

“Today,” she corrected, “And that’s in seven hours. Besides, I don’t wanna fall asleep and risk having to run into Sarah. I should probably leave.” 

He nodded slowly, continuing to watch her as she dressed and fixed her appearance, preparing herself mentally and physically for her four A.M. walk of shame. Joel wanted to call her back to bed again, to convince her to stay with him and promise breakfast in the morning, but instead watched helplessly as she disappeared into the dark hallway, and closed his eyes disappointedly at the sound of the front door closing behind her.

JUNE 2, 1999

Golden rays of sun peeked through the blinds, trailing up the length of the bed with each passing moment before finally gracing over the soft skin of the woman next to him. Joel laid in his bed as still as possible, one arm around her shoulders to keep her flush against his chest, savouring the intimate, domestic moment before it would eventually come to an end–it always did.

The alarm clock flashed the time tauntingly at him, as if mocking him for wanting to keep her there for much longer than he knew he could. This was undoubtedly the latest she had stayed in his bed; it was nearing six A.M. and she had yet to stir from her deep slumber. 

His eyes trailed the length of her bare back, his fingers pressing gently at the indent of her spine as he pushed her body impossibly closer to her and bathing himself in the feeling of her nude body against his own. Joel resisted the urge to shake the growing ache out of his leg as pins and needles crawled up the length of his limb, too afraid to move and wake her–he knew what would come once her eyes had opened, as she had done it countless times now. 

It was the twitch of her fingers against the soft flesh of his belly that alerted him to her growing consciousness, nails following the pattern of hair that covered his abdomen softly, drawing a quiet moan of delight from the man beneath her. He felt the curve of her lips against his shoulder, turning his head to meet her eyes as they fluttered open.

“Morning, cowboy,” Her throat was dry and her voice was scratchy, but her words still held the power of causing an eruption of butterflies in his gut. 

“Morning,” He leaned closer, the tips of his nose brushing her own before she swatted him away, covering her mouth self-consciously and mumbling something about morning breath. Joel chuckled at her, moving her hand away and planting a soft, closed-mouth kiss against her lips. 

Her smile grew, hazy vision flickering around the sun-lit bedroom as realisation dawned on her, “What time is it?”

Joel’s own smile faltered as he cleared his throat, glancing over at the alarm clock again, “Five-to-six.”

“Shit,” She groaned, a hand settling on her forehead, “I should probably leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

Joel shook his head at her, “You ain’t got nothing to apologise for. I like having you here.”

She pecked his lips again, fondness creeping through her at the man’s admission, “I like being here. But I should go before Sarah wakes up.”

Joel caught her arm as she moved to crawl out of the bed, “Stay.”

“What?”

“Sarah knows you’ve been coming around and leaving early in the morning.” He told her, thumb smoothing circles against her wrist, “She says she’s happy for me, but she said that she won’t approve until you start bringing that damn dog of yours over here when you come.”

Y/n chuckled, her eyes growing a thin red rim along her waterline, “What are you saying?”

“I’m asking you to stay. Every damn night you spend here, you go rushing out like this is just a quick fuck, but I think we both know that it’s a lot more than that. Just come back to bed, please.”

Y/n shook her head at him, glancing over at the rising sun through the blinds in contemplation before she finally shrugged, crawling back into the bed and settling against his naked form with a sigh, her hand resting on his chest as she massaged small circles into his sweaty flesh. Both of them relaxed into one another, enjoying the silence of the early morning and dreading the unavoidable fate of the alarm going off in the coming hour.

NOVEMBER 27, 1999

Y/n tapped her nails against the hardwood of the tabletop rhythmically, doing her best not to make her dissociation too clear as her friends and family chattered back and forth. Her mother was busy on her left hand side, sharing dozens of her favourite childhood photographs to Y/n’s friends with a fondness that only a mother could have, while the seat to her left was empty. The watch that she’d received as a gift from her parents sat on her wrist, the time ticking away as grief settled in her stomach, the realisation that he simply wasn’t coming eating away at her pride.

Her birthday was not something that she generally liked to celebrate, but knowing that her parents, siblings, and a few members of her extended family had orchestrated a trip to visit and celebrate with her had her counting down the days, especially after she had convinced her unofficial boyfriend to join them for dinner at one of the nicest wallet-friendly restaurants in Austin. Now, as she sat silently and watched as her friends laughed and cooed over possibly the most embarrassing photos of her while picking at their slices of birthday cake, her mind only wandered to where exactly he was, and how much more fun she would be having if she were warding him off of any of those photographs–especially all of the ones from her junior high years. 

She hadn’t had the chance to speak to him at all that day, having woken up after he had already left for work and dropped Sarah off at school. At the time, Y/n had smiled to herself, thanking him mentally for allowing her to sleep in on her birthday, though she was beginning to wonder if she should have taken the lack of birthday wishes as a sign. 

She actively avoided Stephanie’s gaze, wanting to escape the oncoming I told you so, and made as little eye contact as possible with her mother, who watched her sympathetically, and her father, who silently raged over the presence of the empty chair. Y/n now felt embarrassed over how much she’d actually gushed over the man to her family before dinner, wondering if maybe she was more invested in him than he was in her. After all, he had yet to officially ask her to be his girlfriend, despite the fact that she and Manny had taken up residence in his home at least four nights a week and that she had been included in more recent movie nights with him and Sarah. 

Maybe she was reading into it too much–something must have happened. Something happened to Sarah, or maybe Tommy had been locked up again. There was no way that Joel had forgotten her birthday, there was simply no way.

– – –

Joel’s feet ached, crying out in pain with every step and sighing in relief as he finally kicked off his heavy boots. The crew that he’d brought on for his most recent and highest paying job to date had given him hell that day, leaving him aching for nothing more than a hot shower and a peaceful night at home with his best girls. He hated having to tack on extra hours to his day, but not arriving home until after ten was something that he would have to deal with in order to finish the job, and he was hoping to save up to take Y/n and Sarah on a little getaway for a weekend in the near future. 

The kitchen was dim when he stepped in, and he was somewhat surprised when he discovered no plate of food left for him in the microwave, nor was there a pan of leftovers in the fridge. Instead, there was a single empty carton of a microwavable dinner on the counter along with an empty can of Pepsi. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he shrugged it off, though he had grown accustomed to Y/n bringing dinner over and making sure that it was ready for him on days that he worked late. 

Soft footsteps rushed down the stairs, Sarah rounding the corner with a wide grin on her face as she held a small piece of paper in her hands. 

“Hey babygirl,” Joel kissed her head softly as he moved into the living room, even more confused when he did not find Y/n curled up on the couch with a stack of her textbooks, as she so often did while waiting for him to return. 

“Hi dad,” Sarah’s smile dropped, glancing back into the entryway in confusion, “Where’s Y/n? I made this card at school today but I figured I’d wait until after you guys came back to give it to her.”

The blood in Joel’s veins ran cold, his heart skipping a beat at the sudden realisation of why his house appeared to be so void of his girlfriend, “Fuck.”

“Dad?” Sarah’s wide eyes narrowed, all too used to her father’s undiagnosed case of short-term memory loss, though he had never ever forgotten something like this before.

“Shit,” He swore again, snatching his keys off of the counter and rushing to jam his feet back into his uncomfortable boots, “Sarah, go to bed. I’ll be back later tonight.”

The girl watched helplessly as her father raced out the door, tears welling in her eyes as she stared down at the happy picture she had pasted into the card and frowning as she feared the worst.

– – –

Joel arrived at the restaurant just before eleven. He knew it was a long shot, as the reservation was for seven-thirty, which he had purposefully written down and stuck to the fridge so that he would not forget. The few remaining staff inside shook their heads in pity at the man, quickly coming to understand his situation as he rushed inside, asking about the reservation with a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. 

His shoulders slumped as he parked in his driveway, trudging across the lawn into the neighbouring yard and knocking firmly on the door. He waited a few moments, cursing quietly as he got no response and knocking again. 

His frown deepened when the door swung open, a fuming Stephanie standing in his way. Her face burned scarlet, fists clenched at her side as she took in Joel’s pitiful appearance. She took a step forward, joining Joel on the front step and closing the door behind her. 

“The fuck do you want?” 

“Where’s Y/n?” He asked, ignoring her bluntness.

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” the girl sneered at him. “It’s one thing to stand someone up, even to forget their birthday, but to embarrass her like that in front of her family?” She scoffed, “you know, I warned her about you, but I took no pleasure in being right. You should have seen her tonight, barely spoke at all.”

The metaphorical knife in Joel’s gut twisted at her words, the fist clenching the bouquet tightening even further around the stems. He could picture her; all dolled up, chatting with her family as she eagerly awaited his arrival, her pretty smile dampening as time passed and eventual tears in her eyes as she realised the truth–he had forgotten about her. 

“Just let me talk to her,” he begged, “Please.”

Stephanie shook her head, “I think it’s best if you never show your face on my property again, Miller.”

“Joel?” Both of their eyes turned at the sound of Y/n’s voice, finding her peeking around the door curiously. “Steph, can you give us a minute?”

The woman sent Joel one final glare, patting her roommate on the shoulder before slipping back into the house. 

If the knowledge of what he’d done hadn’t been enough, Y/n’s appearance was the final blow to his gut. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks swollen and marked with visible remnants of tears. She wrung her fingers together anxiously, keeping her gaze lowered in shame as she closed the door behind her and turned to face him.

“Baby–” 

“Don’t.” Y/n interrupted, “Just explain.”

He sniffled, “I can’t explain it, or excuse it. We got held up at work, and I really need this job to be done and over with already. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She shook her head, lifting her sleeve to wipe at the underside of her nose, “You didn’t even say goodbye before you left this morning. Did you even remember at all?”

Joel bit his lip, “I’m sorry. Let me–”

“Joel,” Her voice cracked, “I love you.” His heart soared as she spoke those words for the first time, then shattered as she continued, “I understand that I’m not your first priority–that’ll always be Sarah and I can’t blame you for that. But, fuck, you suggested the restaurant, Joel. You spoke to my mom over the phone and promised her the best steak in town, and she sure seemed to like it, but you weren’t even there. I won’t ever be your first priority, but I can’t be your last, either.”

“Y/n–”

“I think my cousins liked it, you know.” She continued, wiping at her cheeks, “They’re the type to pray for your downfall, and I’m sure they were loving every second of the dinner once everyone realised that you weren’t coming. Hell, all I did all night was talk about how amazing you were, and then–” Y/n cut herself off with a quiet sob.  “You should probably leave.” 

“Don’t do this,” Joel cupped her face, dropping the flowers to the deck recklessly as he wiped the tears away from her cheeks with his thumbs, “Tell me what to do. Hit me, yell at me, do something, but don’t ask me to walk away.”

She looked into his eyes, and for a moment, Joel felt hopeful that she might actually listen to him, though all hope was quickly diminished as he removed herself from his grasp, reaffirming her statement as she stepped back into the house.

“You should probably leave.”

[phoenixblaze1412]

can i request a fem reader who has a terrible moodswing during her period? i couldn't help but imagine dottore getting yelled at by reader because of her mood hehe, also, how will dottore handle the situation?

-🧊

Code Red.

Every segment knows of this. An event that happens every month and usually lasts for a week. Yes, their darling's monthly period pain.

Dottore is already aware of it. He was the one who made the code after all.

He would already have the medicine and painkillers that you may need to help suppress those cramps you have to endure. Ibuprofen, naproxen, aspirin and the like. All prepared and organised in a certain shelf titled 'For Pain/Cramps' just in case needed.

Ah, ah, ah. You are not eating various sugary treats or those cravings you want. The only treat you can consume is dark chocolate. Dottore explained that said product has magnesium that can also help alleviate your pain. Doctor's orders after all.

Dottore usually wouldn't be bothered when others would scream at him. But hearing your voice curse and yell at him would make him flinch. He knows it's part of your mood swings and it's normal but sometimes he would be overthinking some of the words you would say until you had to force it outta him during your post-period state.

If Dottore is busy in his laboratory or on a mission while you're on your period, he would send some of his segments to take care of you.

Dottore made sure to write a list of things needed for you and to take note of your mood swings because each emotion or reaction you show has various meanings that the segment has to understand to be able to handle the situation.

The segments, mostly the younger ones during Dottore's pre-fatui era, would be panicking over you. They read the notes given to them, yes. But did they understand? Absolutely not. They haven't taken care of you like this before but they were the ones ordered by Dottore himself to take care of you since they were available.

The segments even suggested of immediately putting you in the operating room right when they saw the blood staining your sheets and coming from down there. They thought that one of your organs must have popped and could require medical treatment immediately.

Dottore had to step in and rescue you right after Omega informed him that you were about to have surgery just because of some measly blood. He couldn't blame his segments for being so idiotic, he once thought you had an internal bleeding that he didn't examined carefully when he first found out about your period.

After that incident, he decided to hold a small meeting between himself and his segments and informed them of your monthly pain. He made sure the segments don't even bother to think of trying anything else to fix you other than follow the instructions he laid out when your menstrual cycle arrives.

Dottore may have forgot to inform them about the mood swings.

Later on, he found his segments sulking in the corner of your room with a hurt look plastered across their faces.

"..never have I seen a woman become so scary..."

"I blame you for this, Gamma."

"I didn't do anything! I was only giving her the medicine! Besides, Epsilon was supposed to bake treats for her."

"She already ate them all!"

"Enough of your chatter and stand up. She's acting like that because of her mood swings. It's part of her monthly cycle. So stop whining and get to work."

Yes, Dottore wrote down every little thing needed to do whenever you had your period but he left out a certain thing. Affections.

Any simple act of physical affection that he would initiate is already enough to keep you stable. From cuddles to forehead and cheek kisses all the way to whispering sweet words into your ear is enough to stop your mood swings from going haywire.

He wouldn't let his other segments know about it, just because they're him from different time periods doesn't mean he would let them give you affections. How ironic of him to be jealous of himself.

Nonetheless, when it comes to you, you are his and his alone.

[rose-tinted-glasses671]

Let The Light In

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem reader

warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking

summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.

word count: 3356

read pt.2

a/n: This is my first attempt at a fanfic but im excited about this. The idea came from one of my many pre-sleep scenarios that i had a strong desire to put on paper. Also, I wrote simon to not be emotionally closed off because: a) thats how i imagine he would be and b) i love an emotionally mature man. okay thats it. enjoy!

You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.

But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.

His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.

Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.

“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.

“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.

You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”

“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”

“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.

The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”

The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.

“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.

You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.

The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.

After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.

You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.

“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.

Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.

Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.

“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.

While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.

“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.

“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.

“Is your name Harper?”

She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.

You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.

“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.

With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.

Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.

Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.

Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.

Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.

He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.

The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.

Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.

“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.

Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.

Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.

You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.

“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.

When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.

“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”

It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.

“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”

He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”

You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.

“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.

“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”

“She spoke to you?”

You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.

“Hmm.”

You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.

“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”

Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.

Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.

“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”

You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.

“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.

You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.

And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.

After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.

Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.

“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.

You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.

These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.

After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.

He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.

“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.

Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.

Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.

You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1231

Anon asked:

May I have some torture prompts please?*

TW: Non-con body modifications/gore/body horror/organ harvesting etc

I got a bit carried away with these...

Your whumpee is left cut open - perhaps with their organs exposed. Their flesh could be pulled back and held open. This takes the feeling of exposure to a whole new level.

^ This also entices anxiety/panic. As they may be able to see organs grow back, therefore as they get closer to 'completion' they start to panic when they remember the pain of removal.

^ Also the torturer could use this for 'science' in order to better calculate which organ is better value for time/money.

The torturer could also take blood at the same time to limit the mess during surgeries. Your whumpee is constantly nauseous/lightheaded/weak because of this. (Dubious science, but you get the idea)

The first time they're allowed to heal, even for a short amount of time, they're overwhelmed with relief.

Are they rescued while they're still 'open'?

Do they scar regardless of the injury type? For example, if a leg is taken, are they left with a ring of scarring where the initial cut was?

At what point do they stop feeling it/are so in shock that they just.. don't register what's going on?

How does the harvesting affect their sense of balance/bodily functions? Do they have nausea, but have nothing to make something to bring up? When they're able to stand after their rescue, do they feel heavy/full?

^ Are they so used to feeling empty?

Do the torturers take their eyes so they're unable to see what's happening/where they are?

What if, a long time after their rescue/recovery, they stumble across someone who received a limb/organ they needed - maybe they're so grateful for it, but the whumpee has to silently suffer knowing that it's their body part.

^ How does the whumpee know it's theirs? Do tattoos/pre-existing scars regenerate also?

After the rescue, the first time they have a day without pain is bliss. They sob.

*(The character context Anon gave is under the cut)

My whumpee is from a humanoid subspecies that can regenerate almost ANY lost body part - limbs, fingers, eyes, tongue, most internal organs, you name it - unless they've been fully chopped to bits. The only thing they cannot regenerate is their equivalent of a brain, because obviously that controls the regeneration process (if they've been lobotomized, they can still regenerate but slower). The regeneration process usually lasts from 3 hours to a week, depending on what and how much has been lost, but the process is painful, uncomfortable and it's usually for the best that the individual is asleep through most of it.

That makes whumpee's subspecies very attractive to organ harvesting rings, because their organs are compatible with those of many other species. One day, our whumpee wakes up strapped to a table...

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Left for Dead

Part One

Scott Tracy breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the wheels of the ‘conventional’ jet he was flying left the tarmac.

His never failed to feel lighter once he was no longer touching the earth, but this time the relief was more intense than usual.

As he guided the executive jet – once Jeff’s favourite plane, a sleek long-haul commercial jet that had been the Aviation arm of Tracy Industries flagship product, and dubbed ‘Tracy One’ – exactly through the ‘gateway’ at the end of the runway climb out, the radio crackled to live. The heavily accented English of the Departures Controller for Trondheim Lufthavn gave him his final instructions to clear the Lufthavn’s controlled airspace and join his filed flightpath out of Norway and back to Tracy Island.

He only let himself relax as he hit his cruising speed and altitude, and activated the pre-programmed autopilot.

Reaching back he caught the retractable tray table and dragged it towards him, before picking up his insulated mug, a custom-made gift from Brains that allowed him to ensure he had hot coffee available on a solo flight in the plane.

He couldn’t help glancing back at the safe built into the bulkhead at the back of the cockpit. He still had grave reservations about getting TI involved in the construction of the World Government’s new high-security computer system to be based in Norway; but the World Government had wanted Tracy Industries for their reputation for excellence and security, the TI Board wanted it, and most importantly John wanted it.

Scott tried not to think about the fact that his brother was likely to include a backdoor to the system.

But Scott had been convinced that it was in the best interests of all involved to take the project on, and he had gone to Norway to meet the key personnel and personally take receipt of the plans. TI facilities would produce the various key components and they would be shipped to Tracy Island for construction by one Hiram K. Hackenbacker

Scott sighed, even Brains had been excited by the prospect of getting to look at the designs, and the attendant programming that the hardware would be running. Something about the specifications for the “new ‘unbreakable’ encryption protocols”, and “the next major breakthrough in computing, practically quantum!”

Scott was worried that the two – three if Alan inserted himself into the mix – computer nerds would back-engineer the TOP SECRET computer and incorporate it into International Rescue’s equipment.

When – and Scott was not an optimist when it came to this sort of things, so it was when and not if – the rest of the world figured out that they had that technology, there would be some uncomfortable questions that Scott would be left to try to answer.

And he was resolutely NOT thinking about what Eos could do with all that processing power. Scott had reached a truce with the Space Monitor’s pet AI, but he hadn’t made peace with it … her. She had come dangerously close to killing John, ‘misunderstanding’ or not, ‘self-defence’ or not.

Harming his family was the one sin Scott Tracy could not forgive.

The next hour or so disappeared quietly as Scott brooded on his misgivings, carefully watched the plane’s gauges, and the sky.

Sometime after the onboard computer indicated that it had successfully completed its mandatory handshake with Chinese Air Control Scott stretched, arching his back and spreading his toes within the confines of his shoes. Flying alone was great for relaxation, flying alone long distances however … no matter how good the autopilot, a good pilot never left the controls unmanned.

Tracy One, while fast, was no Thunderbird One. I’m getting soft, Scott thought bemused. Too used to the multiple mach speed of his usual means of transportation.

Settling back into his seat, Scott once more scanned the gauges … only to see them all fade out as the engines whined their rollback to idle and shutdown.

Scott swore, unbelieving, hands once more on the controls, as he quickly hit two buttons, setting his transponder to squawk distress mode, and deploying the RAT, a small drop down wind turbine that dropped from the planes undercarriage and caught the airflow, generating enough power to get some gauges and controls working.

Fingers automatically worked at the controls, reconfigure for maximum glide, run through the midair engine restart procedure. And …

Nothing.

As Scott immediately recommenced the restart, he was on the radio: “Mayday, Mayday, Maday. This is November Tango India Zero One Charlie. Twin engine roll back, loss of power. Attempting restarts. Requesting assistance to squawk location.”

No response. Scott cycled through another engine restart attempt as he waited, nervously watching the altitude numbers seemingly freefall. There was no way he was descending that fast, surely?

Two more attempts at transmitting the mayday resulted in silence. The engines refused to restart.

Scott reached for his collar and swore. The meeting had been so high security even IR’s integrated collar coms were not allowed. And Scott had been in such a hurry to get back to the Island that he hadn’t changed his clothes, only ditching the ordinary – albeit obscenely expensive – coat, suit jacket, tie and cufflinks.

No direct link home. No mid-air rescue for Scott Tracy.

No matter. He could manage.

Abandoning his attempts to restart as the altitude numbers screamed down under the threshold.

His plane was going to kiss dirt. All he could do was make it as gentle as possible.

Scott switched his attention to scanning the ground below him, looking for a suitable space. Thank god he had elected to fly west towards home, meaning he was over the Gobi Desert.

Sand was preferable to water, no matter what Gordon said.

Sand would make for a nice soft runway, provided Scott managed a tail-first. Letting a leading edge dig in would be a disaster. Even with the International Rescue approved safety features retrofitted to the standard executive jet, there wouldn’t be much for his brothers to recover if she dug in and flipped, or windmilled around a wing.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. November Tango India Zero One Charlie. Restart negative. Unpowered landing necessary. Requesting immediate assistance to squawk location.”

Scott breathed carefully, focusing on his search and not the possibilities.

There!

Off in the distance Scott spotted a level area, large enough for the plane to coast to a stop on her belly.

He breathed out, mentally calculated the distance and descent, and carefully reconfigured the plane, setting the ailerons and stomping on the rudder to bring her tail around into the head wind and shed speed: side-slipping. He gently slewed her back the other way, ensuring she maintained the correct heading, but shedding altitude and speed.

This was a dangerous aerial ballet. More so than any dogfight he had been in during his service. One wrong move …

Scott’s hands were sweating on the control yoke. His heartbeat deafened him.

Oh, there was going to be so many lost of control drills for his brothers in the future. It had been too long since they had run any.

His luck held all the way down.

He managed to line up to the long axis of the space, and his tail kissed sand at the edge of the smooth space.

Metal screamed as sand ripped at the undercarriage as Scott gently lowered the length of the plane onto the dirt, and deployed all flaps and slats, increasing the resistance to the air, even as the sand resisted the movement of the hull.

And Scott became a passenger.

He kept his feet at the rudder pedals, trying to keep the plane moving in a straight line. Yaw risked rolling. But it was largely a futile effort, the path was set, determined by physics, geology and … geography!

Scott’s heart leapt into his throat as the plane hurled itself over the top of a rising dune that had been hidden by his approach angle. It was a significant drop down the other side, and the plane had lost enough momentum that it had little aerodynamic power.

The nose fell, and Scott heard yelling.

It took the eternity the plane was falling to realise that it must be him.

Impact was hard.

Metal screamed as sections of the cockpit rushed towards him, dislodged and distorted.

Something above him broke loose, swinging down into his field of vision.

It was the last thing Scott saw.

Notes:

This is Part One of my last Febuwhump Prompt from MariaShades, Part Two will actually address the prompt, but work's been mental, and Scott's been a little shit and really didn't want to crash his plane ... Oh well, better late than never.

And if I post this half, I'll stop faffing around with it and actually write the second half. In theory.

[obstinaterixatrix]

Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

[bangtansmauyeondan]

HALLI GALLI KING (KSJ | Moonstruck Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Seokjin x Fem. Reader (Married Couple)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (Don't let the cute banner fool you!), Toddler Talk, Food Talk, Mature Languages, Explicit/Suggestive, Mirror seggs

Genre: Mature, Fluff, Minor Angst

WC: 3.9k

This is a bonus chapter of the Moonstruck series, but can be read alone. However, I highly suggest you read the whole series if you want to meet the most comforting Seokjin character (thank you for saying this, @ahundredtimesover); and if you want to feel all warm and fuzzy from the relationship between them and their extensive and chaotic friend group.

NOT PROOFREAD, SO DON'T COME AT ME.

•••

Seokjin was jolted awake with a grunt by the energetic antics of his two-year-old daughter. With a diaper-cushioned bottom, Lily landed squarely on his stomach, accompanied by the joyful sound of her squeal resonating throughout the room.

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily crawled on top of him as her little fingers attempted to reach for his face. 

Cracking open his eyelids, he was greeted by the sight of mini pigtails and chubby cheeks right in front of his still-blurry vision. Two little fingers were on a mission, attempting to sneak into his mouth. Before he could fully grasp the situation, a hint of your light perfume tickled his nose as you leaned in to rescue him from the toddler takeover.

“Say ‘good morning, daddy’ and give him a kiss, bubs.” Your melodious voice came through, enough to make him internally smile. 

“Goo mowing daddy.” A tiny voice followed before a wet sloppy smooch landed on his left cheek.

“Good morning, baby,” He smothered her chubby cheeks with kisses, triggering a chorus of delightful screams. With a playful gesture, he signaled for you to join the cuddle party, arms wide open for a little morning family cuddle. 

“I don’t know what you want to have for breakfast but I cut up some fruits and I’m thawing out the waffles.”

“Don’t worry about me, honey,” he mumbled before planting a kiss on your nose. “Are we going somewhere? Why is she dressed up this early?”

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily piped up again, seemingly understanding what his dad just said. 

“Where are we going, bubs?”

Instead of answering him, Lily crawled off the bed and waddled towards a pile of plushies on the other side of the room, picking up a well-loved bunny stuffed toy given to her by Jungkook when she was still a baby. “Tokki!” Lily squealed before running and failing to climb back up on the bed. “Untew Kookie, Tokki and Lily bunny!” She tattled excitedly, using the nickname Jungkook has given her while pointing to herself, fully expecting her confused father to understand. 

“JK is dropping her off at daycare and picking her up,” you started explaining. “He hasn’t seen her in a while and wanted to take her to the zoo after.”

“She’s your daughter, Seokjin. She has your height,” you rolled your eyes at him. “If she’s not, my brother will figure it out.” 

“Is she tall enough for the zoo?” Seokjin asked, confusion etched on his face.

Seokjin got up from the bed and scooped his daughter up, extending his other hand for you to take. “Let’s start the day already, yeah? We want to make sure you and Uncle Kookie are both well fed before you leave.” 

You smiled to yourself as you followed your husband out of the bedroom.

Three years into the marriage, you found yourselves in the groove of family life, with a pint-sized sidekick stealing the spotlight. Mornings evolved into a tag-team spectacle, featuring breakfast skirmishes and a toddler tornado leaving a trail of toy mayhem. In the middle of it all, Seokjin somehow managed to squeeze in his pre-work routine, a feat you marveled at. Lucky for you, the work flexibility of an entrepreneur worked in your favor, after starting your own Home Fragrance business. The evenings however, were a comedy show, featuring attempts at gourmet-dinners-for-toddler prepared by your husband, that usually ended in hilarious situations. From the routine of bedtime stories and lullabies, you realized that your love story had expanded to include a tiny co-author. The house reverberated with laughter, baby babble, and admittedly finding moments for each other became a tad challenging. That’s why you tried hard to cherish every minute of cuddling before both of you drifted into a deep slumber at night.

Seokjin reveled in the luxurious embrace of deep slumber the night before, relishing the fact that today was Wednesday. Unlike other days, Wednesday granted him the rare reprieve from the bustling restaurant scene, allowing him to bypass the early morning alarm ritual. However, this particular Wednesday marked a first – his daughter wouldn't be at home for a good few hours. Since the beginning of the week, she had started attending daycare.

With your pint-sized ball of energy safely picked up by Jungkook and taken to daycare, you found yourselves in an uncharted territory – a quiet, toddler-free home on a random morning. The sudden absence of toy-induced chaos left the air surprisingly serene. Rather than basking in the newfound peace, boredom set in faster than you could say "peek-a-boo." 

Glancing at each other, you exchanged grins and embarked on a mission to reclaim the living room from the toy minefield. Seokjin groaned like an old man as he picked up the last piece of toy off the living room carpet before chucking it in the basket - a small Princess Peach figure that may not be appropriate for a two year-old at the moment. “That’s the last of it!” 

Without the usual background sound of tiny giggles and babbles, the house felt oddly still. Determined to make the most of your mini hiatus, Seokjin turned the music up and launched into an impromptu dance party, pulling you along and busting out with some questionable dance moves.

Your face started hurting from so much laughter, feeling more like the past versions of yourselves again– Seokjin and YN, young, carefree, and in love. Always been in love. 

You both fell on the couch, entangled with each other in an embrace and almost out of breath from your mean dance moves and endless laughter. 

“What are we doing next?” You asked, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. “Jenga?” 

“Yah… Do you want Lily to choke on those?” 

“Okay, no. Scratch that…” 

“Halli Galli,” Seokjin grinned before catching the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“We can’t play a drinking game!” 

Seokjin shifted and lied down on the couch, bringing you along, making you land on top of him. “I didn't  mean Halli Galli…” He dropped his voice a few octaves lower in a suggestive manner, while skillful hands started slowly kneading your ass, “I meant Halli Galli.”

You gasped, lightly slapping your husband’s chest at the suggestion. “In broad daylight?”

Seokjin’s hands traveled up underneath your shirt, skimming along the skin of your lower back. “We have four hours.”   

•••

Grabbing the vibrant bell and scattering the deck of fruity cards with a mischievous grin, Seokjin geared up for an unusual round of Halli Galli that you "invented" as a couple. With a sly wink and a confident smirk, he slumped down on the carpeted floor, right in front of you, and set the stage for a duel of lightning-quick reflexes, where every ring of the bell meant a sweet taste of victory for one and a piece of clothing less for the other. 

“You think you’re so smart,” you squinted at your husband who obviously has the advantage, as the undefeated king of Halli Galli in your friend group. 

“I’m playing fair and square, honey,” he smirked while giving you a once over. “You’re the one who’s not.” 

“What do you mean?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m still in my pajamas. You have more clothes on than I do.” 

“Whatever, Seokjin…” 

“Yeah, right. Whatever,” he snickered. “I’m gonna get you naked in under ten minutes,” he rubbed his palms excitedly while letting out a squeal that’s meant to push your buttons.   

“Okay, wait, wait…” You clasped your hands around his and made him look you in the eye. “Let’s take this up a notch then.”

“Ooooh…” Seokjin’s eyes shimmered in amusement. “I love how competitive you are.”

“No staring and no touching until all the cards are cleared out.” Your smile widened when you felt your husband swallow thickly. “You get turned on, you lose. Got it?” 

“Deal.” 

With a collective deep breath and teasing looks, the one on one game officially commenced. Seokjin drew the first card and the race to spot a matching set of 5 began, fingers hovering anxiously over the cards.

3 bananas

2 plums

1 lime

2 bananas

1 strawberry

4 strawberries

DING!!! 

Seokjin’s infectious laughter rang out, infused with a teasing tone, completely in contrast with a groan you let out for missing the bell. “Take it off! Take it off!” He chanted while repeatedly hitting the bell. 

You made a show of slowly lifting up your shirt and discarding it over your head, exposing a flattering lacy piece of black strapless material that perfectly hugged your breasts. “Like what you see?”  

“Not looking!” Seokjin quickly denied it, but the deep shade of pink adorning the tips of his ears said otherwise. Oh, your poor ‘boobs man’ husband. 

You started the second round. 

2 limes

3 strawberries

1 banana

3 plums

2 strawberries

2 bananas

5 plums

DING!!!

“Nooooooo!!!!!” You whined in frustration when Seokjin beat you to the bell again. “Why did I agree to this? I will never win against you.” 

“Because you enjoy giving me a strip tease.” Seokjin snorted. 

“Or you enjoy seeing me strip, that’s why you always suggest this!” 

“What are–” 

Seokjin’s words got caught up in his throat when you wiggled your way out of your jeans, revealing a lacy pair of panties that matched your bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He sure has seen you in all your glory through the years of your marriage, but the soft natural light streaming in from the window had this way of making your skin glow, giving you a subtle, effortless radiance. He was momentarily out of it and so he didn’t notice when you came closer to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You're drooling.” You took advantage of your husband's dazed state and drew a new card. 

2 strawberries

1 lime

3 plums

4 bananas

1 banana

DING!!!

You screamed in excitement when you got the bell first before Seokjin did. “I got you!” You quickly skipped over the deck of cards to your husband, fiddling with the first button of his blue pajama top, “Strip, strip, strip, strip!” 

“Yah, what are you doing?” Seokjin burst out laughing at your eagerness, the excitement from winning against him too obvious. “Are you taking my clothes off for me?”

“Can I?” You gave him the puppy eyes that work on him all the damn time.

“Absolutely not,” he said sternly, making you pout. “Sit your pretty ass back down, love.” You scoffed before making a show of slowly crawling back to the other side of the cards in all fours, showing off your ass at him. Seokjin felt his cock twitch. “Fucking hell, YN,” he muttered under his breath, earning a giggle from you. “You know I’m gonna get you topless on the next round, right?” 

Your snarky remark didn’t make it out of your lips when you turned to look at Seokjin who’s already removed his pajama top, leaving him in a white low-neck sleeveless undershirt. His broad chest commanded attention, like a sculpted landscape that exuded strength. Of all the things you love about your husband, funny how a simple show of muscles beneath taut skin seemed to drive you absolutely insane that you had to press your thighs together, already feeling the wetness pool between your legs. As his shirt dipped down, revealing a teasing glimpse of his exposed clavicle, your eyes zeroed in on a small beauty mark just below his left collarbone.   

Seokjin noticed your subtle movement, feeling his mouth turn paper-dry. He has been internally battling against himself since the first round and there’s nothing he wanted more than to fuck you stupid on the floor right at that moment. But he knew all this teasing would be well worth it in the end. “Well…?” 

“And if I get you topless on the next round?” You challenged, tilting your head at him.

Holding your gaze, Seokjin drew a card. 

3 bananas

1 plum

2 limes

1 banana

5 strawberries 

DING!!! 

“Yeah!!!!” Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding-ding-ding-dingggg! Seokjin hit the bell repeatedly in victory before standing up, closing his eyes, and throwing his hands up in the air, imagining a roar of applause in his head like an athlete who just scored a life-changing goal. 

“You look like you just scored a goal,” you stood up, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance. 

“The goal is to get you naked, you know,” he winked, throwing two finger guns your way. It’s so Seokjin of him and you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes and let out a laugh. 

“Is that so?” You sauntered towards your husband, letting a mischievous grin dance on your lips. The air was charged with a sultry energy as you approached, and you couldn't resist a subtle hip sway that turned the simple act of walking into teasing. 

You could see the curiosity spark in his eyes, and as you reached him, you couldn't resist playfully twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger and a quick lip bite, before running the same finger along his clavicle, down the length of his torso. Seokjin’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, making it obvious that your subtle movement already had an effect on him. The corner of your lips turned up into a knowing smile when your eyes landed on a very prominent outline on his pajama bottoms.  

You’re no better. Had Seokjin not been distracted by this little teasing show you’re trying to pull off, it would be difficult for you to hide the arousal that was soaking through your panties. You were gushing, and aching, desperate for his touch and you don’t know how long you could keep all this act up. 

You slowly pushed him back on the couch and he landed with a soft bounce as soon as the back of his knees hit the edge of the cushion. 

“You said no touching?”

“I changed my mind,” you gasped the moment the words slipped out of your mouth, not expecting to be pulled down by the waist, knees landing on either side of Seokjin’s hips. 

Seokjin tugged on your hips and helped you properly straddle him, immediately feeling the dampness of your core against his growing erection. “Shit, you’re already wet and we haven’t even done anything yet.” He wrapped one arm around you tighter and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Have I been neglecting you?” His voice came out strained in an airy whisper, worry and guilt pooling his eyes. He let his eyes roam freely on your beautiful face. Your silence screamed volumes, telling him everything he needed to know.

“Fuck,” he raked his fingers from the side of your nape up through your hair, giving it a light tug and exposing your neck. “I have,” the sensation of his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin sent goosebumps down your spine. Your eyes automatically shut and your jaw fell open when your husband started leaving wet trails of kisses up your neck, nipping on your sweet spot just behind the ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” he licked a long stripe up your throat, “I have no excuse,” and captured your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue expertly swirling, exploring and eliciting moans from you.  

You broke the kiss after what seemed like forever to catch your breath, only to plant your knees firmly on the couch and aggressively tug on Seokjin’s tanktop. “Take this off,” you demanded. Seokjin obliged and discarded his tanktop, throwing it haphazardly on the floor before letting his head fall back on the headrest of the couch, staring up at you— lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and hair disheveled. 

You ran your tongue across your lips before dipping your head down and attacking his neck with soft kisses, paying attention to the little beauty mark on his collarbone. You continued nipping at his soft skin, while your other hand made its way up to his ear, lightly rubbing his earlobe between your fingertips, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. “I told you I’m the one getting you topless on the next round,” you whispered followed by a flirty giggle. 

“Cheater,” Seokjin chuckled, eyes still closed. “You’re using my weakness against me.”

“Damn right, I am,” you bit back, slowly grinding your hips to feel his painfully hard manhood. “Mmm… you’re so hard right now, baby.” You gasped when you felt your bra loosen away from your body, almost missing the way Seokjin had swiftly unclasped it and threw it out of your sight with one hand. 

“Now, we’re even,” he sat up and quickly gathered your hands behind your back, holding them down with one hand while the other started fondling your right boob. “God, I love these tits so much,” he captured the other one in his mouth, tonguing your nipple while mimicking the movement with his thumb on the other one. 

You arched your back, writhed and moaned in pleasure, almost positive that you’re gushing through your panties and soaking through your husband’s pajama bottoms as well, “Fuck, Jinnie…” Your pussy clenched at nothing, desperate to be touched. “Baby, touch me, please.” 

“Shhh…” Seokjin splayed his hands on your back pulling you closer again, while peppering your chest and neck with kisses. “I’ll take care of you, hmn? I got you…” Pushing your panties to the side, he ran his middle finger along your sopping slit. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby…” He went in with two fingers, slowly pumping them in and out of you while putting pressure on your clit with his thumb. 

You whimpered in pleasure as your husband curled his fingers repeatedly, reaching that soft spongy spot that made your knees weak. “Jin, baby, I need you inside me,” you cried out, hands reaching out to tug on Seokjin’s arms. 

Without a word, Seokjin slipped his fingers out of you and stood up from the couch, aiding you in the process. He stepped out of his pajamas and pre-cum-stained boxers and helped you in removing your panties as well. 

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him back for a hot searing kiss, in anticipation of being fucked stupid on the couch, only to be caught by surprise when Seokjin turned you around and pushed you against the porcelain console table, meeting your reflection against the huge wall mirror head on. 

Seokjin tugged on your hips, bending you over and before you realized what’s happening, he’s already thrusting into you with a deep groan, pushing you forward on the console table, making the decorative trinkets and scented candles rattle by the force. 

Your legs shook trying to take in the pain and the pleasure of being stretched out combined as Seokjin relentlessly fucked you; the glorious sounds slipping out of his mouth as he took you from behind making your head spin. You whimpered as your head hung low, your hands clasping and unclasping against nothing as you tried to ground yourself. You’re a moaning and whining mess. Your skin covered with a sheen of sweat, your hair disheveled, and your skin blotchy with blooming purple marks from your husband’s earlier assault. You felt him gently grab your jaw and directed you to look in the mirror. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispered against your ear. Seokjin’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, his skin also glistened with sweat, and his ears and neck were flushed red. You both stared at each other in the mirror, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans and groans of pleasure speak for yourselves for a good few seconds.  

“I’m close, baby…” you whined, feeling the tightness on your lower belly. 

“Yeah?” Seokjin snaked one arm around you, propping you up while fondling your breasts, and brought his free hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit. “Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, intently watching you fall apart in his arms. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you moaned out your answer and he took the sweet opportunity to nip at your shoulder.

“Fuck, Seokjiiiinnn…” 

Your beautiful sound turned him on even more, and his pace became more sloppy and erratic, a telltale sign that he’s also close to cumming.

“That’s it, baby,” Seokjin whispered in your ear. “I love you so much. You’re doing so good.” 

Tears started prickling your eyes, an unbidden response to the overwhelming surge of emotion that gripped you in that moment. A sudden jolt of pleasure snapped the tightening knot you felt on your lower belly free, and Seokjin fucked you through waves of euphoric bliss, until he’s stilling his hips and painting your walls white with his own release. 

It took him a good few seconds before pulling out of you and catching his breath, but the first thing he did was take you in his arms and capture your lips into a sweet kiss. “I love you,” he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” 

“But you are around…” you reached up and ran your thumb against his cheek. 

“I should have paid more attention to you,” he pouted. 

“It’s okay, as long as Lily’s the only other girl hogging all your attention.” 

“Of course!” Seokjin dipped his head and started kissing down your neck, “...unless you give me another daughter, you know.” 

You yelped in surprise when your husband picked you up bridal-style and made his way up to your bedroom. 

“Seokjin!”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

•••

“We’re home!” Jungkook’s booming voice echoed around the house a mere thirty minutes after Seokjin finished cleaning up in the living room, and you went on to start preparing for lunch. “Stay right here, Lily bunny,” he sat your daughter down on the carpeted floor and took a bulky interactive felt book out of her little backpack. “What did we learn in school?”

“Foots!” She proudly smiled up at her uncle while pointing at felt cutouts of fruits with googly eyes from her book. 

“Good job, bunbun!” Jungkook softly pinched his niece’s little nose, which made the little one sneeze. 

You rounded the corner from the kitchen at the same time that Seokjin made his way downstairs with a change of clothes for your daughter.

“Stay for lunch; I’m making suyuk.” You know your younger brother won’t be able to say no to pork belly. 

“Taehyung also brought some pa kimchi from Mom the other day. It would be so good with suyuk.” Seokjin added. 

“Oh damn, yeah. That would be delicious.” Jungkook nodded. “By the way, Yoongi hyung called and–” 

“Bananas! Bananas!” Lily squealed excitedly, holding up a single Halli Galli card that Seokjin missed while cleaning up. 

“Yah…” Jungkook took the card from Lily and paused for a moment, cogwheels turning in his head. Seokjin pressed his lips together trying hard not to burst out laughing. You, on the other hand, looked mortified, silently praying for the ground to crack open and swallow you up whole. “Did you two play Halli Galli while I took Lily out?” 

Silence. 

Jungkook groaned. “You filthy animals!”

Seokjin gave in and launched into his infectious squeaky laugh, tagging you and your brother along.

The sexy Halli Galli game may have reached its boisterous and delightful climax for the day, but the love and intimacy exchanged between you and Seokjin would forever linger in your shared little home.

•••

SERIES TAGLIST:  @bts-reveries @tan-dulset @persphonesorchid  @joonjoonsmiles @jayhope88 @thatbangtanjagiya @anaceciliaxr @justinetingball @halesandy @yoongleskitten @onemanbandarmi @juju-227592 @ephyra1230 @somelazysundays @ygbubs @timelessruins @teamtardis-notdead @sugakookies0613 @pinkseokchim @taestefully-in-luv

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @snoozeagustd @persphonesorchid @thatbangtanjagiya @taestefully-in-luv @pamzn @wrmnssoul @ygbubs @halesandy @jayhope88 @bnagtanx1306 @busanbby-jjk @babycandy111

[right-brain-of-froggy2]

Colors

A little Saturday day drabble for you all- hope you enjoy it!

AO3 link here!

“Jeff balances the unimaginable: giving a guest lecture at MIT and herding his three little boys”

“So if you take into account the resistance drag from all of the asteroids’ gravity between here and Jupiter, the maximum size of a carrier ship is…”

“Ten!”

Jeff holds back a look as Virgil giggles at John’s exclamation. The students of the class, however, don’t hold back their coos as Scott clamors up into his lap at the same time.

“Well, as you can see, I am on babysitting duty today,” Jeff explains. Lucy had to help out her folks at the farmer’s market this morning after their normal hands got sick, leaving Jeff to manage a menagerie of sons. A nine-month-old, three year old, and very rambunctious five year old are not the best to combine with a guest lecture to PhD students at MIT.

Scott gets himself comfy and waves his own model spaceship (stolen from John, Scott certainly doesn’t have any space toys as by his own accord) to the class.

“Blue is the fastest color. You should make it blue!”

One student unmutes himself. “He may be onto something there, Mr. Tracy. You might want to look into that.”

“Actually, I would argue red is faster,” another jumps in.

Relieved that the students are better-natured than his last group, Jeff lets Scott stay in his lap. He does a quick scan of the room to find Virgil in his playpen and John by his feet with a set of action figures.

“The answer to the actual question is half a kilometer. Any larger and gravity would produce an unstable inertia.” The students jot down his answers. Jeff looks to the next few slides of his PowerPoint. They’re on the typical space travel topics that he’s sure these students have studied before in their classes. He’s just been brought in as more of a celebrity than a point of reference.

Scott makes vrooming noises as he crashes the ship into Jeff’s arm. It’s the last confirmation Jeff needs to shut out of the PowerPoint. Professor Mavis looks concerned as there’s still thirty minutes left, but Jeff waves her worries off.

“I’m sure you’re all tried and true with all the information I would have shared with you. It’s textbook information that I only add to with a few personal stories. But let’s go a little off the beaten path today. Let’s talk about those questions that no one has answered about space travel for you before.”

The students nod- they look excited- but stay quiet.

John makes grabby hands to be lifted up. Jeff moves his holoprojector to the coffee table to pick up his second son. Once again, the students cheer at the sight of another chunky little baby. John hides his blushing face into Jeff’s chest. He clears his throat. “I’ll start. Red or blue. Is one of them faster?”

“Red is!”

“Blue!”

“Guys, it’s a trick question…”

“No, red!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I think o-ange,” John adds his two cents in. That just about earns him a wallop from Scott who will die by the color blue.

Jeff laughs at the students bickering amongst themselves. “I bet you weren’t ready to discuss color theory today in class. There is a right answer, but it’s not quite based on speed. Does anyone know what we’re starting to base craft colors on?”

One of the students, a fourth year Jeff recognizes from previous talks, unmutes. “Would it be based on distance in correlation with the redshift theory? Red is easier to see for deep space missions when viewing from the Solar System?”

“That’s a good idea,” Jeff says with a nod. “But not quite. We aren’t on the level of deep space travel that redshift would need to be considered.”

“Oh, you’re right,” the student agrees. “And unless it’s emitting light, there’s no way we would probably see a reflection.”

A chorus of “ooh’s” and “umm’s” chorus.

“Anyone else?”

“Blue is best,” Scott says. He looks to the students and nods oh so seriously that the students all have to go along with it.

Jeff finally answers. “Well, we based what colors to make a ship based on-”

Virgil decides to let to a racket of noise from his playpen at the anticipated moment. He’s whacking one hard toy against another as a mock hammer. The boy shrieks in joy when a chunk of one flies off. “No, no, no Virgie! Don’t break toys!” Scott’s pushing of from Jeff to play dictator and tell Virgil that he did wrong. John takes his chance and claims the prime spot on Jeff’s lap for his own.

Jeff laughs. He can feel how red his face is with the slight embarrassment. “We base colors on destination. You want to pick a color that stands out against both space, the sun, and your destination. That immediately takes out black, yellow, and most tans or oranges. Silver is common due to it’s reflectivity. And being the normal color for most of the metals we use. But so, if you have a rocky planet mission, blue would be an excellent choice. Going to Neptune or Uranus? Blue might be the worst possible choice. Go for red.”

The students flood with Jeff questions after the gate has been broken.

John falls asleep against his chest as he continues discussing all things space with the students. Scott’s asleep on the floor, half under the table, and Virgil’s fixated on a bird at the bird feeder outside the bay window. Jeff can’t think of a more perfect day beyond if Lucy were here, napping on the other couch too.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph,

I am in the mood for some really long fics. Preferably not AU as I find those hard to get into. Although, like always, I am open to your all your suggestions.

Loves Seven.

Hi Lovely!!

Ahhh, I've a TONNE of long fics, and a lot of them AREN'T AUs! I'm gonna use your ask as an excuse to post a new list, and please check out the other pages linked below! I label if a fic is an AU or not, so just skip over those if you're not up for them! Enjoy!

NOVEL LENGTH FICS: 50 to 100K Pt 4

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 20 to 25K (Oct 2020)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K Pt 2 (July 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 3 (Jul 2022)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 3 [MFL’s] (Dec 2020)

Long Domestic Johnlock (50K+ w.) (March 2023)

Smut-Free Fics Over 50K (Aug 2019)

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017)

Long S3/Post-S3 Fics (20K+ w.) [Apr 2020]

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 4: 50K+ Words Pt. 1

Anxious / Worried Sherlock Pt 2 (Over 20K w.)

Long Pining Fics (50K+) [March 2023]

G,T, & M-Rated Johnlock for Newcomers Pt. 3 (20K+)

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

[toastandjamie]

So like, since I’m doing my re-read, I’ve reached The Great Hunt and it’s got me thinking about that of the three Ta’veren boys, Mat is the only one who doesn’t get a pov in the first two books. His first pov is book three and while he definitely makes up for lost time I’ve been thinking about it.

So, when I first read Eye of The World and The Great Hunt and joked with my dad about how Mat was virtually a ‘damsel in distress’ for Rand in the first two books. And while it’s Funny I think the actual reasons I got that vibe is the lack of agency.

So Mat gets daggered very early on in the first book and throughout the Camlyn Road-trip Mat’s main purpose is to be something Rand can worry over or be frustrated by. In writing a character Pov is a major way of establishing agency since it turns the character into an active participant in the story and while it’s not the only way to do this as seen by characters like Morraine and Lan who don’t have povs in the first book either but are still active characters. This becomes especially apparent in book 2 where the major motivation for the boys to even go on the hunt for the horn was to get the dagger back for Mat, so much so that it’s readily established that Rand wouldn’t have gone on the hunt point blank if it wasn’t for Mat and the dagger; yet Mat still has no pov in this book despite being the one primarily affected by losing the dagger. Mat is more or less used as a plot hook in the first two books to force Rand into situations he otherwise would not be in. Such as what happened at Four Kings where Rand repeatedly wants to leave and suggests doing so but Mat insists on staying so they don’t have to sleep in the rain or in the case of the hunt, causes Rand to participate in the hunt with a life or death ticking clock. We don’t get any incite beyond Perrin and Rand noting Mat’s physically declining health, growing paler, losing weight and looking sickly as the book goes on. Mat of course doesn’t ever acknowledge it in dialogue because it’s Mat so we as an audience never get any incite into how Mat feels about the fact that he’s quite literally dying since we don’t have the benefit of his internal monologue.

Compare this to a the time where they subverted the ‘damsel in distress’ trope. with Egwene, there are three major plot lines in which she’s captured and we have povs for all three and in each of those events she still has agency. Even in the damane arc where she is quite literally stripped of her agency she still feels like an active character because we see her trying to defy the Seanchen, she’s not simply a plot device needing to be rescued she’s a character experiencing trauma. Even when Rand was put in the box he continues to evolve as a character and so did Faile during her time with the Shaido. All three had povs, all three were still actively participating in their situation, we knew exactly how they felt about the horrible things happening to them and see them deal with them in ways that show their characterization and growth.

Mat receives none of that. Not until the third book at least when he’s finally freed from the dagger.

So what’s up with that? Well, it’s possibly intentional. Okay so, the dagger of Shader Logoth and it’s Evil overwrites or at least tries to overwrite the person it’s possessing, that’s it’s curse, you become one with the dagger and one with Shadar Logoth. So up until the point Mat is fully healed from the dagger he is not really himself. Even after Morraine partially heals him, calming him down and keeping it from getting worse he’s still not fully Himself, as evidence by his memory loss. Partly it’s repression, but it was also the dagger overwriting his pre-exiting memories, his personality, everything that made him him. In the simplest of terms, Mat quite literally Wasn’t really his own character until book three, in many ways he WAS the dagger. An object with no personal agency but a catalyst for other characters.

[edutainer2022]

It's Scott Tracy's birthday, but all my WIP stories are kinda angsty atm. So I decided to revisit this little thing on the day - it always makes me smile. It's mind-numbing fluff. A morning talk-show with Jeff Tracy upon return to Earth provides grounds for some much needed revelations. And hugs.

ONE WORD ANSWERS

As interviews were going these months, this was a smaller one. Done privately from the desk in the lounge via a holo-com. Ever since the dramatic return from Oort Cloud, already christened the "Rescue of the Century", every media outlet worldwide wanted a piece of him. Jeff didn't feel much like putting up with most of it - eight years in outer space on meager rations and slim hope was a brutal awakening once they were safely back on Earth. Besides, he'd rather not waste any more time than necessary on media coverage, away from his family. He'd done his fair share of that in his active duty days, and Lord knew he had A LOT to catch up with in his sons' lives. A lot! Some things he gleaned and pieced together in observations and a backlog of reports were more... thought provoking than others. But some visibility was needed and even expected. He understood that.

The interview for a morning show in a different timezone was to be short, capped up with a ten-questions blitz to lighten the mood. The outline of questions, as per usual, was screened by John and Tracy Legal, and pre-approved by Jeff himself. His only recommendation this time around was the order of points in a blitz.

If the boys were surprised he asked them to sit in through the interview, obscured by the sunken lounge, they didn't show it. Jeff made sure everyone was on the island, Scott back from NYC and the Tracy Industries Board full of questions and incessant worries as to the perspective changes in status quo, Alan back from campus orientation, even John planetside for the weekend (something that had become a frequent and welcome habit). They knew Dad sometimes struggled with social situations these days and needed some cheering along and support - which was provided with unreserved abandon.

The interview was running its course smoothly, as they neared the 10 questions section. The show anchor was all smiles - the mock-blitz questions were submitted by the viewers and the most frequent or special ones were selected.

- So, Mr. Tracy, you were the First Man on Mars, the Founder of International Rescue, you set multiple supersonic speed records. How would you describe yourself in one word?

Oh, that was an easy one. He would have used so many words years ago as applied to himself - some more on point, some vain. A pilot. An astronaut. An entrepreneur. A husband. A son. A Thunderbird. A man of the world. A friend. A savior. A failure. An idealist. A leader. A survivor. Jeff Tracy still was all those things, in different measures. But eight years of the endless night, with nothing but his thoughts, memories and dreams for company, have distilled his self-awareness to one point of absolute clarity:

- A father.

He could hear the collective breath escape his sons' lips and a soft glow washed over their features.

The blitz went on.

- What are you most proud of?

That too was a no-brainer, but he might need more than one word to answer exhaustively. Never hurts to elaborate on global television:

- My sons. There are no words to express how proud I am of their accomplishments and of the incredible people they grew up to be: my youngest son Alan is a prodigy, the youngest rocket pilot in history, Gordon is an Olympic champion, an environmental activist AND an Aquanot for International Rescue, Dr. John Tracy, the Voice that Answers, holds multiple PhD degrees in Astrophysics and Computer Science, my son Virgil is an accomplished pianist, like his mother, and a recognized artist on top of being busy full time with International Rescue engineering.

Smiles were blooming on his boys' faces up to a point it became apparent he stopped his answer at four. Jeff could swear there was a sheen of tears in Alan’s eyes, whereas light brown and turquoise turned momentarily hard. Virgil's whole face was a shimmer of disbelief and betrayal. Scott's eyes, soft and understanding, and infinitely sad, would be enough to stop the interview right there and backtrack. But he needed to see this through just right. The news anchor was beaming, as they were down to the last question:

- That is certainly a LOT to be proud of, Mr. Tracy. I'm sure the whole world, anyone who has ever needed help from International Rescue, would agree. But our viewers want to know one last thing from the Hero of the Century. Do you know you're called that? That's a tough mark to measure up to! Well, who is YOUR Hero, Mr. Tracy?

The anchor probably would have never guessed how simple and ready that answer was in his mind. He didn't need a moment to think:

- My eldest son. Scott Tracy. Everything International Rescue is today, everything our family is today - we owe him. I owe him my life. I know nobody stronger in the face of so much pain and pressure. I could survive in outer space, but I am not sure I could ever do what he did in my absence. I could never admire or respect anyone more. I am a better man for being his father. So it's simple as that, Scott Tracy is my hero.

The holo projector barely flickered out when he was barreled into midriff by a flurry of warm and blond, and fierce. Alan hugged him tight and mumbled "Thank you!", no doubt aimed at his words not only on all other brothers, but on Scott. He meant every one of those. Soon he was in a circle of strong arms and within reach of the most beloved young faces, incandescent with emotions and hope. All but one. Scott lingered behind, as he was disturbingly wont to since their first hug in the Oort Cloud - hence Jeff's little staged performance today, as a desperate measure. He held his eldest son's gaze unwaveringly across the lounge, aware of the tears streaming from still astonished blue eyes. It was an instant loss to step out of his boys' embrace even for a brief moment, but there was something he needed to do. He crossed to the couches in three big strides and held Scott as tightly to himself as the still recuperating muscles would allow. It hurt to know the boy would be this surprised to be acknowledged and appreciated. But Jeff was gifted a second chance to let all his sons know how cherished they were. How precious. He'd waste no minute of that. A tight circle of strong arms was soon  embracing him and Scott again, more confirmations of affection all around washing over. There was nothing he'd rather do for the rest of his life.

[gumnut-logic]

It started off as a mild annoyance.

Scott had fallen asleep at his father’s desk. Too much paperwork, most of which he was learning on the fly. Board members doubting his ability to take over from his father and juggle International Rescue. Virgil would kick his ass if he found out. John probably already knew. 

Both elder brothers were doing their best to help. Virgil was taking on as much International Rescue as was humanly possible. John was juggling Tracy Industries almost as much as Scott while handling day-to-day IR.

His father’s shoes were massive to fill.

And he left a gaping hole in Scott’s heart.

Waking up with an imprint of his own knuckles on the side of his face and a massive crick in his neck wasn’t the best. Staring at the glow of the twelve reports still awaiting review did nothing to improve his mood.

Briefly wondering how he had managed to sleep what appeared to be at least an hour with no disturbance, he remembered that Virgil was still on the other side of the planet, John was likely busy with that same situation and the two youngest were in bed. Grandma had returned to Kansas to finalise some of Dad’s personal matters.

Scott groaned and let his head fall onto his arms again.

He was so tired.

Something tickled his neck.

Absently, he swiped at it and ended up hitting himself in the head.

A few things between his ears rattled loose.

The tickle climbed down his spine and found his ribcage.

Scott’s eyes widened and he jumped out of the chair, sending it spinning across the floor.

What the-?

It was under his shirt.

There followed a most undignified, full-bodied dance across the comms room as he attempted to get whatever it was out of his shirt.

It didn’t hurt, but it tickled like crazy. He was caught between screaming and uncontrolled giggling.

In the end, he resorted to ripping his shirt off and flinging it across the room.

The tickling stopped.

And was replaced with goose pimples as the pre-dawn breeze wafted across his skin. Scott found himself bare chested and breathing heavily.

He wasn’t afraid of bugs, but that was…strange. He eyed his shirt as if it was going to jump up and bite him.

Of course, that was the moment Gordon wandered through on his way to his morning training. The fish stood at the top of the stairs for a full ten seconds staring at his topless eldest brother standing in the middle of the room, lit only by the blue light of holo-projector on the desk.

“Interesting look there, Scott.”

Scott spared him a glare before grabbing the shirt off the floor. “Lights.”

The comms room lit up. Scott drew some satisfaction as Gordon cringed from the sudden brightness. Fortunately, the little fish scuttled off to his pool and left Scott alone without another annoying word.

There was no bug in or on his shirt. After examining it, he had no choice but to throw it back on, or continue to invite comments from the waking peanut gallery.

The sudden appearance of John on the central projector and the distant roar of the return of Thunderbird Two flicked all thoughts of bugs from his mind as the new day started even before the sun made an appearance.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was exhausted but he didn’t have time to sleep. He did give himself a few moments to sit in the kitchen, worship his bucket of coffee and stare out at Mateo as the sun rose over it. It was only blinding if he focussed on it and he didn’t have the energy to do that.

Two needed repair and she needed it now.

His last rescue had involved a volcano and she had far too many particulates in her filters. They would all need replacing before he felt comfortable taking her out again. 

After that he needed to see to Alan and help him set up for the morning’s classes. He quite enjoyed helping his littlest brother, but he enjoyed it much more when he hadn’t been up all night.

But first coffee.

So warm. So inviting.

He closed his eyes as sipped the blessed liquid that was going to give him the energy to get through the rest of the day.

He nearly dropped the mug as something tickled him under his upraised arm.

He saved the mug, but didn’t manage to stifle the high-pitched squawk.

The coffee was deposited carefully, but Virgil was out of his seat and grabbing at his clothing in an energetic frenzy.

There may have been one or two more high pitched squeaks as red flannel was rubbed and scrubbed at frantically. 

Out of desperation, Virgil tore off both his shirt and his grey undershirt and threw them on the floor. He resisted the urge to stamp on them.

It was his favourite shirt.

“Virg?”

He looked up to find Gordon, fresh from the pool, standing in the doorway staring at him.

“You okay?”

If Virgil flushed red, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. “Bug in my shirt.”

“Really.”

“Really.” Frowning his grabbed his shirt from off the floor, eyeing it suspiciously. Screw it, he sat down shirtless in front of his coffee and resumed staring out the window.

Gordon walked past him to the stairs, frowning and shooting him the oddest looks.

Virgil ignored him.

-o-o-o-

Scott made it through to lunch and finally dug up the answers the factory manager in Oklahoma had been begging him for. He had also managed to answer the lawyers, read and sign a pile of holographic documents and have a long-delayed meeting with the Japanese CEO. At least John had been able to help with translation. To be honest, it had just been a relief to have a brother to talk to.

Surrounded by family.

Too damned busy.

The last task for the morning was a parent-teacher conversation with Gordon’s curriculum manager. Scott had suspicions that there was a little too much Olympic training happening versus school work. It was a fine balance that had to be maintained. Gordon was a good student, if a little out of the ordinary…but then what Tracy wasn’t? At least two were diagnosed geniuses, and the other three focussed on their goals to the point of blindness, himself included.

His short Air Force career flickered through his mind and he shunted it away.

He was where he needed to be. Fate saw to that.

Scott stepped into the sunken lounge and briefly wondered if he was going to be allowed to leave this room today at any point. 

A resigned sigh and he his comms. “Gordon, time for the meeting.”

“FAB. Be there in two.”

Gordon was true to his word and appeared almost immediately, loud shirt and shorts as eye blasting as usual.

Scott reached out dropped a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. At sixteen, already Gordon’s accomplishments required a cabinet to hold all the trophies. With the loss of their father, Gordon had stumbled with the rest of them, but he was regaining his feet fast. He had to. This was his chance. The 2056 Olympics waited for no excuses.

This time it started on his wrist.

The faintest of tickles.

It was a tickle, not an itch. It played with nerve endings just like someone had their finger gently brushing across the surface of his skin.

It travelled up his arm as he snatched his hand away from his brother.

It was in his shirt again.

There were words as he once again found himself grabbing at his shirt.

“Scott, what?”

He was vaguely aware of the concerned expression on his brother’s face, but he was too busy trying not to giggle or scream.

His shirt ended up on the floor again.

Gordon stared at him a full five seconds, his face caught between incredulity, worry and hysterical laughter. Being Gordon, the laughter won out.

Scott ignored him and poked his shirt with his foot.

Of course, that was the moment John flickered in to advise that the curriculum manager was ready for the meeting. Scott had to admit that somewhere in the back of his wasted brain, there was something quite funny about the expression on the space monitor’s face.

Gordon, of course, had tears running down his face and was useless.

Scott had a lot of experience keeping his composure. He needed it all at the moment. “John, could you please ask Ms Smithson to hold for a moment, I need to grab a shirt.”

John bit his lip, obviously holding something back. But, ever the professional, he didn’t say anything but, “FAB,” before blinking out.

Scott picked up his shirt with two fingers and made a beeline for his bedroom.

At least he got a moment outside of the comms room.

-o-o-o-

A new shirt found, Scott made it through the interview. Turned out Gordon had been really working hard and with a small adjustment to his curriculum, he should be able to manage both his training and his graduation with only a small delay. Scott was satisfied that it would be the best for the athlete at this time.

The grin on Gordon’s face made it extra worthwhile.

Scott turned back to the desk after the meeting, but the list of messages awaiting his attention just hurt to look at.

Screw it. He deserved food, another room and maybe even some brotherly conversation. A quick check on Virgil’s location placed him, as expected, in the hangars. The engineer had not been happy that his ‘bird had suffered during last night’s rescue. Virgil was as bad as he was. His brother hadn’t slept, International Rescue his highest priority.

Scott sighed. How could they be expected to go ahead like this?

Lunch. Food. He struggled to focus his mind. Had he had breakfast? He couldn’t remember.

An elevator ride and he walked out into the cool underground caverns that housed the great green behemoth that was the love of his brother’s life.

It wasn’t hard to locate that brother. The profanity was extreme for Virgil and it had Scott quickening his step around the great plane. He found him harnessed and hanging in front of Two’s starboard intake. The swearing was moving into European languages, never a good sign.

Scott shouted up at the dangling engineer. “Virgil?!”

“What?!” A spanner fell and hit the concrete two metres in front of Scott. Despite himself, he jumped.

Virgil stared down at him owlishly for a whole handful of seconds. “Sorry.” It was muttered, honest, but grudging.

“Can you come down?”

“Why?”

“It’s lunch time.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ve got to get this done. I’ve got to replace part of the filter housing.”

“Well, I am hungry and you haven’t slept. Come down.”

“I’m fine! This can’t wait!”

“Damnit, Virgil, get down here now!”

The glare that hit him from above was dark and fuelled from the bottom of a desperate coffee pot. Scott had no doubt of that.

But one more muttered expletive and his brother rappelled down to the concrete floor. Dressed in flannel with his maintenance harness secured over ratty jeans, Virgil was covered in dust and grime.

Didn’t dull his fury though.

The fact he was so angry, so out of character for the generally calm and quiet engineer was more than enough proof that his brother needed rest.

“What do you want, Scott. I have to fix my ‘bird otherwise she can’t fly and we can’t answer the next call.”

“I’m having some serious doubts we can answer the next call anyway. Look at yourself, Virgil. You’re exhausted.”

“Kettle, pot, Scott.”

“Exactly! Eat lunch with me.”

Those dark brows wrinkled even further, brown eyes making that subtle switch between engineer and concerned brother.

Scott supposed he should have expected this. Maybe he was asking for it, hiding from a decision he knew he was going have to make. 

Offering himself up as a sacrifice in order for Virgil to make the decision for him.

He was so goddamned tired.

This time the tickle started on his calf, just above his right sock.

He wriggled, frowning, shifting his feet.

It climbed up his leg and he let out a squawk somewhere between a giggle and a profane word that would have had Grandma washing his mouth out with soap.

“Scott?”

It was running around and around his thigh. Scott cracked and grabbed at his leg, spinning on the spot as Virgil reached for him.

Whatever it was, it was fast. Up and down his leg as if anticipated his attempts to grab it through his jeans.

“Scott, what is…oh, shit!”

The eldest Tracy spun to find Virgil hanging upside down in his harness grabbing at his shirt.

The tickle in Scott’s leg took the opportunity to breach his waist band and play with his navel.

Buttons flew across the hangar as Scott tore the shirt from his body. 

There was nothing on his belly.

Virgil squawked and writhed, still upside down.

The tickle appeared back in Scott’s pants, this time behind his left knee. He didn’t hesitate, shedding his shoes, he shucked his pants and tossed them aside.

Finally, finally the ticklish feeling stopped. But Scott was left in his black short briefs and socks.

And damn it was cold in the hangars.

Virgil was still writhing upside down, unable to shed clothing due to his harness. “Goddamnit, Scott, help.” There was the sound of ripping flannel as heavy lifting muscles resorted to force.

Scott grabbed at his brother’s harness and wrapping an arm around those broad shoulders, released the safety line. Virgil weight was considerable, but Scott stabilised him enough for the engineer to get his feet beneath him. A fumble with the harness buckles and the support fell to the concrete with a clink of its metal links.

Torn flannel followed.

Two layers of shirt stripped, Virgil suddenly took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his knees, letting his head drop. “It’s stopped.”

Both brothers heaved in air for a moment.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil looked up at Scott.

“I have no idea. Third time this morning.”

“Second.” Virgil’s voice was all breath.

“Happened before?”

Virgil nodded. “Over coffee.” A frown. “Gordon came in afterwards. This isn’t a new prank is it?”

Scott stared at his brother for a moment. “Gordon was there both times this morning.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He’s not here now.” Scott looked around before hesitantly poking his shirt enough to activate his comms. “Thunderbird Five, could you give me a location on Gordon?”

“Scott? You okay?”

“I will be once I find Gordon.”

“He’s on the pool deck, apparently studying. The meeting went well?”

Scott frowned. “Yes, a few small changes will make room for his training. Gordon was very happy with the plan.” Could explain the studying.

“That’s great news.”

“Yes, it is.” He wondered how happy John would be if he could see him standing in his underwear next to a shirtless Virgil.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Perhaps his brother didn’t need to see. “I’ll let you know after I’ve spoken to Gordon.”

“Okay. Remember fratricide is not an option.”

“Don’t spoil it for me.”

-o-o-o-

A clean pair of pants and two shirts later they found Gordon exactly where John said he would be. The sixteen-year-old was camped out on a pool lounger with a portable holoprojector, his tablet and even a print book open beside him.

“Gordon?” The strawberry blond head remained focussed on the tablet. 

“Gordon!”

Scott jumped. Hell, Virgil could yell when he needed to.

Gordon looked up calmly. “Virg? Something wrong?” Scott watched his little brother take in their state of undress. Neither of them had shoes on or had done up their shirts, just in case. “What are you guys doing?”

“What do you think?” He stepped down onto the pool deck, gesturing to his open shirt. “This is on you, and you know it.”

A blink. “Know what?”

Beside Scott, Virgil lost it. God, a tired Virgil was a cranky Virgil. “What did you put in our clothes?”

“Er, nothing?” Gordon appeared to realise he was tackling the family bear in a fury, a rare, but never good thing. He put down his tablet and stood up, backing away a little. “Now, Virg, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Another step back. “Uh, no. I really have no idea what you are talking about.” Pleading eyes darted to Scott.

If Scott wasn’t so tired, he might have found the whole reversal of roles between himself and Virgil somewhat ironic. As things were, he reached out and gently wrapped his hand around Virgil’s arm.

His hand only made it part way around one bulging bicep. When the hell had that happened? He tugged gently. “Virg…”

That resulted in a pair of furious brown targeting him. “What?! He could have caused a serious accident. What if it happened while I was up in the intakes? Whatever the hell he did, it was dangerous.”

Okay, so Virgil had a point.

Gordon held up his hands. “Honest, guys, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“So, you know nothing about an…irritant in our clothing?” Scott stared him down.

“Uh, no?”

He held his little brother’s expression a moment longer. It would likely have been even longer, but Gordon suddenly frowned.

And grabbed at his pants. “What the hell?”

Both Scott and Virgil stared as Gordon started dancing around the pool deck tearing at his clothes. His squawk turned into a giggle as he squirmed. “Omigod, stop!” The giggle became a laugh and Scott found himself holding back from joining in. Beside him Virgil snorted before running in to help their struggling little brother.

He needn’t have bothered. Gordon gave out an exaggerated laugh before throwing himself in the pool.

The sudden silence was almost shocking.

“Gordon!” Virgil stood on the side of the pool staring down at his brother under the water. Two strides and Scott was beside him as Gordon resurfaced, hair in his face, gasping and shirtless.

“Oh my god, that was hilarious!” He coughed out another laugh and threw his shirt onto the deck. “I want to know how you did that.” Gordon grinned up at them.

“We didn’t do it.” Virgil’s voice was sharp.

“Wha-? You’re kidding?” 

Scott shook his head as Gordon levered himself out of the pool.

“Then who? And how?” The swimmer shook the water out of his hair and coated his brothers in the process. At Virgil’s snarl, Gordon’s grin was unrepentant. 

Well, when he looked at it that way, there were only two possible choices and this was not a Brains concept in the slightest.

It was Gordon who said it first. “Alan? Where are you? That was so cool! You gotta show me how you did it!”

Scott didn’t expect an answer. He expected to have to hunt his little brother down like he had Gordon, oh, so many times. So, he was surprised when Alan slunk out of the kitchen with some kind of remote in his hands.

“Alan?” Virgil’s voice spoke of the shock Scott was attempting to process in his head. Alan was a good student. Precocious and bright, but far from the prankster his brother was.

Gordon bounced over to his little brother. “That was so cool! How did you do it?”

“Nanobots.”

“Nanobots.” The word fell from Virgil’s mouth. “You used medical technology for a prank?” 

Scott reached out and grabbed Virgil’s arm again. “Alan, explain yourself.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped. “Failed experiment for school.”

Scott blinked. “What?” None of this was making sense.

And suddenly he was shot with a pair of anguished eyes. “I only wanted to make you laugh!”

Scott stared.

The bicep under his hand wilted.

“Allie?” Gordon’s voice was curious, but soft.

Those blue eyes shifted to the fish. “They don’t smile anymore, much less laugh. So, I thought a little medical intervention might help.” And those hurting eyes flickered to Virgil.

The sound that issued from the engineer was heartbreaking.

While Scott’s brain was uncharacteristically caught in freefall, Gordon presented a parachute. “You made ticklebots?!” His amber eyes were wide with amazement.

As always, Gordon’s joy was infectious and Alan relaxed just a little, a small smile curving his lips. “Yeah, kinda.”

Gordon bounded over and grabbed his brother in a massive hug. “I am so proud!”

Scott let go of Virgil and took several of the steps between himself and his little eleven-year-old brother.

Gordon continued to gush, asking a range of technical questions with such enthusiasm that the small corner of Scott’s mind that was still functioning alerted him that this could be a bad thing for his future sanity.

But right now, he was fixated by those blue eyes, so reflective of his own that were staring up at him.

“Alan?”

Gordon stopped his babbling, but took up a defensive position beside his little brother. Something inside Scott bent and broke just a little.

But his focus was on Alan.

Those blue eyes looked down, breaking contact. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you laugh.”

“So, you tried to tickle us?”

Defiance shot those eyes back up. “Well, I wasn’t going to drug you, was I? Nothing else was working! You and Virgil are just so sad and busy and John is never here anymore and…and…no one laughs anymore!” A frown. Those eyes flickered past Scott and crumpled. “And you’re crying again.”

Scott turned and found Virgil struggling with his emotions, a tear running down his face. Aw, shit.

Alan turned away and took a retreating step, but a blur of red flannel and the youngest was swept up in desperate hug. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

A muffled “’s’not your fault.” But Alan was clinging to his brother like a life raft.

Scott blinked several times. The thought that his genius little brother had to resort to technology out of desperation to see a smile hurt somewhere deep down where he had buried his own tears.

An amber gaze saved him from drowning. Gordon stood on the other side of Virgil and Alan, his shoulders straightening. “So, Allie, can I borrow your bots?”

With that single sentence, the moment snapped with a chorused “No!” from the both eldest. Virgil tumbled backwards in his haste to stand up.

Gordon feigned innocence. “Why not? I have my own experiment to perform. You know, for mental health reasons.”

“No, Gordon.” Scott’s tone was full commander, but the fish just grinned up at him. Hell, he was caught wondering if Gordon would ever obey him.

“Gordon.” Virgil’s voice had that deep grumble of warning.

The fish shrugged and relented. “Eh, your loss. It was going to be brilliant.”

“Sure.” Scott’s tone dripped sarcasm.

“But!” Gordon grinned. “Allie wins the trophy for the concept and invention!” He wrapped an arm around his little brother’s shoulders. “I am so proud.”

Alan smiled up at the fish with appreciation.

Scott held out his hand and those shoulders dropped, the smile disappearing.

“Alan.”

More the reluctant and pouting tween he was, his little brother handed over the remote. Scott glanced at it before handing it off immediately to Virgil. The engineer would be able to make more sense of it than he ever would.

Scott held out an arm and blue eyes stared up at him for just a split second before dashing into the hug the eldest was desperate to give him. Both arms wrapped around Alan and he buried his face in blond hair. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

“’S not your fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. I will try to do better.”

“’S not your fault.”

A glance in Virgil’s direction only to find the big man fighting back tears again. Even Gordon’s expression was a little broken…until he realised Scott was looking at him, then the goofiest of grins split his face and he crossed his eyes.

The laugh that fell from Scott’s lips was almost strangled by a sob.

The devilry that suddenly appeared on that face overrode every other thought with mild fear.

Gordon didn’t disappoint. Sliding up behind a teary Virgil, he darted in and tickled their bear of a brother.

Virgil squawked and wriggle danced out of reach.

Scott couldn’t help it. 

He laughed again.

“C’mere, Virgie, I wanna ticklebot you!” Gordon exaggerated tickling fingers at his brother before jumping into what became a hilarious chase around the pool.

Scott couldn’t help but grin even more.

Alan outright laughed.

And something lifted just a little from Scott’s chest.

“Thank you, Allie.”

Surprised blue shot up at him.

“You’re right. We need to laugh more.”

Virgil ended up in the pool.

Gordon jumped in after him.

And Scott hugged his littlest brother so much closer.

-o-o-o-

The afternoon relaxed into together time. Phones rang but were ignored. John was dragged down from orbit. The barbecue was lugged out, food found and cooked for dinner and a comfortable feeling that had been absent since their father had been lost, found its way onto the Island.

Gordon cherished it.

Virgil continued to be a touch emotional during the entire time, grabbing random brothers and attempting to smother them with his arms. Scott was quieter, but even Gordon noticed he was far from Alan at any point that entire afternoon and evening. John was quietly puzzled about the whole thing until he suddenly grabbed at his shirt and jumped and jiggled about.

“Oh, so that’s how it works.” Virgil was staring down at the remote control in his hand, poking at it.

John let out a squawk and fell onto the couch writhing.

His shirt was thrown off moments later.

“Hey, Alan, how do you turn them off?”

Therein followed some discussion on Alan and Virgil’s part, followed by Scott and his two cents when he felt it appropriate.

John started yelling at them after a very short period of time, still writhing on the sofa.

Gordon thought it was absolutely hilarious and had trouble keeping his feet while laughing.

All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon and evening.

Scott fell asleep on the couch with his arm wrapped around a snoozing Alan five minutes into the movie Gordon had chosen. Virgil lasted another five minutes before caving into a faceplant on one of the cushions. His snores made it difficult to hear the movie, but the remaining three brothers cared not a whit. By the time John joined them in the land of the exhausted, the movie was little more than soundscape.

But Gordon wouldn’t have it any other way.

This was something that they had been missing for so long. Gordon sat there fake watching the movie and honestly holding back a few tears at the thought. Alan was right. They needed more laughter. His big brothers, John included, were shouldering so much now their father was no longer with them, and yes, his thoughts stumbled on that acknowledgement. God, he missed his dad. But they all had to do their part.

If there was something Gordon wanted to do, it was bring back the laughter. If it took itching powder and dye, if it took silly hats and fake tattoos, if it took everything he had, he would see his brothers happy.

They all had to do their part.

And he would make this his.

-o-o-o-