#As they did make it quite hard to make this post

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 8

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

Sadly, Max didn’t get to push George Russell of the track. Instead he accidentally hit Oscar in the first corner, which definitely hadn’t been on purpose…and also resulted in another penalty point and a 10 second penalty.

He was really done with this season.

At the same time, Charles carved his way up from P19 to P2 in which, what Max was pretty sure, could only be described as going on the warpath. Max was honestly just impressed at the speed with which Charles had managed to claw himself up to P2, and he would have applauded the effort if he hadn’t been so damn frustrated with everything else.

At this point, he just wanted to get the race done and over with and go home. He'd have time to worry about the penalty later - he just wanted to get this race over the finish line so that he could get a flight to Monaco and to Colette.

With that thought in mind, the last 12 laps went by in a blur, and it felt like no time at all until the checkered flag appeared.

For the first time all season, Max didn’t bother trying to push beyond the limit for an extra few seconds of time.Because quite frankly, it didn’t actually matter.

McLaren had gotten the constructor championship for the first time in 26 years.

"t may not have been the fastest race but I just wanted to say a big thank you for the season, guys. It hasn’t been easy at times, we still have quite a few things to improve on but we still won a world championship.  So, thank you for all the hard work the whole year," Max said into the radio. "Enjoy your time off and then we’ll go back at it again next year. Thank you, guys."

And now Max finally got to go home to Colette.

GP's voice came over the radio. "Get weighed and then we need you to come into the garage as quickly as possible, Max." 

Max furrowed his brows at the words. That was…odd. Why would he need to go to the garage immediately?

"Is everything alright?" he demanded. 

GP didn’t answer immediately, which did nothing to diminish Max’s worry.

His heart skipped a beat when the engineer finally responded, hesitantly. “Just come to the garage, please. Quickly.”He had wanted to apologise to Oscar about their incident in the first corner at the start, but that was quickly forgotten, at the tone in GP's voice.

It sounded alarmed and anxious, and that got Max's heart racing. Something was wrong, something was wrong, and he needed to get to the garage to find out what it was.

It took him an incredible amount of self-restraint not to outright bolt out of the car and charge into the garage, but he somehow managed to get out of the car, weighed himself in and all but dashed towards the garage.

"GP?!" he called out as he stormed into the garage. "What the hell is going on? What’s wrong? Why-"

GP was the one who dragged him into one of the side rooms, where no cameras would see the exchange that followed. There was Christian waiting, as well as his father. 

This wasn't good.

The sight was alarming enough to make him freeze. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

"I-” Max cut himself off, staring at the three men. "What- what's going on?"

"Colette is in labour," Christian answered. "Her brother Arthur texted me. Your pilot filed flight plans thirty minutes ago. There is a car waiting to take you to the airport."

For a moment, Max’s brain just froze altogether, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

His vision wavered as the words echoed in his head, and he had to reach out and grab a hold of the wall next to him as his legs tried to buckle.

He couldn’t have read those words right. There was no way - she had four more weeks. They had more time, Colette couldn’t be in labour.

But it was GP's voice that was cutting through the fog in his head. “Max.  Are you with us?”

Max had to take a deep breath, forcing his mind into action.

"Yeah," he heard himself croak out. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the airport. He had to get home as fast as he possibly could.

“We need to get Charles," he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it. I’ll pay whatever ridiculous fine the FIA demands. But if he finds out I left without him, he’s going to kill me.”

There was no doubt about that. 

Max was dimly aware that all three men were looking at him with varying levels of sympathy - but he didn’t care. He only had one thought in his mind, and that was getting to Colette as soon as goddamn possible.

"Gemma is getting him right now," Christian promised him. "I already talked with Ferrari...or screamed at them, that is more likely. So did Arthur apparently. I need to warn you though, the press is swarming outside, especially after your father's little interview," he said darkly.

"What interview?" Max asked, staring at his father. What interview were they talking about?!

"I talked to Sky News about your anger issues," his father said drily.

"Correction," GP snapped. "You told Sky News that Colette and Max are a couple and that their baby is due any day."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and they were like a punch to the gut. His father had done what?

"You told the damn media she’s having our baby?" he exclaimed, staring at the older man. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"No, I merely said it’s due any day," Jos snapped. "Not that it's actually on the way. Calm down, I only said it because you need to stop denying that you two are an item, it’s getting ridiculous!"

Max honestly didn’t even know how to react to the words. Normally, he would’ve been furious right now. His father had just gone and announced their private life to the entire world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that Colette was currently in labour…

"He also said and I quote It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough!" GP snapped, looking and sounding more furious than Max had ever seen him before. 

For a moment, Max almost choked and he whirled to his father, his eyes wide. "You-" the words got stuck in his throat. "We’ve been trying for nearly three years. Colette had two miscarriages!"

All of a sudden, the anger that had been boiling inside of Max just evaporated into thin air, leaving only cold, burning rage behind. He took a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling violently. "How. Dare. You," he spat. Even he was surprised how menacing it sounded, but he was also way beyond caring.

"You never said," his father said, nearly silently.

“Clearly I had a good reason,” Max bit out. “We lost two babies. And you are telling us that we took our time? How. Dare. You."

There was a flicker of something in his father’s eyes, which looked awfully similar to pain and regret, but Max was far too furious to care about some kind of guilt.

"You have no right-" he bit out, his voice trembling with anger, "No right to talk or say anything about-"

"It was already out anyway," his father defended himself.

The words made Max freeze again, and he slowly straightened, the cold fury rushing through his veins and making him feel lightheaded. He clenched his jaw, fighting to find the right words, even if he was pretty sure he was about to completely lose it.

“Another word. About her, about our baby. About either of them,” he snarled, his words low and dripping with venom. “ And I will have absolutely no problem with completely and permanently cutting you out of my life, vader.  You’ll be dead to me. To Colette. To our baby. Is. That. Clear? Colette is not something that we are going to negotiate about. It didn’t work when I was 15. It‘s not working now!"

Surprisingly enough, Jos didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was of Max’s ragged breathing.

He didn’t notice Christian’s worried glance in his direction, but GP’s low and quiet voice cut through his thoughts. "Max."

Max flinched, and he forced himself to get a grip. For a half a second, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at the people around him.

Finally, he straightened, forcing his legs to move and his mouth to form a response. “Yeah.”

“There is a car waiting. Go,” GP told him calmly. There really wasn’t any reason to linger, and if he were to say anything else, he was in serious risk of exploding.

Max took a deep breath and moved towards the door, the need to see Colette driving every thought out of his mind.

All the anger and adrenaline made it very easy to push through the hoard of reporters and journalists waiting just outside the garage, his mind laser focused.

There were cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, but he ignored them all. His only priority was to get to Colette.

At the same time as his single-minded determination helped him to power through the throng of people and reach the car waiting for him, his mind was also whirling with a thousand different questions.

What happens if the baby came right now? What if something went wrong? What if-

***

Charles had known that something was wrong. But then...he had been having that feeling for days. Colette was feeling anxious and scared and angry and a thousand other things and Charles would have known that she was feeling that way, even if he hadn't texted her. 

They had always known if something was wrong with each other. They had always known what the other one was feeling.

That had always been their connection…He loved his brothers more than anything. He did. But they weren’t Colette. They weren’t his twin sister. 

Two lives, two halves of one whole. He would never feel complete without Colette. 

Charles could always tell if something was wrong with his twin. And for days now, something had been very, very wrong.

And still he had soldiered on. He had dragged his car from P19 up to P3. Just behind Carlos...two podiums for Ferrari but not enough to clinch the constructor's championship.

He had only done so because he had known that Colette was never gonna let him hear the end of it if he didn't do his very best.

Just like she had been with him during that Formula 2 race less than 48 hours after their father had died…and she had told him to get into that damn car and race in circles, she had done the same this time. 

And he had listened. 

Of course, he had. 

Still...he had never been more thankful that a Race was over than he was of this one. He was just happy that it was over. 

He followed along to the cooldown room on autopilot, Lando already, then Carlos following after him.

The absolute drama that went down there next...well, it simply started with a commotion. And screaming.

The next things they knew, there was Camilla, PR from Ferrari, in what could only be described as a screaming match with Gemma from Red Bull...with security following along as Gemma more or less threw herself into the cooldown room, completely ignoring what anybody else was telling her. 

Charles stared, utterly bewildered. What the hell was going on here? 

Why was Gemma here, literally shoving her way into the cooldown room and throwing herself at him, security struggling to stop her?

"He deserves to know!" Gemma snapped at Camilla. "You cannot keep this from him! This is about his family. We have tried to talk to Ferrari, you are either ignoring our calls or telling us that there is no way you'll tell him until after the interviews are done. What is wrong with you?"

“What the hell is going on?” Charles managed to finally find his voice. What was happening? What were they talking about? What the hell was wrong with Ferrari? "Someone, anyone, give me an answer!"

The only person who seemed willing to answer was Camilla and the look on her face was completely unapologetic. "You are a Ferrari driver," she said simply, as if that explained everything. "There is nothing that goes on with you while you are driving that takes precedence over your job."

"He isn't driving now," Gemma snapped, as she turned towards Charles. "Your sister is in the hospital. Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco."

That got Charles' attention like nothing else would have done. In one second, he went from baffled confusion to absolute shock and alarm. His eyes widened, his heart beginning to pound as adrenaline and fear suddenly flooded his system. "She's...she's...what?" he asked hoarsely.

"In the hospital," Gemma repeated, giving him a pointed look.

"What happened?" Lando demanded suddenly. "Is Colette alright?"

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Charles choked out. 

With the baby. No. No. Not again. 

He had seen his sister utterly heartbroken twice about her two miscarriages. 

And these two miscarriages had been horrible. Heartbreaking. Devastating. Had destroyed her. But they hadn't been...They had been early on in the pregnancy.

They hadn't been after Colette had spent months pouring over baby name books and buying things for the nursery, after she had let him feel the baby kick in her belly...after...after all of this...

"What baby?!" Lando blurted out suddenly, but Charles ignroe that. 

"Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco," Gemma repeated. "But you need to come with me now, Charles.” 

"He's not coming with you!" Camilla snapped. "Charles has media obligations!"

"I don't give a fuck about my media obligations!" Charles snapped back at her. He was literally shaking with the sheer strength of his anger. "My sister is in the hospital! I am going. Now."

Charles didn't wait for a response. He was already headed towards the exit, his blood thundering in his ears as confusion and fear and anger raced through his body. The only thing that was going through his head was Colette was in the hospital, Colette was in the hospital, Colette. was. In. The. Hospital.

If anybody tried to stop him now, he would have absolutely no problem going straight through them.

"You are a Ferrari driver," Camilla growled.

"And," Charles snarled, whipping around to look at her. "I am a brother. And a twin. And she is my other half. She is in the damn hospital, and you tried to keep that information from me. What, did Ferrari think that I just wouldn’t care?"

That seemed to render her speechless for a moment, but only for a moment. "We believed," she said coldly, with an undercurrent of anger beneath. "That you would remain professional and focus on your job as you were paid to do so."

"Are you serious?" Lando snapped at that moment. "His sister is in the hospital and you want him to do interviews!?"

"I was not speaking to you, Norris," Camilla said, in a voice that could freeze water. "It is none of your business. We are trying to deal with a delicate public relations issue here that you don't understand."

"I have sisters too," Carlos snapped. "And you better believe that if one of them was in the hospital, I would be there too." 

"Go," Lando told Charles at that moment. "GO."

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door. There was only one thought on his mind. Colette.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[the-film-theory]

i like it. i really do. and BECAUSE i like it, im gonna read FAR in between the lines.

uh... buckle up? this was quite a long post. i had to put a keep reading thingy for people

i do like the differences between everyone else and the second coming.

his life obviously wasnt has traumatizing as literally everyone else in this drawing (alan with the torture he put his sticks through, the dark lord and his death, the chosen one and being, well, him, and victim being the first one to go through everything.)

not to say tsc's life wasnt traumatizing, but think about it

victim's powerless (we'll get into victim's thing later), tdl, tco, and alan all have destructive powers

tsc, on the other hand, has powers that create life. life. he creates life, he makes things for the sake of making it. he's given a soul to all the drawings he's made, and its shown through their body and face. that eel during the demonstration of tsc's powers in the testing lab is proof of soul in tsc's creations.

he's not just drawing things; he's giving them purpose. like alan was supposed to.

unlike alan, tsc doesn't hurt them; instead, learning from the rest of the color gang, he bonds with them; learns to care, learns to feel what he is described as: compassion.

while everyone else's descriptions are negative (and by extention, all start in/m), tsc's is completely different. which shows that, despite being made as the latest stick made from a traumatic line of sticks, he's the one with the most care and love.

but, what about victim? his description is different, too. he has three words instead of one. and while that might be because he's just hard to describe in one word, i'm just gonna read inbetween the lines. again. because i can.

as i stated before, victim, as we know so far, is powerless. he doesn't have anything like chosen or the dark lord or tsc. he doesn't HAVE any powers. he wasn't given any.

he was a normal stick figure used for torture by alan. of course, once he knows about the other sticks that alan made, and their powers, he's going to compensate for it.

and he already has. he stole a chunk of alan's drawing app. he took a piece of alan's "powers" and used it to create rocket corp. before he knew about the rest of the hollowheads, he was already compensating for a lack of something.

and that lack of compensating was a normal life. a chance at being, well, happy. because during his entire time with alan, he was tortured and killed and revived over and over. victim landing in the outernet was the start of a new life.

and by gods was he going to take advantage of that. i think that's why he's insult to injury (coming back to the three words instead of one) is all the things he did to recover and live life, all to have it ripped away from him. he saw chosen was the one to take away mitsi's life (from agent's perspective). way later down the line, he met tsc. he met the color gang (kind of. red, yellow, green, and blue were kind of through images and memories.).

and, if he were to look further back into tsc's memories, he'd see a family. a happy, found family. one that victim was having, until it was ripped away.

and that would hurt, it would cut deep. seeing alan being nice? that would just be the icing on the bleeding cake.

holy FUCK this was a long analysis post. i literally should be doing my homework. assignments are due tonight. whatever, im almost done lmao. thanks for reading, if anyone fucking cared.

food for thought

[sidestepsam]

hey this is so random but idk if yk the nakay girl on tiktok but she’s met the team a good amount of times and she just posting a video kinda saying she doesn’t really believe in pazzi.

what’s your opinion on that? she’s quite young so idk hahaha

This is a good opportunity to share my thoughts on this.

It is true that they do a lot of things that female best friends do with each other. They’ve also always called each other best friend, etc. so I can understand why a lot of people, especially if they’re not deeply into the lore, may truly think they’re just BFFs. That being said, there’s a very big difference between being unsure/not caring and being a denier. I don’t have an issue with people not being convinced they’re together, if anything I respect it because they’re just waiting for hard evidence. I do, however, have issues with deniers for multiple reasons:

1. It usually comes from a place of heteronormativity and or homophobia.

There’s a lot of people that see being straight as a must have in the mold of the perfect role model and I believe that is applied to Paige especially. Straight men also think this way but from a different perspective. Rather than being worried about them being role models, they’re in denial that P and A aren’t for them. Azzi also gets it because she’s conventionally feminine and a lot of ignorant people think that to be gay as a woman you have to be masculine.

2. It comes from a place of wanting to come of as morally above others.

This is what I think that chick is doing. I’ve never liked her, I think she has a weird parasocial situation going on to the point that she’s developed a weird sense of ownership. This girl knows them just as much as the rest of us do. She’s only met them in public, organized events that of course would not have any outwardly Pazzi situation happening. Literally two videos after that one she’s in literal tears over the game. Of course we all felt it, but to actually cry and film it? Be fr.

Lastly, and sorry if this is rude, but A LOT of these people are literal children. Even some of you on here I can tell are kids/teenagers. That age group knows nothing about reading romantic social cues especially when there’s gay undertones involved. They’ve also never been in relationships. It’s the same reason why they make entire love edits out of P & A looking at each other for 2 seconds and caption it as the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

All I’m going to say is that if P or A did exactly what they do with each other with a dude, absolutely no one would question that that dude was their bf. So in conclusion, we will see in 3 months (hopefully) who gets the last laugh 😭💀

[ampheenix]

What is this feeling, so sudden and new?

TAGS: Sonadow, 2k, post-Sonic 3, fluff & crack, that one trope where a character has a crush and thinks it's an illness lol

SUMMARY:

The surprise attack had taken Sonic completely off guard. He’d been wandering the old lab, gently placing a hand against the cracked glass of Shadow’s old containment pod, wondering just what had happened here…

Then out of nowhere, a gloved hand slammed Sonic against the tank, the impact rattling the glass behind him. A familiar thumb pressing painfully into his cheek, air knocked from his lungs, and the world seeming to narrow down to a single point- the weight and sheer strength of the hedgehog holding him in place.

That very moment was when the symptoms began.

Or, after Shadow survives the blast, Sonic finds himself saddled with strange symptoms. Heated cheeks, a racing heartbeat, dizziness…

There was only one possible explanation.

Sonic was allergic to him.

He had to be coming down with something.

Sonic was sure of it.

After miraculously saving the world, which was just a hair’s breadth away from total devastation, as per usual (with just a liiittle help from a certain ebony hedgehog), then going through the traumatic realization that the ebony hedgehog in question was dead after not surviving the blast, grieving for days only to come to the slightly less traumatic realization that no, he’s alive, he’s literally the Ultimate lifeform and crazy strong and why would you think he died in the first place-

Well. Needless to say, it had been… a lot.

But aside from the illness currently ailing Sonic, the aftermath of that whole incident had been surprisingly peaceful!

Tom had been healing up just fine, looking to make a full recovery (thank goodness), G.U.N had finally stopped trying to head-hunt them after they literally saved the world, and, well…

Shadow.

It had been quite the shock to everyone involved when the small, mournful eulogy they had been holding in honour of him was crashed by none other than the hedgehog himself. He did it all cool, too, walking in casually like it was just good ol’ regular game night and not, you know, his literal funeral.

He’d stopped in his tracks when he saw the tears welling up in Sonic’s eyes and the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “Did I… miss something? Why are you all so- oh. Right.” Shadow had realized, eyes widening.

Sonic had then barreled into him with all the grace of a falling piano, arms squeezing him tight and getting his fur wet with tears. He’d then jumped back, looking momentarily embarrassed as he scrubbed his arm across his face. “Where the hell have you been, Shadow?! We all thought you were dead, it’s been like- two weeks!”

“Vacationing.” Shadow had said dryly, only to get a hard punch to the shoulder. He’d moved his gaze to the blue hedgehog, confused. “That almost hurt.”

“This is no time for jokes, man!” Sonic had exclaimed, upset. Then he’d stopped, emotions temporarily on pause. “Wow. I never thought I’d be the one saying that.” Off to the side, Maddie couldn’t help herself as she let out a snort, exchanging a glance with Tom.

“But I wasn’t joking. I landed in New Mexico after the blast.” Shadow had stated, folding his arms. “I ended up paying Gabriella a visit while I was there, and she gave me a tour of the city.”

“Gabriella?!” Knuckles had thundered all of a sudden, racing over. His eyes were huge, looking at Shadow with uncharacteristic excitement. “You met her in the flesh? What was she like?!”

“Woah, Knucks, slow down a sec- who the hell is-” Then Sonic’s mouth dropped open, glancing from him to Knuckles and back again. Because there was only Gabriella he knew of that his brother would get this excited about.

“YOU WENT TO SEE THE GIRL FROM LA ULTIMA PASIÒN?!”

Everyone started laughing, and Shadow growled quietly, looking irritated. “Not intentionally. It was on the way, so I thought I’d stop by and remind her that she’s not a prize to be won. That she should be her own person.”

Sonic was full-body laughing now (though not unkindly) lifting a gloved hand to wipe a tear of mirth from his eye. “God, Shadow, you’re a riot! You do know they’re all actors, right?”

“I know that now.” Shadow had muttered, a bit embarrassed. It was almost cute, Sonic thought to himself absent-mindedly, the way he’d narrow his eyes and glance to the side, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

Then Shadow’s eyes had found the humans and their chortling, zeroing in on the tall man with his arm in a sling. Remembering the other reason he’d come (aside from seeing Sonic, of course), he inhaled, readying himself.

 He’d turned to the couple with his gaze on the ground, looking almost… guilty. “Tom?” He’d said softly, voice cutting through the light atmosphere in the room. Almost instantly, every eye was on them.

Tom stiffened, giving him a slightly suspicious look as he’d nursed his injured arm. He hadn’t really been wary of Shadow so far (mainly because Sonic had given them all the full story afterwards- considering the guy had helped saved the world, he hadn’t really held the injury against him. That and the fact that he was supposed to be dead.)

Shadow had winced at his rejection, almost imperceptibly so, but Maddie caught it. She had given her husband a gentle pat on his arm along with a smile. “Come on honey, hear him out.”

Tom had met her eyes for a moment, unsurprised- Maddie never did have the willpower to resist sad hedgehog eyes (and neither did he, to be fair.) Raising an eyebrow at her regardless, Tom turned towards him.. “Alright then… Shadow, was it?”

“Mmm.” Shadow had affirmed. Sonic and his brothers had watched them with curious eyes, wondering what was about to go down.

“I am… sorry, that you got hurt. It wasn’t my intention- I… I thought you were Commander Walters, the man who ordered for my imprisonment fifty years ago. But then the technology, the hologram- whatever it was, glitched out and it was only then that I realized my mistake. I apologize.” Shadow bowed his head.

Before anyone could say anything, he had lifted his head again, turned towards the door. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving everyone gaping after him. Sonic had called his name over and over, frustrated that he had disappeared so quickly (he still had so many questions!!), but the hedgehog had disappeared.

Fast-forward to a week later, where Sonic was pacing across the floorboards of his bedroom, mind racing. He was sure of it- Shadow had infected him with something terrible.

First off, the hedgehog was living rent-free in his head, and it was weird.

He spotted a red thing next to a black thing? His thoughts immediately jumped to Shadow.

Noticed a kid gliding around on rollerskates? Shadow again.

And every night when he went out to gaze up at a sky of stars, he couldn’t help but think about the soft words they had exchanged, when he and Shadow had been watching the sun slowly rise over the Earth.

“A light shines, even though the star is gone.”

And it wasn’t just that, oh no!

Whenever Sonic remembered those times they’d spent together... He’d start feeling oddly dizzy and warm, his heart would start racing, he’d feel a weird fluttering in his stomach, and strangest of all…

 He’d feel the strange urge to bury his head in his hands and roll around on the floor.

The first time he’d noticed the symptoms was during the battle- the one just before Shadow had attempted to vaporize them all with a black hole. (But hey, forgive and forget, right?)

The surprise attack had taken Sonic completely off guard. He’d been wandering the old lab, gently placing a hand against the cracked glass of Shadow’s old containment pod, wondering just what had happened here…

Then out of nowhere, a gloved hand slammed Sonic against the tank, the impact rattling the glass behind him. A familiar thumb pressed painfully into his cheek, air knocked from his lungs, and the world seemed to narrow down to a single point- the weight and sheer strength of the hedgehog holding him in place.

Sonic found himself stunned, eyes widened and his senses overwhelmed. His nose had filled with Shadow’s unmistakable smoky scent, a mix of ozone and gunpowder and something faintly metallic. It was a scent Sonic recognized instantly, one tied to lost battles, bruised limbs and tense conversations, but he’d never smelled it up so close like this- it was sharp, intense and almost.. intoxicating.

Shadow had practically reeked of fury and frustration, even more so than usual- distracted by the strong scent and too shocked to even attempt escaping his rough grip, Sonic was reduced to useless putty in his hands as Shadow tugged his head back and hurled him against the wall.

But that adrenaline, that zing of energy that always came with a surprise attack- it still didn’t explain the peculiar warmth in his cheeks when Shadow had hissed directly into his ear, roughly pushing his head into the glass to the point where he couldn’t move (and Sonic was strong, so that was not an easy feat.)

Before he knew it, Sonic found himself rolling around on the floor again with his head buried in his gloves, letting out a high-pitched squeal. What was with him?!

Sonic could tell his family had noticed too… he’d been quieter than usual, too lost in thought to infect the house with his usual contagious grin and razor-sharp wit.

Tails kept shooting him furtive glances when he thought he wasn’t looking, Tom and Maddie had been having more and more whispered conversations late at night (Sonic had caught his name being muttered more than once), and heck, even Knuckles was feeling the weird vibes!

Knuckles! That was how you really knew something was wrong.

It didn’t help that Shadow still hadn’t shown his face in the week since his funeral, not even to say hi, which was just plain rude if you asked him! What kinda guy showed up at his own eulogy, claimed he was ‘vacationing,’ and then just… disappeared?

The mysterious illness… the symptoms only seemed to appear whenever Shadow was involved, so could it be that- wait, no, that was just silly.

But it made too much sense…  Sonic’s antsy pacing slowly petered to a stop as his eyes widened, his mind racing.

He had to be allergic to Shadow. That was the only possible explanation.

Sonic was sure of it. But, well, just to make sure-

“Tails!! Tails!!” Sonic raced down the stairs, taking them three at a time before skidding to a stop right next to his brother. Tails glanced up at him from where he was watching TV with Tom and Maddie. But where was- ah. Sonic’s ear twitched hearing Knuckles rustle around the kitchen- probably hunting about for grapes.

“Sonic?” Tails said, understandably confused. “What is it?”

“If you’re planning another adventure, I hope it can wait another five minutes.” Maddie smiled sensibly, sounding a bit sleepy from under the blankets where she was cuddling with Tom. “Bluey’s about to start.”

“Oh! Wait, really?” Sonic paused, indecisive. On one hand, he’d wanted to ask Tails to give him a quick medical checkup with his scanners. You know, just making sure he didn’t have some other strange disease- that would prove once and for all that his allergies were tied to Shadow, right?

“You should watch with us!” Tom smiled, patting the empty couch cushion next to him. “Though there isn’t much blanket left, thanks to Maddie…” He shook his head at her, bundled up in the fluffy blanket with a shameless grin.

But on the other hand… “Which episode is it?” Sonic asked pensively, this information vital towards his final decision. Chances were, it was one he’d seen a million times-

Tails grinned, knowing they’d won. “The 80s one.”

“Sold.” Sonic said instantly, and in the blink of an eye he was nestled on the couch with them. Hey, it was his favorite episode! Sometimes you just had to prioritize- he could investigate the allergies afterwards.

Knuckles re-entered the room from the kitchen, holding a large bowl of fresh green grapes (as Sonic had predicted). He then stopped in his tracks seeing the blue hedgehog on the couch, frowning. “Hedgehog, you stole my spot.”

“What can I say? You snooze, you lose!” Sonic grinned, sinking further into the couch cushions and making sure to get extra comfortable.

“I will not stand for this disrespect.” Without missing a beat, Knuckles walked over and easily lifted him up with one hand, other hand holding the bowl, before unceremoniously dumping him on the other side of the couch.

He then sat down to tuck into his grapes, sending Sonic a triumphant grin of victory as he did so. The others all snickered, Tails trying his best not to laugh as he gave his brother a consoling pat on the shoulder.

Sonic just rolled his eyes with a good-natured sigh, accepting his fate. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be petty about it- he scrambled over everyone (getting some annoyed groans as he did so) in order to steal some grapes from the Echidna, swiping them quick as a flash before he was back on the other end of the couch.

He nibbled on them with relish, grinning at Knuckle’s sour expression. Hey, these were juicy! Yum.

Sonic settled in to watch TV with his family, and his mind definitely didn’t keep drifting back to Shadow, over and over again.

And that night, when he gazed up at the galaxies and stardust swirled across that inky expanse, he absolutely didn’t hear Shadow’s soft, gentle words echoing in the back of his mind. Nope. Not even once.

…Allergies were really the worst.

If you enjoyed, feel free to leave a kudos on ao3! <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62019349

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[mikefrawley]

snowangelsoul

It is possible to keep some of our innocence. It's part of your nature, Mike, & that makes you a beautiful soul.

sherrylephotography

Beautiful 💖

ends-2-beginnings

Love this. 💝

Kindness Greetings my dear friends, and thank you to everyone who's been kind to anyone today. I just wanted share a litle bit on how blessed we actually are. Here on Tumblr we can and do share both love and kindness with our friends, mutuals if you prefer, and even our beloved *moots all aroubnd the world. Just for a small example, as some of you already know, I'm 66 and my lungs are definiitely not pleased with the abuse they received from my unhealthy lifestyle over far too many years. I'm not looking for sympathy, but I have COPD and have to take it a little easy. Now you'll either love or laugh at this next part. I go to my Chen Tai Chi Class four mornings a week, and to the gym the other three. Trust me, it's not always easy, but I will NOT quit for as long as I do not lterally have to. I know at one or time or another all of us go through hard times, and I pray none of you will quit either. No matter what any of us may face today, please rember we are alive, and this day at least, we could ask for nothing greater! Okay, back to kindness. This morning at the gym I suddenly started coughing and it did not want to stop. I was having difficuly breathing and had to leave and go straight home. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper, but the kindness of a few friends including the ones shared above, helped me get back to a good place. Thank you and love to all, Mike 🩷 *MY VERY KIND FRIEND @snowangelsoul added "I love my moots" to one of her posts, and while I figured it was something very good, I still had a what the censored is that moment. 😂 I looked it up and moots is a very affectionate slang for mutuals, and yes, even us old people can still learn sometimes. 😊

[solarsturniolo]

ik you've been critical of the triplets before (breath of fresh fucking air tbh)

wanted to know what you thought about the whole mallory situation? she made a tiktok saying she was concerned about their physically aggressive behavior and how she didn't think it was right that they would act like that, and they responded to her tiktok in a friday video. idk i certainly have thoughts but i wanna hear yours if you're ok with sharing them

Oh i was waiting for this one.

To start, THIS IS NOT A HATE POST. But it is something that needs to be said. I’d also like to clarify that i’m not trying to ‘clock’ anyone in this post. This is not meant to spiral out into another episode from them or their fans, but if they aren’t going to be good role models for young impressionable children, I will.

First and foremost, absolutely nothing about the way matt reacted in that video was okay. He is 21 years old, he is a grown adult that pays bills and taxes. He should not be laying his hands on anyone in an aggressive matter, even if they are just brothers. Whether you agree or not, that was abuse. Here is the Oxford dictionary definition of the word abuse, for those of you who need clarification.

Now of course, including content like that in a video is an option. And it was an option that they decided to take. Nick DID NOT have to leave that in the video, and if he hadn’t it wouldn’t have caused so many issues. What gets me the most is that some part of him KNEW it was too much because he edited half of that moment OUT of the video. We saw the extended clip through their photodump that shows just how obnoxiously aggressive Matt’s tantrum was. Not only did he hit Nick (quite hard and in a very vulnerable spot), but he also took a gift that Nick had gotten (gag gift or not, it doesn’t matter) he threw it onto the ground and told him to go and pick it up. The average person knows better than to behave that way, and it was very alarming to see that behavior from someone that we all look up to.

This led to a large divide in the fandom. Some people were (understandably) very uncomfortable with Matt’s behavior. And some people defended it with their lives. Now i’m not saying me and my sisters never fought, but we don’t lay our hands on each other. Idk maybe im out of touch with some new-found sibling abuse agreement or something, but we don’t hit each other. We argue, we get mad at each other, we fight and we make up.

Personally, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling out your idols when they do something wrong. At the end of the day, we’re all human and we all make mistakes. It’s easy to forget that when you let fame and money get to your head, making you feel invincible because you know your bandwagon of 13 year olds are going to be at your every beck and call. It’s our job as supporters to remind them that mistakes are okay, but accountability still needs to be taken for actions like that.

When you are in a position where you pay your bills by posting your private life on the internet, you cannot get angry that people are going to have comments and opinions about the stuff that you post on the internet…Nick made a comment in yesterdays video about how people need to mind their own business, but…you…willingly posted…that clip to the internet. For millions of people to see. Nick did not have a gun to his head while editing that video, he did not need to include it but it was a decision that he made.

One reason why i don’t watch them anymore is because they refuse to take accountability for anything that they do. They have also been drawing this out much longer than they needed to. The fanbase would’ve talked about it for a week and forgotten about it with the next friday video. The only reason why it’s still getting attention is because they so badly want to seem ‘unbothered’ by it but they keep bringing it up in everything they do. Matt’s instagram story, his comment on Nick’s recent post, their recent tiktok…literally anything that they have posted in the past week and a half, Matt and Nick just CANNOT HELP THEMSELVES from making a snarky comment. It’s a very icky trait to have imo but i’ll keep my mouth shut on that (since it’s illegal to have opinions in this fandom.)

Personally, I think Mallory was valid in her opinion and responses. Maybe terrifying was a strong word to use, which she has addressed, but it’s not like the boys don’t use hyperboles ALL THE TIME. And nothing about her video was her trying to “cancel the triplets”, she was simply sharing her concerns with Matt’s behavior.

The fanbase LOVESSSS to jump to conclusions. Most of us that had an issue with Matt’s behavior were not trying to cancel them. We’re frustrated because they’re grown adults who refuse to take any constructive criticism or accountability. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, the boys dislike ANYONE who is NOT AN ENABLER. Especially Nick. They LOVE an enabler that doesn’t call them out on their crappy behavior.

Back to yesterday’s video, I was VERY unimpressed with their responses. Snarky comment after snarky comment, only proving more and more that they aren’t unbothered by the situation because they’re trying so hard to prove a point. Why not stay silent like you do with everything else? Your ‘friend’ (who you still communicate with but won’t publicly hang out with) who was cancelled for contacting minors? Didn’t have much to say about that did you? But the second something makes them look bad, they jump the gun and go right into defense mode. It’s so funny to me because people would respect them so much more if they just took some accountability, reflected on their actions, and made a change to their behavior.

Including her tiktok in their video was yet another choice they made, and it was a very immature one. You cannot tell me they didn’t think about the outcome of this situation. Singling out ONE PERSON’S VIDEO, putting a target on their back, and opening the gates for these 13-15 year old hellspawn brainwashed sturniolo cult fans to go and cyberbully someone for having an opinion (and a respectful one at that.)

Also trying to blame Chris and saying Matt was ‘provoked’ into hitting Nick???? Chris made a simple comment??? And this is NOT the first time Matt has gone overboard in a reaction he’s had to one of his brothers. He’s had many outbursts, all of which ARE concerning. Throwing things aggressively, hitting, punching, cussing your brothers out on camera…it’s fucking humiliating???? I am so sorry to break it to you all but nothing about that interaction was Chris’s fault AT ALL. So for Nick to pin it on his younger brother, i found it absolutely ridiculous.

And, to sum it up, Nick did not ‘clock her’. I’m sorry but his responses when people call him out always remind me of a middle schooler. He refuses to take any accountability. HE edited the video. HE kept the clip in. HE posted the full clip on their instagram. NICK STURNIOLO DID THAT. HE DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT.

Can’t wait for reacting to hate comments part 2!!! Because, let’s face it! This isn’t hate, it’s the truth. I’m not an enabler and apparently that makes me a hater.

And yes, they over-do the drama for our entertainment, but they’re so much more entertaining when they’re all getting along?! Even if they have an argument, it’s far more entertaining when they aren’t hitting and kicking and punching. I genuinely think their emphasis on the physical aspects of their videos came straight from the tea party video, because it’s just gotten worse and worse since then.

I haven’t watched them in months and decided to watch that video and it was a clear reminder as to why i don’t watch them anymore. This is not a hate post, i will always be grateful for their videos because they’ve gotten me through some of the darkest moments of my life. From abusive relationships, to losing a loved one to suicide, to the loss of a childhood pet, to losing my job, to trying to take my own life…I am beyond grateful for their videos and I always will be. That being said, i think they have some serious maturing and reflecting to do if they want to continue to grow at the speed they were growing at a year or two ago.

Yes i think Matt is a sweet guy. No i don’t think he meant anything serious by hitting nick. The point is that it does make some of us uncomfortable to see that behavior from a grown man because so many of us have experienced abuse. I’m not saying we’re weak or snowflakes for our responses either. Posting your outbursts on the internet for 6-7 million people to see is a choice, and you cannot expect it to come without consequences.

[th3mrskory]

Chapter 2: A New Begining

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan

Warning: none. Just a slow burn (I promise it will be worth)

Word count: 7.6k

The first night in the cottage passed in a haze. She didn’t unpack much—just a quilt and a pillow to make the lumpy couch tolerable. Exhaustion clung to her, but sleep came in fits and starts. Every creak of the old house startled her awake, and the unfamiliar quiet wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. There were no city sounds to fill the space, no neighbors talking through paper-thin walls. Just her and the whispers of the forest beyond the cracked windows.

When morning came, it brought light that crept hesitantly through the dirt-streaked glass, casting long shadows across the floorboards. She sat up slowly, her body stiff from the couch, and stared at the room around her.

It was a mess. Dust coated every surface, cobwebs clung stubbornly to the corners, and the air smelled faintly of mildew. But this was her mess, and for the first time, that didn’t feel so bad.

The first thing she did was clean. There was no ceremony to it, no grand plan—just an overwhelming need to make this space livable. Scrubbing the windows became her first priority. The grime that clouded the glass blurred her view of the outside world, and with every stroke of the cloth, the light grew brighter, sharper. It felt like wiping away the fog that had settled over her life.

Next came the floors, their creaks and groans a constant reminder of the cottage’s age. She swept and scrubbed until her arms ached, until the scent of lavender soap replaced the stale air that had lingered when she first arrived. The work was hard, and every movement sent protests through muscles she hadn’t used in months, but it grounded her. Each small accomplishment—the gleam of the newly cleaned kitchen counters, the way the sunlight finally warmed the floorboards—felt like a step forward.

As the day stretched on, her thoughts wandered to the life she had left behind. The ache of betrayal still lingered, but here, in this little cottage tucked away from everything, it didn’t seem quite so sharp. The solitude wasn’t something to fear. It was space. Room to breathe.

By the time the sun began to set, she was covered in sweat and dust, her body demanding rest. She sank onto the couch again, this time with a mug of tea she had brewed on the cottage’s ancient stovetop. The sound of the river beyond the woods whispered faintly through the open window, a soothing backdrop to the crackling of the fire she had started in the hearth.

The cottage was still far from perfect. There was so much left to do—repairs she didn’t know how to make, corners she hadn’t yet touched. But as she sat there, wrapped in her quilt, staring into the flickering flames, she felt something she hadn’t in weeks: peace.

This house wasn’t a clean slate, not yet. It was a work in progress. And maybe, just maybe, so was she.

Sunday arrived with the chime of the church bell echoing through the quiet streets of Clearwater. It wasn’t the kind of morning she would’ve imagined for herself a few weeks ago—no hurried rush to get ready, no busy streets filled with strangers. Here, the world seemed to move slower, and for once, she didn’t mind.

She had planned to keep to herself, but the church bulletin board was how she’d found the cottage, and Pastor Edwards had been kind enough to help her settle in. Attending Sunday service felt like the least she could do.

The little white church stood proudly at the center of town, its steeple rising against the pale blue sky. Inside, the wooden pews were worn but polished, and the air smelled faintly of aged hymnals and lavender sachets tucked into the corners. She slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to remain unnoticed, but her presence didn’t go unnoticed for long.

After the service, Pastor Edwards approached her with a warm smile. “Good to see you here, Evelyn. How’s the cottage treating you so far?”

She returned his smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s... a work in progress. I’ve got the cleaning under control, but there are a few things I’m going to need help with. The porch, the plumbing…” She trailed off, feeling a little self-conscious about airing her problems.

The pastor nodded knowingly. “It’s an old place. Built to last, but it’s seen its fair share of years. I’ll ask around for you. See if anyone’s willing to lend a hand.”

A group of townsfolk lingered by the doors, chatting and casting curious glances her way. Pastor Edwards noticed and gestured toward them. “Why don’t I introduce you? Best way to feel at home here is to get to know the people.”

Before she could protest, he led her over, his booming voice breaking through their chatter. “Everyone, this is Evelyn. She just moved into the old cottage by the river.”

The townsfolk greeted her warmly, their curiosity softened by genuine kindness. She exchanged pleasantries, learned a few names, and politely answered their questions about where she came from and why she’d chosen Clearwater.

“You’ll love it here,” one older woman assured her. “Quiet, peaceful, and we’re a helpful bunch when you need us.”

“Actually,” Evelyn said hesitantly, glancing back at Pastor Edwards. “I could use a bit of help. The cottage needs some repairs—the kind of work I can’t do myself. Do you know of any handymen in town?”

The pastor’s expression shifted slightly, his smile turning a touch more cautious. “There’s Logan,” he said after a moment. “He works with the logging company, but he’s good with tools. Knows his way around repairs.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, relief washing over her. “Do you think he’d be willing to help?”

Pastor Edwards hesitated. “He’s not... much of a people person,” he admitted carefully. “Keeps to himself, mostly. But if anyone can convince him, it’d be me. I’ll ask him next time I see him.”

She nodded, grateful for his kindness but curious about the man the pastor spoke of. A handyman who wasn’t good with people? It was an odd description, but for now, it was enough. She’d take whatever help she could get.

The drive back from church was quiet, the kind of silence that was more a companion than an intruder. The dirt road curved through the woods, the sunlight filtering through the branches in fleeting patterns that played across the windshield. It was peaceful, but her thoughts weren’t.

The brief conversation with Pastor Edwards lingered in her mind. “He’s not... much of a people person,” the pastor had said. It was a strange way to describe someone. Most people were either kind or curt, polite or brusque. Logan, apparently, was none of those things—or maybe all of them at once.

She was so lost in thought that the sudden jolt of her truck made her gasp. The vehicle lurched, its engine coughing out a metallic groan before it stuttered and died. She gripped the wheel tightly, guiding it to the side of the road as it rolled to a stubborn halt.

“No, no, no.”Climbing out, she inspected the vehicle with a growing sense of frustration.With a resigned sigh, she sitted on the dirt road.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the road, and the forest seemed to close in around her.

The sound of an approaching engine broke the stillness, a low rumble growing louder as a pickup truck rounded the bend. She glanced up, squinting against the glare of the headlights as the vehicle slowed to a stop just behind hers.

The man who stepped out moved with a quiet confidence, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached. Broad shoulders filled out a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms streaked with sawdust. His face was sharp, framed by dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, and his eyes—sharp and unreadable—held hers for just a moment longer than she expected.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice rough, carrying an edge of concern that didn’t quite match his guarded demeanor.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just a little setback.”

“Looks like more than a little setback.”

She bit back a retort, her pride bristling under the weight of his assessment. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Right,” he said dryly, crouching down to inspect the damage anyway. His movements were deliberate, his hands steady as he examined the undercarriage. After a moment, he straightened, brushing his palms against his jeans. “Your axle’s shot. You’re not driving this anywhere.”

Her shoulders sagged, the weight of the day settling heavier on her. “Great,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Just what I needed.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment. “You live nearby?”

She hesitated, reluctant to share too much. But then she remembered Pastor Edwards’ words: He keeps to himself. “The cottage by the river,” she said finally, gesturing vaguely down the road.

Recognition flickered across his face, subtle but undeniable. “Figured you were the new tenant,” he said. “The pastor mentioned you.”

“Of course he did,” she said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Small town, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replied. He nodded toward her truck. “Grab what you need. I’ll give you a lift.”

She hesitated again, her pride and practicality at war. Finally, practicality won. “Thanks,” she said, retrieving her bag before climbing into the passenger seat of his truck.

As he started the engine, he glanced at her. “Logan,” he said simply, offering his name without ceremony.

“Evelyn,” she replied, studying his profile as they pulled back onto the road.

The drive was quiet, save for the low rumble of the truck and the occasional creak of its suspension. She couldn’t help but steal glances at him, her curiosity growing with every passing second. There was something about him—an intensity that seemed to vibrate just beneath the surface, like a tightly coiled spring.

When they reached the cottage, Logan parked the truck at the edge of the driveway, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as the engine idled. She climbed out, pausing to sling her bag over one shoulder before turning back to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

He gave a slight nod, his expression steady and unreadable. “I can take a look at your truck,” he said after a beat, his tone straightforward but not unkind.

She hesitated, unsure if the offer was out of convenience or obligation. “You don’t have to,” she replied carefully, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I know,” he said simply, his gaze meeting hers for a moment before shifting back to the windshield. “But it’ll save you a trip into town. Up to you.”

His words were practical, but something about the way he said them—low and even, without any trace of expectation—made her relent. “Alright,” she said softly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll call my buddy that has a tow.” he replied, his tone final.

“Okay. Tomorrow morning,” she echoed, stepping back from the truck.

He nodded once more, putting the truck in drive. “See you then,” he said, his voice carrying just enough weight to linger as he pulled away.

She watched the taillights disappear into the woods, the sound of the truck fading into the quiet of the evening. There was something about him—something steady and solid, yet distant—that stayed with her as she turned toward the cottage.

For now, she told herself, it didn’t matter. But as she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it did.

The next morning arrived with a chill in the air and a pale haze of dawn spreading through the trees. She pulled a cardigan over her shoulders as the hum of an engine broke through the quiet. Logan’s truck rolled up her driveway, followed closely by a rusty tow truck that looked as worn as her own.

Logan stepped out, his movements deliberate, the crunch of gravel under his boots louder than the low rumble of the trucks. He gave her a nod, his face unreadable as usual. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, her voice soft against the brisk air.

The tow truck driver climbed out and gave a brief wave before getting to work. Logan stood back, arms crossed, watching the process with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

“Thanks for arranging this,” she said, her fingers tightening on the mug of coffee she held.

“Needed to get it off the road,” he said simply. “Truck like that needs careful handling. Old axles don’t forgive mistakes.”

His words felt practical, not critical, but something in the way he said them made her feel exposed—like he saw more than she was ready to share.

“Well, it’s not much, but it’s mine,” she replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone.

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting hers before shifting back to the truck. “That’s what counts.”

The tow truck driver had the vehicle secured in her driveway with a few well-practiced moves, stepping back to dust off his hands. Logan approached her then, his expression as steady as his voice.

“She’s old, but it’s not hopeless,” he said, jerking his head toward the truck. “I’ll need to get under the chassis tomorrow, but the axle can be salvaged.”

A small surge of relief lightened her chest. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his confidence simple and unassuming. He turned to the driver, exchanged a few quiet words, and handed the man a couple of bills. The driver tipped his cap before climbing into his own truck and pulling away, leaving the two of them alone.

Logan stepped closer to the truck, crouching down again to check the undercarriage. His hands moved with an ease that spoke of long familiarity with this kind of work. “It’s seen better days, but it’s solid,” he said, more to himself than to her. “This kind of thing doesn’t give up easily.”

She didn’t know if he was talking about the truck or something else, but the words settled over her in a way she didn’t expect.

He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans, and looked at her again. “I’ll bring the tools by tomorrow morning. Don’t try driving it until then.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she replied, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. “Good.”

As he turned to leave, she found herself hesitating, unsure if she should say something more. “Logan,” she called after him.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Really,” she said, the words carrying more weight than she intended.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable but steady. “You don’t owe me a thanks,” he said simply before climbing into his truck.

The engine rumbled to life, and she watched as he drove away, the sound fading into the quiet of the woods. Left alone in the stillness, she looked back at her cottage, her truck, and the faint trail of dust left by Logan’s departure.

Something about the moment—about him—stuck with her, like the faint imprint of his voice still hung in the air. There was a steadiness to him, a quiet strength she hadn’t realized she needed until now.

She stepped back inside, her coffee mug still cold in her hands, and let herself wonder for a moment what it was about this town—and the people in it—that already felt so different.

The next day came quietly, the morning sky painted in soft hues of blue and gray. She spent most of it tidying the kitchen, organizing what few things she had unpacked. The routine was calming, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the man who had promised to return.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into her driveway just as the clock struck ten. She stepped outside to greet him, brushing her hands on her jeans, trying not to seem too eager.

“Morning,” he said, pulling a heavy toolbox from the bed of his truck. His tone was as steady as ever, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Without wasting any time, Logan set the toolbox down beside her truck and crouched to get to work, his movements precise and methodical. She lingered nearby, unsure if she should offer help or leave him to it.

“You don’t have to stand there,” Logan said after a few minutes, his voice calm but direct. “This might take a while.”

She crossed her arms, the hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t mind. Besides, I might learn something.”

His mouth twitched, almost a smirk, before he returned his focus to the truck. “Suit yourself.”

For a while, the only sounds were the faint clink of tools and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. She watched him work, noticing the quiet confidence in his movements. His hands were sure and practiced, every action purposeful.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Long enough,” he replied without looking up.

“Do you like it?”

He paused, wiping his hands on a rag, and glanced at her. “It’s quiet. That’s all I need.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by the simplicity of his answer. “I guess I can see the appeal,” she said softly. “It’s a lot quieter than what I’m used to.”

Logan glanced up again, his gaze lingering this time. “City girl?”

She gave a small nod. “Born and raised. This is the first time I’ve lived somewhere like this.”

“Why’d you come here?” he asked, his voice even but not prying.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the hem of her sweater. “I needed a change,” she said after a pause, her tone guarded. “Something different.”

Logan didn’t press her. Instead, he nodded and returned to his work. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it felt more like a truce, an agreement to leave certain things unsaid for now.

An hour later, Logan stood and dusted off his hands. “Your axle’s patched for now,” he said, his tone practical. “Should hold up, but you’ll need a proper replacement soon.”

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, stepping closer. “Really, I can’t thank you enough for this.”

He shrugged, already packing up his tools. “Not a problem.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted, brushing her hair out of her face. “I’d feel better if I paid you for your time. You’ve already done so much.”

Logan paused, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he said, “You’ll pay me when I’m done.”

Her brow furrowed. “When you’re done?”

He nodded toward the cottage. “Place like this? You’ve got more than a truck that needs fixing. If I’m coming back to work on it, might as well settle it all at once.”

She blinked, surprised by the offer. “Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of trouble.”

Logan’s expression didn’t change. “Trouble’s part of the job.”

A small laugh escaped her, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Alright. I guess I’ll owe you, then.”

“You will,” he replied simply, closing his toolbox.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice softer now.

Logan gave her a slight nod, his gaze lingering just long enough to make her heart stumble before he climbed into his truck. “I’ll be by tomorrow to check out the porch,” he called through the open window.

Before she could respond, the engine roared to life, and he was gone, the sound of his truck fading into the woods.

Left standing in her driveway, she looked at the now-functional truck and then at her cottage. For the first time since moving here, she felt a flicker of something more than just survival—a tentative hope that maybe, with a little help, she could start building a life again.

The next day, she decided to head into town for groceries. Her cupboards were mostly bare, and while the cottage’s solitude was soothing, it lacked the essentials to make it feel like home. The small grocery store sat on the corner of Clearwater’s main street, its weathered sign swaying gently in the breeze.

Inside, the aisles were narrow and crowded with goods that seemed frozen in another decade. A bell chimed as she stepped through the door, drawing the attention of the clerk behind the counter—a woman in her late forties with sharp eyes and a kind smile.

“Well, you must be the newcomer everyone’s been talking about,” the woman behind the counter said warmly. 

“I guess word travels fast here,” Evelyn replied, grabbing a basket.

“It does,” the clerk said with a chuckle. “I’m Nancy. How’re you settling in?”

Evelyn smiled politely, picking up a basket. “It’s been... a change, but a good one. The town’s been welcoming so far.”

A few other customers—older women browsing the shelves and a man flipping through a newspaper near the counter—turned their attention to her. One of the women spoke up. “Oh, you’re the one fixing up the old cottage by the river, aren’t you? Brave thing, taking on a place like that all by yourself.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a work in progress, but it’s starting to feel like home. Had a little trouble with my truck the other day, though. Luckily, Logan stopped to help me out.”

At that, the room seemed to pause. The man with the newspaper lowered it, the clerk straightened, and one of the women in the aisle actually turned to face her fully.

“Logan?” the Nancy echoed, her tone edged with disbelief.

“Logan Howlett?” added the woman in the aisle, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, Logan,” she replied, glancing between their surprised faces. “He patched up my truck and even offered to help with some repairs around the cottage. Why?”

The clerk exchanged a look with the man at the counter before leaning forward again and letting out a low whisle. “Are you sure it was Logan who helped you? Tall fella? Always looks like he’s in a bad mood?”

“That’s him,” she confirmed, starting to feel self-conscious under their scrutiny.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man muttered, folding his newspaper. “Doesn’t sound like the Logan I know.”,the man said, his tone edged with curiosity.

“I’d say,” the woman in the aisle chimed in, shaking her head. “He keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much. Not the type to go out of his way for anyone.”

“He didn’t seem unfriendly,” she said carefully, setting a loaf of bread into her basket. “Just... reserved. He was kind, in his own way.”

Nancy leaned over the counter, her curiosity evident. “Reserved is one way to put it. Man’s been in this town for years, and he barely speaks to anyone. You must’ve caught him on a good day.”

Sensing the conversation turning into speculation, she smiled politely and changed the subject. “The cottage is keeping me busy. Between cleaning and figuring out repairs, I haven’t had much time for anything else.”

“Good for you, dear,” the woman in the aisle said, though her curiosity lingered. “It’s a nice town. Quiet. You’ll find your rhythm soon enough.”

“That’s all I want,” she admitted, her tone softening. “Just peace and quiet. I’m not looking for anything more than that.”

“That’s probably for the best,” the older woman said kindly. “You’ll love it here. It’s a quiet town. Peaceful.”

Nancy handed her the receipt, her curiosity fading into a smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right place for that. Folks’ll let you be, though they might talk your ear off first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evelyn said with a small laugh.

As she stepped out of the store, the cool air wrapped around her. As Evelyn loaded the items into the passenger seat, her mind lingered on their reactions to Logan. They’d spoken about him as though he were an enigma—someone unknowable, even to the people who’d lived here for years.

Driving back to the cottage, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Logan really was. Reserved, yes, but there had been no malice in his quiet demeanor. 

The next morning came with a crisp chill that seeped through the windows of the cottage. Evelyn had spent the early hours tidying up, though she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to make the place look presentable. It wasn’t like Logan would care about the half-unpacked boxes or the persistent layer of dust clinging to the baseboards. Still, there was something about the prospect of having him around that made her want to at least look like she had things under control.

True to his word, Logan’s truck rolled into the driveway just after nine. She stepped outside as he climbed out, toolbox in hand and the same calm, unreadable expression on his face.

“Morning,” he said, nodding briefly as he approached.

“Morning,” she replied, crossing her arms to keep the chill at bay. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured vaguely toward the road. “Don’t you have work? At the logging company, I mean. Or do you make house calls full-time now?”

It was meant to be playful, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously.

“Not due there ‘til later,” he said simply, crouching down to inspect the porch steps. “Figured I’d get this done first.”

“Efficient,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

He glanced up, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Something like that.”

The faint exchange felt oddly satisfying, like breaking through the first layer of ice. She lingered on the porch as he worked, watching the way his hands moved with practiced precision. The hammer in his grip looked like an extension of himself, every strike deliberate, every movement efficient.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Like what?” he replied without looking up.

“The logging company. The work.”

He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag as he considered her question. “It’s a job,” he said finally, his tone neutral.

She tilted her head. “That’s not exactly a glowing review.”

Logan’s mouth twitched again, but this time, it was closer to a smirk. “Pays the bills. That’s all that matters.”

“Fair enough,” she said, leaning against the railing. “You’re good at this, though,” she added, nodding toward the step he’d just finished reinforcing.

He shrugged, already moving on to the next. “Picked it up over the years. Comes in handy.”

“I can see that,” she replied, watching him work for a moment longer. “Still, I feel a little bad. Seems like you’ve got better things to do than fix up my mess of a house.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling as he glanced up at her. “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

The bluntness of his answer caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words.

“Well,” she said finally, clearing her throat, “I appreciate it. Really.”

He gave a small nod, returning to his work without another word.

As the morning wore on, she brought him a glass of water, which he accepted with a quiet “Thanks” before drinking it in a few quick gulps and setting the empty glass on the railing. She noticed how little space he seemed to take up, despite his broad frame and commanding presence. Logan moved like someone who was careful not to disturb the air around him.

“You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you with this place,” he remarked after a while, stepping back to assess the repairs.

“Tell me about it,” she said with a dry laugh. “You should’ve seen the kitchen before I attacked it with a bottle of bleach.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the door. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she said with a grin.

Logan didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly—an almost-smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You didn’t have to take it on,” he said after a moment, his gaze briefly flicking toward her.

She shrugged, resting a hand on the railing. “Felt like the right thing to do. A new place, a fresh start... or something like that.”

“Fresh starts don’t come easy,” he said, returning to his work. His tone wasn’t dismissive, but there was a weight to his words that made her wonder if he was speaking from experience.

“They never do,” she replied softly.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the porch looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood, brushing sawdust off his jeans, and nodded toward her.

“That’ll hold for now. You need anything else, let me know.”

“Do you always offer your handyman services, or am I just lucky?” she teased lightly, though there was genuine gratitude in her tone.

“Depends who’s asking,” he replied, his tone even but not unkind.

Her brows lifted slightly at his response, but she chose not to push further. Instead, she smiled and said, “Well, thanks again. Seriously.”

He nodded once more, then headed back to his truck. As the engine roared to life and he drove away, she found herself standing on the newly-repaired porch, her thoughts trailing after him.

Logan was an enigma, no doubt about it. Reserved, distant even. But there was something about his quiet presence that felt grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. It was as though he carried a steady gravity that made the world around him feel less chaotic.

She leaned against the railing, watching the horizon where his truck had disappeared. For now, she told herself, she didn’t need to figure him out.

She had enough to rebuild already.

The day passed quietly after Logan left, the cottage settling back into its usual rhythm of creaks and whispers. Evelyn spent the afternoon unpacking more boxes, though her mind kept wandering back to their conversation. His words had been sparse but weighty, each one carrying a subtle truth she hadn’t expected.

By early evening, her curiosity won out, and she decided to take a walk by the river. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows across the forest floor. She followed the worn trail that wound behind her cottage, the faint rush of water growing louder with each step.

When she reached the riverbank, she stopped, taking in the sight of the glassy water reflecting the gold and orange hues of the setting sun. It was peaceful, almost otherworldly in its stillness.

But even here, Logan lingered in her thoughts. The way he’d paused when she’d asked about the logging company. The almost-smile that had flickered across his face when she’d mentioned the kitchen. And the way he’d said, “If I had better things to do, I wouldn’t be here.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration—far from it. But the simplicity of his words had stayed with her, as though they meant more than he’d let on.

She crouched near the water’s edge, picking up a smooth stone and running her thumb over its surface. The town’s reactions to him echoed in her mind, too—the disbelief that he’d helped her, the quiet curiosity when she’d mentioned his name.

They didn’t know him, not really.

And neither did she.

The next morning, Evelyn made another trip into town. She needed groceries, but more than that, she wanted to get a better sense of the place—the people, the rhythm of life here.

The grocery store was small, its aisles narrow and cluttered but charming in their own way. She moved slowly through them, taking her time as she filled her basket with the essentials.

“You’re back,” Nancy, the clerk, said warmly when she approached the counter.

Evelyn smiled. “Looks like I’ll be a regular here.”

“Good,” Nancy replied, ringing up her items. “We like having new faces around here. How’s the cottage coming along?”

“It’s getting there,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve still got a lot to do, but I’m making progress.”

Nancy nodded approvingly. “I saw Logan’s truck heading that way yesterday. He helping you out?”

“Yeah, he fixed up my porch,” Evelyn said, her tone casual.

Nancy’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did he now?”

“Is that surprising?”

“A little,” Nancy admitted. “He’s not exactly the helpful type, if you know what I mean. Keeps to himself, mostly.”

“That seems to be the consensus around here,” Evelyn said, her curiosity piqued.

Nancy leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s a good man. Just… guarded. Don’t take it personally if he doesn’t say much.”

“I won’t,” Evelyn said with a small smile.

As she loaded the groceries into her truck, her mind lingered on Nancy’s words. Guarded. It was a fitting description, though it didn’t explain the flashes of kindness she’d seen in him. The quiet patience in the way he’d fixed her porch. The faint trace of amusement in his voice when she’d joked with him.

Driving back to the cottage, she glanced at the road ahead, wondering how long it would take for the mystery of Logan Howlett to unravel—or if it ever would.

When she pulled into the driveway, her gaze landed on something unexpected. Neatly stacked against the side of the house was a pile of freshly chopped firewood. She frowned, stepping out of the truck and approaching the stack.

It hadn’t been there that morning, she was sure of it.

Her first thought was Logan, though the idea surprised her. He hadn’t mentioned anything about firewood. He hadn’t said much of anything, really. But who else could it have been?

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she ran her fingers over the rough surface of the logs. It was a simple gesture, but it felt... deliberate.

Inside the cottage, she lit a fire in the hearth, the warmth spreading slowly through the room. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she watched the flames flicker and crackle, her thoughts drifting back to him.

She wasn’t looking for love, or even connection. Not here. Not now. But Logan’s quiet presence had a way of grounding her, pulling her focus from the chaos of her past and planting it firmly in the present.

For now, that was enough.

The third morning after their encounter, Evelyn had settled into the rhythm of the cottage—cleaning, organizing, and slowly shaping the space into something livable. The day was crisp, the air sharp with the scent of pine when a steady knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it to find Logan standing on the porch, toolbox in hand, his familiar unreadable expression in place.

“Morning,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“Morning,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Logan stepped inside, glancing around briefly before setting his toolbox down near the kitchen. “Figured I’d get the cabinets done,” he said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a hint of amusement. “You know, for someone who doesn’t seem to like people all that much, you sure go out of your way to help.”

He paused, turning his head slightly toward her, though his hands stayed busy unpacking his tools. “You saying you don’t need the help?”

“No,” she admitted, her voice softening. “I’m just saying it’s unexpected.”

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he crouched to inspect the cabinets, his broad shoulders filling the small space beneath the sink. “Unexpected doesn’t mean unwelcome,” he said finally, his tone low but even.

She blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He didn’t say them like they were meant to be comforting, but they landed that way regardless.

As Logan worked, Evelyn busied herself around the kitchen, though her eyes often wandered back to him. There was a certain ease to the way he moved—calculated, deliberate, as though every motion had purpose.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” she asked after a while, her voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Logan didn’t look up. “Do what?”

“Fix things for strangers.”

He paused briefly, his hand tightening a bolt on the cabinet door. “You’re not a stranger,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “I’m not?”

“You’re part of this town now,” he replied, moving to the next cabinet without looking at her. “That makes you not a stranger.”

The corners of her lips twitched into a faint smile. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

“It’s just the way it is,” Logan said, his voice steady.

She watched him for a moment, her curiosity growing. “Well, either way, I feel like I owe you. For the cabinets, the porch, the firewood...”

Logan glanced at her briefly, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “You’ll pay me when I finish everything that needs fixing.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, and something about it made her decide not to push further.

By midday, Logan had made significant progress, the cabinets now sturdy and functional. The kitchen felt less like a relic of the past and more like a space she could actually use.

“Lunch?” she offered, gesturing to the small table where she’d set out sandwiches and coffee.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, wiping his hands on a rag before sitting across from her.

The silence between them was comfortable, the soft hum of the radio filling the space as they ate. Logan’s gaze drifted briefly to the stack of boxes in the corner, but he didn’t comment.

“Moving in isn’t as glamorous as it looks,” she said, following his gaze.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in a rush,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.

“I’m not,” she admitted. “After everything that happened... I think I just need to take my time.”

He nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful but guarded. “Makes sense.”

She hesitated, then asked, “You ever feel like that? Like you need to step away from everything for a while?”

Logan’s gaze met hers for a brief moment before he looked down at his mug. “More than you’d think.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning she didn’t press him to explain.

By the time Logan packed up his tools, the kitchen looked sturdier than it had in years. He stood by the doorway, his toolbox in hand, and gave her a brief nod.

“That should hold for now. I’ll check the roof next time,” he said.

“Next time, huh?” she said with a faint smile. “Do I need to schedule you in, or should I just leave the door unlocked?”

“Depends,” he replied, his tone carrying the faintest hint of humor. “You planning on giving me more work?”

Her smile widened slightly. “I’m sure I can find something.”

Logan’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smirk, but he didn’t let it settle. “See you around,” he said, heading to his truck.

As the engine roared to life and he drove away, Evelyn lingered on the porch, watching until the truck disappeared from view.

For someone who claimed not to like people, Logan Howlett seemed to go out of his way to help her. And for someone who claimed not to need help, she was beginning to realize how much his presence steadied her.

The thought stayed with her as she turned back toward the house, the faint smell of sawdust lingering in the air.

The following days passed quietly, the steady rhythm of her routine broken only by the occasional creak of the cottage or the distant sound of the river. Though the repairs Logan had done made a world of difference, there was still so much left to tackle.

True to his word, Logan returned a few days later, his truck pulling into the driveway with the same low rumble she was beginning to recognize. This time, he was inspecting the roof—a task she was more than happy to leave entirely in his hands.

From the safety of the porch, she watched as he climbed the ladder, his movements deliberate and practiced.

“Find anything up there?” she called up, shading her eyes from the midday sun.

“Leaky spots,” he replied, his voice carrying easily over the breeze. “Couple shingles need replacing.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Could be worse,” he said, crouching to examine the roofline. “At least it’s not caving in.”

“Well, there’s a silver lining,” she said dryly, though her tone carried a hint of humor.

Logan glanced down at her briefly, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement before he returned to his work.

As the afternoon wore on, Evelyn busied herself in the garden—if it could even be called that. Overgrown weeds and tangled ivy spilled over the edges of a weathered stone path, and she’d decided it was time to tame at least part of it.

She was crouched near the base of an old oak tree, pulling stubborn roots from the soil, when Logan’s voice startled her.

“You planning to fix that up too?”

She looked up, brushing her hair out of her face to see him standing a few feet away, his toolbox in hand.

“Eventually,” she said, gesturing to the mess around her. “It’s on the very long list of things to do.”

He nodded, setting the toolbox down near the porch. “Looks like it’s been a while since anyone’s touched it.”

“More like decades,” she replied, straightening and wiping her hands on her jeans. “But I guess that’s what I signed up for.”

“Not many people would,” Logan said, his tone matter-of-fact.

She tilted her head, studying him. “What about you? Ever think about fixing up a place like this?”

He shrugged, leaning against the railing. “Not really. I’m not much for settling down.”

The words lingered between them, heavy with a meaning she couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” she said finally, forcing a small smile, “good thing I’m not asking you to move in.”

Logan huffed softly, a sound that might have been a laugh, before picking up his toolbox again.

By the time the sun began to set, Logan had finished patching up the roof, and Evelyn had managed to clear a small patch of the garden. The quiet hum of the forest filled the air as they stood on the porch, the fading light casting long shadows across the yard.

“Thanks again,” she said, her voice softer now. “I know I keep saying it, but... I really mean it. This place would probably collapse around me if it weren’t for you.”

Logan shrugged, his expression as steady as ever. “You’re doing most of the work. I’m just keeping it from falling apart.”

“Still,” she said, meeting his gaze, “I appreciate it.”

He nodded once, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than usual before he turned toward his truck.

“Logan,” she called after him, her voice stopping him mid-step.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“You said you’re not much for settling down,” she said, her tone careful. “But... why stick around Clearwater, then? What keeps you here?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze shifting to the treeline in the distance. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.”

Her breath hitched at the weight of his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

Before she could find the right thing to say, Logan nodded again and climbed into his truck. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone, leaving her standing on the porch, the quiet settling around her like a heavy blanket.

That night, as the fire crackled softly in the hearth, Evelyn sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap. The cottage was quiet now, save for the occasional groan of its old frame and the faint murmur of the river beyond the trees.

Logan’s words echoed in her mind. Sometimes it’s easier to stay where people already expect you to be alone.

She hadn’t known what to say to him then, and even now, hours later, she wasn’t sure she had an answer. But his honesty had left a mark, stirring something deep within her—a recognition of the weight they both seemed to carry in silence.

Her gaze drifted to the stack of firewood by the hearth. She hadn’t mentioned it to him, hadn’t asked if it was his doing. Somehow, she didn’t need to. The gesture felt like an extension of who he was—quiet, steady, always keeping his distance but still leaving something behind.

The faint glow of the fire bathed the room in warmth, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of contentment. It wasn’t happiness, not yet. But it was something close to it—a fragile sense of being grounded, of starting to rebuild.

As she sipped the last of her tea, her eyes grew heavy, the day’s work and lingering emotions finally catching up to her. She let herself sink into the cushions, the blanket pulled tighter around her shoulders.

Tomorrow would bring more work, more repairs, and, if she was lucky, another visit from Logan. Not that she’d admit she was looking forward to it—not even to herself.

For now, the fire burned steadily, the cottage standing strong around her, and the quiet of the night felt more like peace than loneliness.

With that thought, she let her eyes close, the rhythm of the river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

_______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

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© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[rhenuvee]

The Secret Menu [Diluc x reader]

Summary: Diluc's love for you is overflowing, so he wants to find a way to show you... [established relationship]

A/N: Happy new year everyone! Manifesting positive vibes and good health for you all! Sorry for the inactivity again, I am trying to post and interact more but clearly it's difficult aaa

Warnings: Old draft... just trying to get rid of it so sorry if this is cringe and rushed

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"...What's your favourite drink?"

Diluc asks this one evening you decide to accompany him at the Angel's Share. You're in a safe spot, closest to him of course. He was thinking about something for quite a while- something to surprise you with.

"My favourite drink..?"

You didn't think anything of the question, though you were curious when you saw Diluc's expression- deep in thought, yet spaced out. You give it some thought and he listens attentively as you talk about the drinks you like: You ramble about the sweet fruit juice which was your first drink Diluc gave you at the Angel's Share, the milky drink you had that quenched your thirst on hot days, a flowery drink you had in Liyue that soothed your stomach...

A week passed, and you felt like Diluc was busying himself more. You decided to visit him again at his work, but surprisingly he approached you with a task.

"Could you try these for me?" He places four small glasses in front of you, with the same coloured liquid in them.

"Oh! Is this going to be on the menu?" You ask while examining the liquid curiously before trying them.

"S-Sort of." He replies. He places a glass of water to reset your tastes after each one, as well as a tissue just in case. How sweet, you think, smiling at the thought of his care for you. However, you don't expect even more sweetness when you try each one, the subtle differences on your tongue.

"Mm, they're all really good 'Luc~" He relishes in your delighted expression, eyes closed and smiling for the taste of the drink he made. But just this once there's something else he's anticipating. He waits patiently for your comments as you think of what to say. "Three has a thicker texture, while two has more sweetness from the fruit you added. I'm not sure which one patrons would like more, though..."

"Which one do you like, my love?" Diluc smiles at how sweet yet honest you were with your feedback. But your opinion is what he needs.

"Me?" You ask. And suddenly you feel a hint of something different in the way the asks you this with softness. The way he looked at you so lovingly- well he always does, but it felt like the same look he gave you when he held you close at night, soothing you before finally falling asleep. Or when he arrived with flowers for you when you go on dates. "I like this one the best, but maybe with a bit more of the fruity flavour."

Diluc only quietly nods and immediately gets started on the change you suggested. It is from this response that you wonder what's got him distracted- or rather what he's puzzled about. You've come to know that this is the face he makes when he is thinking hard about something.

"Why do you ask...?" You subtly ask, almost as a whisper. You didn't want to intrude in case this was a secret. You so soft that you weren't sure if he heard you and if you should repeat it. But Diluc always hears your voice. He turns to you, and gives the new and improved drink without saying a word. You're too occupied with the anticipation of the new taste, so you don't notice the blush slowly rising on his cheeks and his furiously beating heart. You take a sip and your eyes widen.

"It's perfect." You blink with a smile, giving him the positive note that he's made it the best.

"It's for you." He says softly, looking at you dearly. He relishes in the moment that your mouth subtly hangs in an O-shape, expressing your surprise.

Yes, your favourite drink. He wanted to make something for you. However, he couldn't paint pictures as good as his father did. Though he can cook, he doesn't think he'll master dishes as well as Adelinde and the other maids. And Diluc would absolutely kill for the ability to make you a piece of jewelry, but his hands are too coarse, he thinks. Not delicate enough to make you something of quality- something perfect for you. He wants to make something from his own hand- that showed his love. And so...

"You made a drink for me?" You repeat in a question, starting to feel emotional. Your hands instantly feel the need to pull your lover closer, and he notices as he complies with your movement, leaning toward you and letting you hook your arms around his neck.

Diluc gives a soft but slow nod, but it's all that's needed to convey his confirmation of love. You share a quick kiss, letting your lips submit to the rhythm he guides you with. His large hand comes over to smooth against the skin of your cheek, then grazes behind your ear. You both pull back, relishing in the short and sweet moment, unable to stop the smiles on your faces.

Though you've been together for a while, you always appreciate his thoughtful gestures and how he reaffirms his love for you more and more. You love the drink Diluc made for you, but most of all, you love him.

════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ════

[iguessitsjustme]

My Favorite BL of 2024:

Is it 4 days after the new year? Yes. Am I making this a tad bit late. Probably. Do I care? Nope. Doing this for me.

These are my top 10 shows that aired and finished in 2024. I did have to whittle it down from around 20 and that was hard. But this is the list. But first.

Honorable mentions:

Love in the Big City - watched on Viki.

The reason this is not in the list of top 10 BL is because I categorize this as a queer story instead of a BL. It's missing the typical BL tropes and style, but it was damn good. After I watched it, it sat with me for awhile. It's still sitting with me. It was tough to watch at times, but it was worth it for me and I enjoyed it a lot.

I Hear the Sunspot - watched on Gagaoolala.

The same reason this did not make it into the favorites. This show is not a BL to me. Yes, it features a queer love, but that is not the focus nor is it the point of the show. This is a show about communication and acceptance and growth. The romance is secondary to all of that. The romance is used as a way to show the communication and acceptance and growth for multiple different characters.

The On1y One - watched on Viki.

This show. This SHOW. So good. I am scared we will never get a second season. The reason that this show is not on the list is because we didn't quite get to the romance yet. I truly hope we get more but I don't know if my heart can take it. Oh it was such a good show though. This show was one of my liveblogs (I promise I'll finish posting them at some point).

Now, on to the list in descending order of my favorites:

10. Century of Love - watched on Gagaoolala.

Listen. This show had some issues BUT listen. I am a sucker for a reincarnated lovers story. And I have been waiting my entire life for a show to do reincarnated lovers but they came back as a different gender. I loved the twist this show pulled by making it not certain if Vee was actually the reincarnation of Wat. I love when things get left up to the interpretation of the audience. I love that it also didn't matter because what mattered is that San chose Vee. He didn't need soulmates, he needed choice and that is what the show gave him.

9. Wandee Goodday - watched on YouTube.

I can't really explain why I loved this show so much except that I really loved both Yak and Wandee. Yak was such a green flag throughout the show and Wandee was actually very good at communicating his boundaries. It was refreshing to see. I wish it had handled certain things better, but overall this show was something I looked forward to a whole lot every week.

8. At 25:00 in Akasaka - watched on Gagaoolala.

This show felt weirdly calming to me. The way that all of the characters moved throughout the world was so calming. Shirasaki and Hayama are perfectly balanced. I love how they love each other. It took them awhile to get there, but once they did, it was so wholesome and delightful.

7. Deep Night - watched on IQIYI.

POLY. This show gave us canon poly. Did we get enough of them? No. Alas they were the sides. But it made me so incredibly happy. The leads were great too. Wela and Khem had wonderful communication the entire way through the show which was super unexpected in a show like this. This show also did not hold back on the heat. But the main reason I love this show so much (other than the poly) is just how supportive everyone ends up being of everyone. It was wonderful to see. This show was one of my liveblogs.

6. Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart - watched on IQIYI

Yes, yes I know. I was pretty vocal in my critiques of this show (well vocal for me). But despite my issues with it, I really loved this show a whole lot. I love anything involving a heist and they really went and made it gay. God bless. Joke has become one of my all time favorite characters. I liked that this show tried something new. It gave us something new and something interesting. It was intriguing and it was fun. It was an absolute joy to watch and post about and it was the show that I probably felt the most in community with other people watching. I love YinWar for giving us this show and putting so much of their hearts into it. It was obvious how much everyone involved cared.

5. We Are - watched on IQIYI

It should surprise no one that this show is on my list. First of all, TanFang. My absolute favorites. But this show was so slow and so calm. There was such little conflict it basically was nonexistent. It was exactly what I needed. The summer months are always hard for me mentally and this show was a nice break for my brain. I loved all of the couples. Some of the couples definitely had pacing issues but I still love them. It was a delightful show and sometimes I just want a show that I can trust will greet me like a friend each week.

4. My Stand-In - watched on IQIYI

I love my toxic boys. Ming you absolute disaster. This show was a RIDE. I couldn't get enough. Joe was such a good person and the whole story is bonkers and Ming was a walking talking red flag and still I was rooting for him. I also loved how much effort the creators put into this show. I don't think I've ever seen so much analysis done of character's backs in my life. It was GREAT. I want a million more shows just like this. We all deserve it.

3. Monster Next Door - watched on Gagaoolala

Just like We Are, this show greeted me like a friend each week. I could count on this show to feel like a warm hug. God and Diew are quite literally the cutest of all time. God was the biggest green flag we have had in awhile, if ever. I mean, no one truly did it like him. That man literally went out of his way to make sure Diew wouldn't even see his face until Diew was ready for it. The only sin this show ever committed was not getting Khun Shy a proper tank. I know that it wouldn't have fit with the aesthetic or whatever, but I was stressed. This is a show that I imagine I will be rewatching at least once a year if not more.

2. Unknown - watched grey first then on Viki

It was soooo hard not to put this as number 1. This show was everything to me when it was airing. I actually found a translation of the book to read online after the show finished airing because I did not want to be done. The way Yuan loved Qian was absolutely wild but my god I loved it. Watching Qian learn to reciprocate Yuan's feelings but also to let himself finally be taken care of was fantastic. I loved their whole family dynamic. I loved the friends. I loved how hard each character worked, not just at life but they all worked hard at love. All types of love. Unknown really told us that love is not always easy and sometimes it is the hardest thing to do, but it is worth the effort. And it also gave me the scene of Qian chasing down San Pang while Yuan sat back and laughed. Iconic.

Love for Love's Sake - watched on IQIYI

This is the only show that could take the #1 spot for me. It was the show this year. It aired last January and I am still thinking about it and how much I love it. Myungha is undoubtedly one of my favorite characters. Something about him just spoke to me, the way I'm sure his character spoke to a lot of people. Everything about this show from beginning to end was executed flawlessly (in my opinion) and I cannot stop thinking about how it said that even the worst most unlovable parts of yourself are worth loving and actually they aren't the worst and the aren't unlovable. It might be hard to love those parts of yourself, but it's so easy to love them in someone else. And they will love them in you too. This is a show that I would absolutely love a physical copy of so I can force everyone I know to watch it.

Sorry for how long the post is. I chose not to include screenshots mostly because I'm lazy and now I'm glad because this is already very long.

[themindcastlesystem]

Beyond the Veil of Hypocrisy... lies chapter 2 (theory)

(Sunny, they/she) okay so this might be my first proper post on this site but we all gotta start somewhere lol

BACKGROUND

In the book of Genesis, Eve was tempted by the serpent (Satan) into committing the first sin. Adam followed suit, and God punished both of them by expelling them from the Garden of Eden and revoking their immortality.

In Project: Eden's Garden, Eva was tempted by her distrust of others (encouraged by Damon, who wears a tie with a snake on it), and she committed the first murder. She was executed - leaving Eden's Garden Academy, so to speak.

So... what happens next?

THE KILLER

Well, Eve convinced Adam to join her in committing sin, right? She took the forbidden fruit from the serpent, ate it, and gave it to Adam. So Adam committed the second sin. But Adam - Damon - is our protagonist here. That can't be quite right.

But I don't think he's going to stay the protagonist much longer. He experienced a much more condensed version of the type of development arc experienced by a protagonist like Shuichi Saihara [v3] - and he rejected it at the end of the chapter. While it is possible that he might continue to resist his primal urges to distrust others, I don't think it's likely - he already had to be pushed out of his comfort zone so much just to consider that Diana might not be the killer in chapter 1, and now his only confidant - Eva - is dead, and on top of that, Diana is still trying to emulate Wolfgang, who both he and Eva firmly believe was leading the class to destruction. "I couldn't hold back my true feelings anymore"; "it pissed me off".

Unless a miracle happens in the midst of this murder game and Damon manages to find other people to trust (not excluding Diana, though it's not likely), I don't think he's going to keep going down the path he started on in chapter 1. The first murder happening means that the chapter 1 festivities (game tournament, co-op laundry, bunk buddies) won't happen in the same manner, and if they do, it'll be through bated breath. If he already had to be pushed so hard just to play some games with the group before anyone died, it'll be ten times harder afterwards. (Naturally, this isn't to say that I think Damon is incapable of trust or kindness - giving or receiving - and in fact, I heavily empathize with him in some ways. But old habits absolutely die hard.)

In essence: Damon is my prime suspect for the chapter 2 blackened, and I don't think he will be the protagonist any further.

THE DETECTIVE

What then? Well, we just heard a very protag-y speech from someone at the end of the chapter, didn't we? It's what pissed Damon off: Diana's "like a chameleon, I will adapt!"

Diana has already had a great spotlight within chapter 1, and she has shown the makings of a leader. She's bright, kind, and energetic; people tend to like her; she adapts to the various situations that come her way. She is trusting of others, arguably too much so, but yet she comes across as mostly level-headed. Her youth hinders her, as she struggles to read the room and is reprimanded for this, but she tries to show the same compassion than Wolfgang - much more organically than he did, in multiple situations. She is emotionally intelligent, able to perceive when others are unwell and offer them genuine care.

Yet, she isn't a natural in her role. When she was forced to bear witness to her friend's death, and everyone and the evidence are against her... much like any normal person, but unlike a protagonist, she breaks. She is traumatized, barely able to speak and holding back tears. She struggles to tell the others what happened to her, even as they seem ready to unanimously send her to her death. It is the kind deed of the actual protagonist that snaps her out of her catatonia enough to tell her side of the story and help lead everyone to the truth.

But I believe Diana has still yet to shine.

BIBLICAL CANON...

Diana is specifically very reminiscent of a Danganronpa protagonist, too. She has one of the most classic DR-esque designs of the cast with her school uniform, her faith in others resembles that of Makoto Naegi [THH], and her personality is reminiscent of Kaede Akamatsu [v3]. While the team behind Project: Eden's Garden has been clear that players should not expect DR tropes to take place in the game, and it can be argued that an early-game protagonist switch would essentially be a parallel to v3, I argue that it's more of a subversion of expectations.

In v3, we start off playing as a lively girl with a kind spirit and a good head on her shoulders, who becomes a natural leader for the cast. She resorts to murder to try and stop the mastermind, completely unexpectedly to everyone around her (including the player, if they don't pick up on the hints that she's up to something). Her death is treated as honorable by the rest of the cast, and she is replaced by more of a typical DR protagonist: a sullen boy with heavy emotions on his heart and a tendency to distance himself from others. His attachment to her helps him carry on her legacy by learning to believe in himself, working with others, and surviving the killing game.

...VS. INTERPRETATION

In my prediction of P:EG chapters 1-2, we start off playing as a sullen boy with distrust on his heart and a tendency to distance himself from others. He is pushed out of his comfort zone quite a lot by the rest of the cast, and he ends up exploring, doing chores, and playing games together with the rest of them... but someone is killed anyway. Then, when another student he doesn't care for comes under fire for the murder, he challenges his base instinct to assume her guilt, instead figuring out an argument that there's more to the story and it can't be her. (Whether it's a logical or emotional argument doesn't matter as much as it seems, as he initially doesn't realize the logical issue and just feels something is wrong; that said, I do like the pathos route much more for this reason.) He is beginning to learn to trust people... until it turns out that his only friend was the killer, and she not only took advantage of him and emotionally manipulated him, but ends up trying to frame him and get him killed. All the while, the person who she initially framed was a lively girl with a kind spirit and a good head on her shoulders, trying to be a leader for her classmates in spite of everything, but being completely shut down by everyone else.

I think that unlike Shuichi, Damon's development is temporary and about to fully regress, and Diana may be a very good friend, but she isn't a universally loved natural leader like Kaede. So, similarly, I think their character arcs will be reversed entirely: Damon will stop trying to trust people and resort to murder, and Diana will have to prove herself as a leader and source of encouragement over an extended period of time. At the same time, where Shuichi retained his affection for Kaede after her death, even knowing she had killed someone, Diana will have to let go of her feelings of affection for Damon to see that he has given up on her (and the others) and become a killer. And yet, she will have to fight on - she has no choice but to live. She won't give up on her friends like Damon and Eva did, and she won't excommunicate them like Wolfgang did. And, even after realizing that her friend not only never trusted her but is a murderer, she will reconcile that with her positive memories of him - accepting that Damon was a complex human being that was put in a despicable situation... and, much like Eva before him, even though he committed one of the worst sins imaginable, he didn't deserve to die at the hands of this killing game's "God".

MARGINALIA

Imagine how much of an uphill battle Diana would be up against Damon if she had to prove he was the killer. He's hand-cranked to be good at debating people, even if he doesn't have the upper hand logically. While Damon has been rigidly logical so far, as is typical of a murder mystery detective, debaters also have tactics like "spreading" - talking so fast the opponent can't process their argument or get a word in - up their sleeves. This tactic is especially useful when the facts aren't on your side and you need to regain control of the room without resorting to obvious ad-hominem and losing favor. (Like Eva did when cornered in chapter 1: "he does want bloodshed!")

Also, this has nothing to do with the theory proper, but I want to give an honorable mention to Grace Madison for making for a good chapter 2 suspect as well. She became friends with Wolfgang, slept with him, and then he fucking died the next morning and she had to guard his dorm room so no one would disturb his belongings. God forbid Tozu cleans out his dorm in chapter 2 to boot. Girl is GRIEVING, and I think people will suspect her out of pure emotion even if she ends up nowhere near the next crime scene.

Anyway, who knows if I'm ever gonna post again on this site. But to anyone reading, I hope you enjoyed this theory, and give me your brain thoughts! Hyperfixation go brrrr

[twst-aceofhearts]

Chocolate

a/n: the bonus fic I was talking abt in my post - more as an apology for not posting a fic in so long - do i realize that the ratio of words in ace fics to other characters' is significantly more? yes. will i make it equal and tone down my ace fics? absolutely not. ;)

I TOTALLY DON'T HAVE AN IMPENDING HYPERFIXATION ON ACE PSHHH WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

slow burn(?)

@ai-kan1 peace offering plz accept me TT

not proofread sorry

tw: very cheesy and very cringe-worthy kissing scenes

pairing: Ace x Fem!Yuu (has a nut allergy and gets motion sickness for the sake of plot)

words: 6234 (hoo boy..)

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @ai-kan1

“You’re pretty popular these days, huh,” Ace says, his words lacking the teasing lilt he’d hoped to achieve upon seeing the piles of chocolates on Yuu’s table that morning.

Though—he inspects the stacks of cheap gifts he could easily discern were from Sam’s Shop. Do these people really think they can win Yuu over with shallow and thoughtless offerings like these? Did they even try?

Now, he’s no critic, but if Ace was given the chance to take part in this annual wooing fest, he’d go out of his way to take Yuu to an amusement park (everyone loves those) and impress her by winning all those crappy games for you (he’s street-smart, he’d know what he’s doing). Not only would Yuu end up utterly smitten with him, he’d also earn brownie points he can show off to Deuce. It’s an entirely win-win situation…or something. He wouldn’t know. It’s not like Ace spends his time thinking about this in minute detail. Haha, nope. Yuu was his best friend, and best friends don’t do that to each other.

…Probably.

“I guess,” Yuu hummed, rummaging through the mountain of chocolates, hoping for at least one decent piece without nuts.

“You guess?” Ace echoed in what almost sounded like a scoff. He leaned over her, arms crossed on the tabletop so that he could glance at the boxes in Yuu’s hands. “I counted twenty-three boxes. That’s basically the whole of the first years and half the second years at this school. What’s with all these chocolates for you, huh?”

With an amused smirk, he snatched a box out of her hands, inspecting the package.

“That’s some great hyperbole use, Ace. I didn’t realize your range of grammar was so wide,” Yuu deadpanned, “I’d appreciate it if you gave that back. It’s the only one without nuts and I want to satisfy my sweet tooth.”

“My grammar is amazing, you know. I’m the whole package,” Ace teased, tossing the box between his hands. His smirk was only growing bigger, seeming thoroughly entertained by her irritation. “But you didn’t answer the question: Why are you getting so many chocolates, hm?”

“Zero times a number is still zero,” Yuu countered back with a small smirk of her own. “And how would I know why so many people like me that way?”

“Ouch,” he deadpanned back in response. He put a hand to his chest in mock-despair. “Your cold words wound me. Here, a poor boy was just trying to give you a hard time, and you go ahead and say that.”

Ace was clearly just messing around with you, having the cheekiest damn smile on his face to show it.

“And you should have some idea, right? People like you because you’re cute. That’s it. Pretty simple reasoning.”

“You and your theatrics,” Yuu lightly shook her head. “But, I wasn’t expecting you to admit that. Are you one of the many people that like me or something?”

“Huh- hey, I do not have theatrics!” Ace protested with a huff. Although there was a hint of indignance in his voice, it quickly faded away to his usual carefree tone. He chose to ignore the second part of her question, but he couldn’t quite stop the flush that began to bloom over his cheeks. “I’m just being sarcastic with you! You ought to know that I’m just giving you a hard time, since I always give you a hard time.”

“Theater boy,” Yuu smiled, teasing him. She stood up, suddenly taking the box of chocolates back.

“Oh, come on!” Ace whined, following Yuu as she moved. “Don’t just take it back after that!”

For a moment, it seemed like he was about to make a grab for the box again, but he quickly aborted the motion with a huff and crossed his arms.

“So you still didn’t answer my question. Why the heck are you getting so many chocolates, anyway? Did you accidetally charm the entirety of our class or something?!”

“Look, I don’t know! This is what happens when you put a girl in an all boys school full of hormonal guys!” Yuu huffed, popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

“Oh- that’s why-”

Ace bit back a bark of laughter, instead covering his mouth and muffling his giggles behind his hand. After a moment, he got his amusement relatively under control, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

“Hormonal guys. Yeah, that seems about right. So you’re really not like, secretly flirting with half the school like I thought? I actually have a shot after all?”

Yuu raised an eyebrow. “I’m starting to think you are a part of the guys that like me.”

“Me? You think I like you too?” Ace exclaimed, laughing in a poor, failed attempt to hide the nervous blush that was quickly overtaking his face.

“Well, I mean-” He looked away, suddenly unable to meet her Yuu’s eyes. His voice lowered as he continued. “So what if I… I mean, hypothetically…”

“So you do?” Yuu grinned, playing with the chocolate wrapper.

“Oh come on, don’t sound so smug about it,” Ace mumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets on his uniform pants, hunching his shoulders. He couldn’t manage to look at her, but that didn’t stop him from speaking again in a quiet voice. 

“...Maybe I do. Hypothetically. You know, whatever, it’s not a big deal, alright?” 

“Uh huh,” Yuu raised her eyebrows, her grin widening. 

“Hush, you,” Ace shot back quickly, looking up to glare at her. “Don’t look so— so smug!”

His ears were definitely turning pink; a fact that was only made more obvious with some strands of fiery hair falling over them. “I can’t believe out of the two of us, you’re the one making me feel flustered.”

“Sure, pretty boy,” Yuu chuckled, placing the box of chocolate down.

“You—”

Ace choked on the rest of his sentence as he was called that. Heat flared up his neck into his face, turning his skin absolutely scarlet. How the hell did she say these things so easily?

“God, you’re the worst, you know that?” He turned away, facing the opposite wall and stubbornly refusing to look at Yuu. No one deserved to see how utterly embarrassed he was right now.

Yuu let out a small giggle, standing up and popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth. 

“Hey, what—”

Ace was in the middle of protesting before the chocolate was suddenly in his mouth. He spluttered for a moment, though finally giving in because hey, free chocolate.

“Damn it- stop giggling like that. You’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. He still wasn’t looking at her.

“Never. Would you rather me feed it to you mouth to mouth, then?”

Ace sputtered and choked on the piece of chocolate he had in his mouth. He coughed to try and regain his ability to speak, but all he managed to do was turn bright red, sputter some more, and look absolutely flabbergasted.

“Actually—since you’re so judgemental about my mountain of chocolates I can’t even eat, what would you do? What kind of date would you plan? I might actually agree depending on how much I like that idea—who knows.” Yuu grinned, giving him a small wink.

The sheer confidence and sass in her voice stunned Ace all over again. He couldn’t help but just stand there, gaping at Yuu in surprise. Though, eventually he managed to pull himself together, a sly smile overtaking his face.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart? I’ll have you falling to my feet by the end of that date. Just wait.”

“...sweetheart?” Yuu blinked twice, her smirk completely wiped off. Her turn to be flustered, I guess.

A sense of triumph flared up in Ace’s chest upon seeing her suddenly-dumbfounded expression. “What’s that look for? Got flustered, didn’t you? Didn’t think you’d get all shy.”

A sly smirk was still splayed across his face, taking a step closer to Yuu to admire her face more.

“Shut it. What do you have planned for this date, anyway?” Yuu huffed, scooting back with her chair, trying to change the subject. 

“I thought you wanted to know how much you’d like it after I suggested a date, hm?” Ace teased, taking note of how Yuu were suddenly avoiding eye contact, and that sweet, flustered look on her face. He chuckled, resting his hands by her chair, caging Yuu in and effectively keeping her from scooting away.

“...whatever…j-just—tell me what you have planned, Ace.”

He’s got her trapped and flustered. Ace’s smirk widened, reaching out to grab one of her hands.

“Alright, I’ll tell you,” Ace leaned down and lowered his voice into a murmur. “But before I do, can I ask you something?”

“Sure…”

He moved his free hand to gently grab her chin, tilting her head up to look into her eyes. “You’d be willing to go on a date with me, even if it’s going to be really, really cheesy?”

Yuu shrugged. “Why not? Sounds fun.”

Ace studied Yuu’s face for a moment, a fond look in his eyes. Eventually, that smirk returned, releasing your chin. “Alright. I guess I shouldn’t be asking. Of course you’d be up for a sappy cheesy date.”

He stood up straight and let go of her hand in favor of crossing his arms. “My plan? I’m taking you to an amusement park.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace was practically bouncing with excitement by the time the two of them got there. Like a little kid, if anything. As he walked beside Yuu, he pointed at different parts of the park they both passed by.

“I’m gonna win you the biggest plushie they have. Then I’m gonna buy you a bunch of shitty snacks from all the vendors. And to top it all off, I’m gonna make you try all the rides here, even if you’re scared of heights.”

“Ah shit, I knew I forgot something…”

Ace stopped in his tracks, spinning around to give Yuu a questioning look. “Huh? Forgot something? What are you talking about?”

Yuu swallowed. “...my motion sickness medicine.”

Ace stared at her for a moment, a bewildered look on his face. He let out a low groan and facepalmed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re seriously telling me you forgot to take your motion sickness medicine to an amusement park?”

Yuu looked down guiltily, her head hanging low as she fiddled with her thumbs. “...I’m sorry,” she bit her lip, her voice quiet as she murmured an apology.

If it weren’t for the fact that she looked like a pitiful baby animal, he’d be very pissed off right now. Ace was prepared to be annoyed at her forgetfulness, he really was. But the moment he laid eyes on Yuu and saw that dejected, kicked-puppy-like look on her face, all of that annoyance melted away. 

“Damn it, why’d you have to look so pathetic? You're making it hard to be made at you, you know that?” He sighed loudly.

“...excuse me?” Yuu looked up, meeting his eyes—her own narrowing.

Ace chuckled nervously. Looks like he had to backtrack after that one. 

“Hold on, hold on, that didn’t come out right…” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I meant ‘pathetic’ in an endearing way. You know, like when a puppy makes a mess and they stare up at you looking all sad and guilty? You’re looking at me just like that.”

“Oh good,” Yuu pushed her hands into her own pockets. “Well…what now?”

Ace paused for a moment, looking pensive as he thought of something through. “Hmm…Well, I guess the question is, how bad is your motion sickness? Like, can you even handle the small rides, or is it like, as soon as you walk into a park it all goes downhill?”

“I mean, I haven’t thrown up yet from the sight of a roller coaster. So, I think I can do small or calm rides.”

Ace nodded and exhaled a small sigh of relief. “Alright, that’s good. That means you can still somewhat enjoy the park.”

He leaned forward to sling an arm around Yuu’s shoulders, drawing her closer. “C’mon, I know what we should do first.”

“Oh?”

Ace flashed Yuu a smile before pulling her along. “First, we win you a plushie. I’m good at these carnival games, so it shouldn’t take too long to win a decent prize.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the two of them approached the first little game area, Ace stopped and pointed up at the hanging prizes. 

“Pick which one you want. And don’t say you don’t care, just choose one. I’m gonna win it for you.”

“That one,” Yuu smiled, pointing up at a plush of a mix of some duck-fish hybrid thing. “It looks incredibly stupid, but I want it.”

Ace followed where she was pointing, letting out a laugh at the sight of the plushie she’d chosen. That thing was an absolute abomination.

“You’ve got a weird taste in plushes. But fine. You want the stupid fish-duck? I’ll win it for you.”

She let out a happy squeak, watching Ace pay for a chance to play. He accepted the game equipment from the person running the game, immediately getting to work. From the start, his eyes were laser-focused. He was incredibly determined to win Yuu the ugliest plush the park had, by God.

He worked through the game with impressive skill. His accuracy was excellent, his aim never once deviating far from the intended target. A small crowd even started to form as he continued to play, a few kids gathered around, marveling at how many points he was getting. 

As he finally finished and set the equipment aside, he raked in an impressive amount of points. Almost more than any other player. The person running the game smiled and picked up one of the largest prizes, holding it out to him. 

“Not bad, kid. You sure you don’t want to pick something bigger?” 

Ace shook his head. “Nah, I’ve only got my eye set on one thing,” he replied, holding out his arms in a ‘gimme’ gesture. The person shrugged, handing over the fish-duck plush. It was absolutely hideous, just like Yuu had wanted.

Yuu smiled, squeaking happily as she took the plush when he offered. “Thanks, Ace,” she giggled, hugging the stupid looking plush tightly close to her chest.

Ace’s heart almost melted at the cute sound Yuu made. It was completely unfair that she could be so adorable and not even realize it. He gave an amused huff, smiling down at Yuu as she squeezed that ugly plush.

“You know, I don’t know whether to be upset or just accept that you’ve got a really weird taste.”

Yuu shrugged. “I’m stupid looking and I love it.”

Ace chuckled, shaking his head as he watched her practically coo over the plushie in her arms. 

“Yeah, you’ve definitely got a weird taste,” He reached over to ruffle her hair fondly. “You’re a really strange girl, you know that?”

“Well, you’re the one that took this ‘strange girl’ out on this date in the first place.” Yuu tilted her head, squeezing the duck-fish plush once more.

Ace smirked, crossing his arms and leaning closer. “Hey, I never said I was opposed to it. If I was, we wouldn’t be here,” He flicked the corner of the plush’s wing.

“Though this thing is a testament to your weird taste in stuff. Like seriously, if that’s the most hideous thing you’ve chosen, then there’s no telling how more of your life choices could be just as weird…but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He commented, his gaze softening. That smirk slid into a smile, taking a moment to just look at her.

“Anyway—” Yuu tucked the plush under her arm. “---I wanna go on the ferris wheel.”

Ace had been admiring how she looked while holding her plush just now. Yuu was just way too cute to be legal. At her words, he jerked out of his mini-trance, clearing his throat and putting on another playful smirk.

“Oh, you want the ‘romantic cliche ride’, huh?”

“Well, actually I was going for rides that won’t make me throw up, but that works too.”

Ace barked out a laugh at her response, amused and a little bit incredulous. This girl just didn’t miss a beat, did she? 

“I see. So a slow ride that goes in circles is the only thing you can really stand to tolerate. I think that qualifies as ‘boring’.”

“Look, either ‘boring’ or get covered in my own vomit. Pick your poison,” Yuu stuck her tongue out for a moment, giving the head of the duck-fish plush a gentle pat.

“Alright, alright, fine, you win,” Ace rolled his eyes, a fond smirk on his face. This girl never failed to amuse him, that was for sure. “Come on. Let’s go to the ferris wheel.”

He reached out and grabbed Yuu’s free hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as he began walking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace sat next to Yuu, watching the sun gradually set over the horizon. His hand was still holding onto hers, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. This was surprisingly nice. He’d have to admit, going on dates like this usually wasn’t his cup of tea…but he could get used to it when it was with Yuu.

“This is really nice…” Yuu looked down at the park in awe. Seeing people down there, enjoying themselves made her smile. 

“Pretty too,” She added, watching the lights of the park turn on, somehow making the place look more picturesque. Yuu squeezed the ugly ass plush, feeling content as they began to descend.

Ace nodded in agreement. The view really was quite pretty up here. He leaned against Yuu a bit, looking down over the railing at the people below. He could just barely make out what they looked like in the growing darkness. 

“Yeah. This really isn’t too boring after all.” 

He smirked and lifted his free hand to tap the weird plushie under your arm. “See? That thing’s not too bad after all. It makes an excellent armrest.” 

Yuu gasped dramatically. “Okay, for one, you were the one calling this duck-fish plush ugly. And two—how dare you use Jeremy as an armrest!”

Ace let out a laugh at her reaction. He couldn’t help it, that was just way too funny. 

“‘Jeremy’?!” He repeated, his eyes shining with amusement. “You gave it a name?!”

Yuu failed to hold back a smile. “Of course I did. For the record, his pronouns are he/him, not it. Jeremy is my child now.”

Ace snorted as she started talking like the plush was actually a real creature. He reached out to pat the top of the plush’s head once, more for the humor of it than anything else.

“Alright, alright…I apologize. I’ll make sure to address this little guy properly. He is quite hideous, and is the fruit of your strange tastes.”

Yuu rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice intent to it. “Stop insulting my baby, Ace.” 

Ace chuckled, shaking his head and raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, fine, I’ll stop. You’re right, your baby is perfect in every way.”

He reached out to pat the top of the stupid thing’s head again, this time in a more genuine manner. He was doing his best to keep his tone serious, but the corner of his mouth was twitching with the effort of keeping back a smirk.

“Better,” Yuu smiled, kissing Ace’s cheek as a reward for being nicer to the abomination of a plush.

Ace’s face turned a bit red as Yuu kissed his cheek. Now that was just unfair. She’d flustered him in one move. He averted his gaze and cleared his throat, hoping that she didn’t notice. Of all the times to lose his composure, it had to be right now. 

“R-right, yeah,” he replied, his response coming out a bit more stilted than usual. He quickly recovered his composure, fixing you with a smirk to cover up his momentary lapse in confidence. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Yuu smiled at the pet name, going back to playing with the stupid duck-fish thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they walked from the ride, Ace watched as Yuu continued playing with her new weird plushie. He was starting to think that thing might get more attention than he did, if this went o n any longer. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving Yuu a side-glance. He didn’t even really think about it before the words came out of his mouth. “...Hey, you’re not gonna end up replacing me with that thing, are you?”

Yuu raised an eyebrow and titled her head. “Are you jealous of Jeremy?” She chuckled with a small grin.

“I’m not jealous of that hideous thing,” Ace sputtered, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Yuu with a half-hearted glare. “It’s just you’ve been giving it more attention than you’ve been giving me.”

That, and the fact she’d called it her ‘baby’ and given it a name—but he left that part unsaid.

Yuu giggled, using her free hand to reach out and grab one of his, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay, Ace. You’re irreplaceable.”

Ace huffed, but her words and the way she squeezed his hand helped to ease the uneasy feeling in his chest. He grumbled in slight embarrassment as he replied, a bit of a half-hearted pout on his face. “...You’d better remember that. You’re stuck with me,” He grumbled, giving Yuu’s hand a small squeeze back.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ace stopped walking momentarily, making Yuu stop along with him. He used this opportunity to pull her in, wrapping his arms around her waist and trapping her against his chest.

He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck, his voice coming out in a low, somewhat muffled grumble. “You’re mine.”

Ace had zero shame when it came to stuff like this. If he wanted to hold Yuu, he was going to hold her. And if she happened to be standing in the middle of the park, so be it. He just wrapped his arms around her tighter, letting himself get lost in her presence for a moment. He lifted his head up so he could speak, his voice a low murmur. “...promise me you won’t forget that, ‘kay?”

Yuu chuckled, tucking the plush under her arm and hugging him back—just as tightly. “I promise.”

Ace hummed in approval, squeezing you a little bit tighter again—not that he really needed to. At this point, this was just him being clingy, but he couldn’t really help it at this point. He was still feeling a bit…jealous, as ridiculous as it sounded. 

“...Good,” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of Yuu’s neck again in an attempt to hide his expression from view. He was just being a little bit more clingy than usual tonight, was all. It just couldn’t be helped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace and Yuu stood side by side, watching the fireworks go off in the night sky. He had one arm wrapped around her, his hand lightly holding onto her waist. He was leaning ever so slightly against her, his gaze fixated on the sky. He had a small smile on his face, the colors of the fireworks lighting up his face.

He had to admit, he wasn’t one for sappy, romantic things like these. But tonight, he found himself enjoying these kind of things a bit more than usual.

“...Hey, Ace?” Yuu looked up at him.

Ace shifted his gaze, away from the night sky and over to Yuu. “Yeah? What is it, babe?”

“...I love you.”

Ace’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at her sudden confession. He hadn’t been expecting that. In fact, it almost seemed like his heart had skipped a beat.

For a brief moment, the ever-cocky boy was stunned speechless. He quickly shook himself out of it, wrapping his arms around Yuu. He pulled her flush against his chest, and returned the declaration. “...Yeah, yeah, I love you too, dork.”

“...and, if you’re going to love me, you know who else you have to love?” Yuu snickered, unable to hold back a grin.

Ace blinked, having an odd suspicion about what she was going to say. He shifted his gaze down at the hideous blue thing tucked under her arm, responding with a flat, deadpan tone. 

“Please don’t say the plushie.”

“Your new son,” Yuu laughed, holding up the duck-fish plushie.

Ace huffed, a deadpan expression on his face. He was sorely tempted to roll his eyes, but he managed to restrain himself. He let out a small grumble of protest, before replying in a flat tone. “We are not reffering to that hideous, ugly ass thing as my ‘son’.”

“Too bad,” Yuu grinned, patting it on the head.

Ace gumbled again, narrowing his eyes at the ugly plushie that Yuu adored for some odd reason. 

“...I hate that thing,” He mumbled, his words carrying equal parts annoyance and jealousy.

Yuu shrugged, leaning her head on his chest and looking back up at the fireworks. “Even if you hate it, I’m glad you won it for me.”

Ace grumbled again, begrudgingly wrapping his arms around you once more. Even if he’d never admit it, he liked having her close to him like this. He buried his face into her hair, continuing to steal the occasional glance at the stupid, hideous plushies that he’d gotten for Yuu. Even if it was ugly as hell, it was the cause of the stupidly happy expression on her face, and that was good enough for him.

“...Whatever.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ace was walking alongside Yuu, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He was taking his time when she suddenly stopped and pointed at a candy shop.

He raised an eyebrow, following the path of her finger to where she was pointing. A candy store. Figures.

“What, do you need even more sugar after all that cotton candy you ate earlier?”

“No, I just want to get quality chocolate. Not the mountain of crappy ones I can’t even eat back at Ramshackle.”

Ace let out a huff, an amused smirk on his face. “Quality chocolate, huh? Are you some kind of expert on it or something?” He teased, giving Yuu a small nudge.

“Shut up. I just want to freely enjoy chocolate that won’t potentially kill me, Ace.”

Ace let out an acknowledging hum, shrugging his shoulders. “Fair enough,” he responded, shifting his gaze to the shop Yuu was pointing at. He gave the place a quick glance, noting with mild surprise that it was a higher-end shop that the usual stores.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ace said, giving Yuu a small nudge towards the shop. He released Yuu from his hold, immediately taking her hand instead, intertwining his fingers with hers as he lead her towards the shop. Even if this was for Yuu, he had no intention of letting her wander off.

The two of them entered the store, immediately surrounded by rich smells of chocolate.

Ace had to admit, this place might be a bit above his price range, but he had a bit of money saved up, and well—he did sort of promise to pay for everything tonight. He didn’t really mind that much.

Yuu got a small, simple bag of chocolates, it being a variety of white, milk and dark—some with caramel, some without.

Ace stood by her side, watching her look through the different kinds of chocolate the store had to offer. He was admittedly surprised at the simplicity of the bag she’d picked out, having thought that she would choose the most expensive ones. But instead, she’d gone with something smaller and a bit more modest. He raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled by her voice. 

“That’s it? Just that one?”

“Yeah. I don’t want you to spend too much on me. It makes me feel bad.”

Ace raised an eyebrow once more, huffing and shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Don’t worry about how much stuff costs, I can handle it. I don’t mind spending money on you.”

“You sure?”

Ace rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I just told you not to worry about it, didn’t I?” he responded, his tone a bit more exasperated. Honestly, Yuu worried about this kind of thing way too much…

“If you say so,” Yuu smiled, giving the hideous plushie a squeeze and Ace a peck on the cheek.

He huffed, but a small smile quickly came to his face nonetheless. His cheeks flushed a little when she kissed him, bringing a hand up to his cheek to make sure that wasn’t a permanent mark or something. He then shook his head, muttering as small grumble. “You’re way too troublesome, y’know that?”

“Says you,” Yuu chuckled, bringing the bag of chocolates up to the cashier.

Ace rolled his eyes, refraining from making any retort. He simply watched as Yuu placed the chocolates on the counter

Of course, he couldn’t wait too long before eventually opening his mouth once more, an amused smirk coming to his face as he was paying. “You know, if you wanted something even better than some ordinary chocolates, I could probably give you something better.”

“Oh?” Yuu took her bag of chocolates, thanking the cashier before leaving the store with him. 

Ace followed you out of the store, a cheeky grin on his face. “Yeah. I bet my kisses taste way better than chocolates.”

Yuu’s eyes widened for a moment, a faint blush dusting her cheeks before she composed herself, putting on a smile. “I bet.”

Once he saw her initial reaction, a devious smirk quickly spread across Ace’s face. Ah, so he’d caught her of guard for once… He liked seeing those sorts of reactions from her. It was cute.

He leaved in closer, his face close to hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I can prove it, if you want.”

Yuu giggled. “I don’t think I would mind.”

Ace’s smirk turned into a grin, and he chuckled. “Good,” He pulled you close to him, and brought one of his hands up to her cheek. His fingers gently traced over her skin, running his thumb over her lips.

He leaned in closer, his lips a few inches away from hers. For a brief moment, he just studied her eyes and face, admiring the way she looked up at him with such anticipation.

He smirked again, finally closing the gap between them two. His hand moved to the back of Yuu’s head, tilting it slightly as he placed his lips against hers. Ace’s eyes fell shut, beginning to kiss her.

Ace’s kisses were gentle, yet confident and possessive. His hand on her cheek was firm but not rough, and he used that to pull her closer. The world around her seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them.

Yuu pulled away, letting out a content sigh as she did so. “...we should go; it’s getting late. You wouldn’t want Riddle to collar you again, would you?”

Ace rolled his eyes at the mention of Riddle, unable to help but grimace a little at the thought of receiving another of the housewarden’s infamous disciplinary actions.

“Ugh, you’re right,” he muttered. He wasn’t too pleased about ending the night early, though he didn’t want to get collared, either.

“Come on, Jeremy is getting tired,” Yuu grinned, pulling away as she held up her plushie.

Ace grumbled again, giving the plushie another disgusted look. “You need to stop calling that thing ‘Jeremy’,” he replied, his tone flat.

“When pigs fly,” Yuu stuck out her tongue, taking his hand and walking to the exit of the amusement park.

Ace rolled his eyes again, a small grumble of protest escaping from his throat. God, how in the world did that hideous plushie end up winning him over, yet again? He really was a hopeless case…

He didn’t utter another word of protest as Yuu took hold of his hand and lead him out of the park, though. As annoying as that hideous thing was, it made her happy, and that was good enough for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, the two made it back to Ramshackle. Ace took a quick look at the rundown dorm, wrinkling his nose slightly. 

“Man, why does it look even more pathetic at night?” he grimaced, before walking up the steps to the front door.

Yuu rolled her eyes and shook her head, opening the door and stepping inside alongside Ace.

Ace followed close behind Yuu and closed the door behind him. He looked around the familiar yet outdated interior, still not entirely fond of the appearance. Of course, he was grateful that she was at least letting him stay here, so he knew better than to be disrespectful about it.

He let go of her hand and slumped down on the couch, sprawling himself out across it.

Yuu momentarily set her plush down on the counter beside her goodie bag of chocolates. “You want one?” she offered, popping a caramel filled milk chocolate piece into her mouth before getting to work and throwing away the mountain of the crappy, nut-included chocolates from students in her class.

Ace watched her as she tossed the pile of cheap chocolates into the trash, a slightly amused smirk on his face. He shook his head as he let out a small huff of laughter, silently mocking her earlier statement that she didn’t want him spending too much money on her.

“Sure, give me one. Might as well check if they taste as horrible as they look.”

Yuu raised an eyebrow. “I meant the ones you bought me from the amusement park—not these shitty ones. I don’t want you to get food poisoning or something.”

Ace rolled his eyes and scoffed dismissively, though he was inwardly relieved that he didn’t have to sample the cheap chocolates. 

“Oh, right,” he responded, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He then shrugged, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well go on. I paid for those, so I should at least get a taste test.”

Yuu chuckled and rolled her eyes, looking inside the bag. “Which one do you want? White, milk or dark?”

Ace thought about it for a moment, before ultimately shrugging. “Doesn’t matter too much to me. As long as it doesn’t taste like dirt,” he replied, then adding, “I’ll take dark. It always tastes the richest.”

Yuu pulled out a dark chocolate piece, unwrapping it while walking over to the couch and feeding it to him. 

Ace leaned forward, a bit to accept the chocolate into his mouth, his eyes falling shut briefly once it was fully inside. He began to chew it, unable to help but let out a small satisfied hum.

After swallowing, he looked back up at Yuu and smirked. “Tastes better than the cheap stuff, I’ll give you that.”

Yuu suddenly smirked, a light bulb going off over her head. “You want another?”

Ace’s smirk grew, his eyebrows raising up slightly. He had an inkling of where this was going, but he still played along. “Depends. Are you going to feed me this one, too?”

“Eh, sort of~”

Ace smirked again, his curiosity heightened by her response. He leaned forward a bit more, keeping his eyes on her. 

“Care to explain what else you’ve got in mind, then?”

Yuu let out a giggle, unwrapping another piece of chocolate and placinging half of it in her mouth, holding it with her front teeth.

Ace raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, but then it dawned on him what she was getting at. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, a small huff of laughter escaping them.

He was going to get a repeat of that kiss from earlier, only this time it had chocolate involved. 

He shifted a little closer to Yuu, his eyes fixed on hers. “Is this your attempt at winning me over, with fancy French chocolate kisses?”

Yuu gave a firm nod with a hum, leaning down closer to him.

Ace smirked again and reached out to grab her waist, gently tugging her down on top of him. He settled down on the couch, his back flat against the cushions, his back flat against the cushions and Yuu lying on top of him.

“You’re lucky I like this kind of bribery…” he said, his tone low but playful.

He didn’t give Yuu a chance to response. Instead, he pressed his lips against hers, kissing Yuu eagerly. His fingers gripped her waist, starting to gently guide her so that she was straddling him.

Yuu used this chance to push the piece of chocolate into his mouth with her tongue. 

Ace’s eyes were shut at first, focused on only her lips against his. Then he felt the chocolate piece being pushed into his mouth, parting his lips a little more to let it fully in.

He quickly began to chew and swallow it, all the while keeping his lips in constant contact with hers. Then he broke away for a moment, his smirk returning as he spoke. “Tastes even better that way,” he commented, before diving back in, kissing Yuu again.

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

[rylem33]

High Riser

Claire never imagined she’d end up living in a swanky high-rise apartment, perched in the heart of the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. The sleek, modern space was nothing like the warm, cozy homes she preferred. Gray walls, chrome accents, and floor-to-ceiling windows made it feel more like a magazine spread than a place to live. But it was her boyfriend Matt’s dream apartment, and Claire had agreed to move in, even if it wasn’t really her style.

Matt adored the city’s glitz and glamor, thriving in his high-paying tech job. Claire, on the other hand, prided herself on her humility. She worked at a nonprofit, feeding underserved families, a job she cherished despite the modest salary. She liked to think of herself as the opposite of the vain influencers she mocked.  The irony didn’t escape her that they would feel probably feel more at home in this apartment than she did.

At first, it was easy to overlook the unease she felt. The apartment was just a place, after all. But that didn’t explain the way her reflection sometimes seemed… different. She noticed it in the polished surfaces of the kitchen, the glossy marble counters in the bathroom. Then Matt surprised her with a gift to “make the place feel more her”. It was a sleek, full-length mirror with a modern frame that fit perfectly with the decor.

“You’ve been working so hard,” he said with a wink. “You deserve something nice.”

Claire smiled, thanking him, but she barely used the mirror. Vanity wasn’t her thing. That was the kind of indulgence she scoffed at, wasn’t it?

Then the whispers started.

They were quiet at first, a faint hum in the back of her mind whenever she stood before the mirror. The voice grew bolder over time, urging her to tweak her hair, try on a different dress, or stand just so. And Claire listened, not realizing how easily she was falling into its rhythm. Her reflection began to change even more, her skin glowing, her features sharpening into something undeniably stunning. People started to notice. First Matt, then their friends, eventually even strangers on the street. For the first time, she felt the magnetic pull of being admired.

The changes didn’t stop with her appearance. Thoughts she’d once dismissed as shallow crept into her mind, louder and harder to ignore. The job she used to love felt burdensome, the struggling families a drain on her energy. The rooftop parties Matt took her to now felt exhilarating. She loved the way eyes lingered on her, the way conversations stopped when she walked into a room.

The woman in the mirror watched it all with a knowing smirk.

It wasn’t long before Claire barely recognized herself. She quit her nonprofit job without a second thought. Her days became filled with shopping trips and photoshoots in the apartment’s perfect lighting. She downloaded Instagram, creating an account that quickly amassed followers, each post filled with images of her flawless face and designer outfits.

Claire told herself she could stop whenever she wanted. That she wasn’t like those people. Those vapid, shallow influencers. But she knew she was lying to herself. She was changing and she didn’t like it.

Tonight, Claire was determined to break free. She stood before the mirror, trembling with anger and fear. Her reflection stared back, serene and mocking, every bit as beautiful as Claire had become.

“You’re wasting your strength,” it purred, tilting its head. “Look at your life. You’re better now. You love who you’ve become.”

“I never wanted this!” Claire shouted, tears streaking her perfect cheeks. “I’m not like you!”

The reflection’s laughter filled the room, sharp and cutting. “Oh, Claire. Sweet, naive Claire. You already are me. Look at what you’ve done. You quit your job. You love the attention. You thrive on it.”

Claire’s hands balled into fists. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. But the whispers in her mind were louder now, echoing every cruel thought she’d buried. You liked it. You wanted it.

With a scream, she lunged at the mirror, slamming her fist into the glass. Cracks splintered across the surface, glowing faintly as her reflection’s smirk widened.

“You can’t destroy me,” it said, stepping closer to the surface. “Because I’m you.”

The cracks rippled like water as the reflection stepped through, fully formed and impossibly radiant. It towered over Claire, perfect and cold, a cruel parody of everything she’d despised.

“Stop fighting,” the reflection whispered, cupping Claire’s face. Its hands were cold, yet they burned. “When this is over, you won’t even remember who you were. And that’s a blessing.”

Claire tried to pull away, but her body felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish. The reflection leaned closer, and Claire felt herself slipping away. Her anger, her resistance, her very self dissolving into the void.

The last thing she saw was her reflection’s flawless smile.

The woman who rose from the floor looked flawless, every movement smooth and deliberate. She turned to the mirror, now whole and unblemished, and adjusted her hair with a satisfied smirk.

Grabbing her phone, she snapped a selfie against the glittering skyline, captioning it with ease.

“Chasing perfection ✨ #blessed #citylife”

In the depths of the mirror, a faint outline of Claire’s old self remained, hands pressed against the glass, her mouth open in a silent scream.

But the new Claire didn’t notice.

And she didn’t care.

[fan-goddess]

If he’s a ghost, I can be a phantom

Authors Note: So this has taken way too long for me to write. I hit way too many blocks last year so hopefully i won't have the same with this one. I think though I'll be taking a haitus just to clear my head, as i want to take some space while i focus on other things

Word count: 14.2k words

Taglist: @hoosbandewan @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Warnings: Heavy sexism, patriarchal views, cheating, angst, sexual tension, does reader come off as i'm not like other girls? kissing, blood, descriptions of bullet wound, talk of one night stands, alcohol, arousal, threats of murder, pervy men (if i miss any which im sure i did let me know so i can add it.)

The mission was not supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy mission, but you suppose simplicity is not as easy to maintain or even believe to be true, when you’re bleeding with a gunshot wound to your shoulder and at least a litre and a half of blood spilled on a once pristine white carpet.

Tom Bennett is supposedly one of the best of the best. He was recruited when he was still pretty young from the army, and since then, had been trained ruthlessly to know how to shoot and where the places had to be to look like somebody else’s vengeance.

You yourself were similar, but you actually had the smarts going for you rather than the brawn. Soon as you graduated from university with a degree in foreign communications, two men in suits were sitting on your sofa describing what’ll happen and how in very painstakingly detailed ways.

You’d never met Agent Tom Bennett before the mission briefing, but you had certainly heard of him. Son of a pacifist from Manchester, who ironically likes to get into one too many fights that the agency, while not being happy about paying the damages for, does not mention since Bennett does the job needed. What you hear most however from your coworkers, is how he never leaves a mission without a notch in his post, even if it’s from his fellow agent.

So when being told your mission and your partner, your male supervisor gave you a once over and told you to keep your head high and your legs firmly shut. And like the good girl you pretended to be, you just nodded your head so you could work and die someplace better than the dreary country that is mother England.

Even sitting in that briefing room waiting for Agent Bennett to grace you all with his presence you swore you could feel the eyes of every person in that room making bets in their heads whether you’d sleep with him on the mission or not. And by how you analysed everyone watching you, the probability of it being yes was quite frankly staggering.

“Hello hello hello!” A man's voice says, and when you turn to look at the intruder unlike everyone else who simply didn't care enough to turn, you’re met with such a cocky smirk you know exactly who this is.

“And who is this pretty little lady?” Tom says, finally directing his attention to you who just continues to sit there with a blank face.

“It’s Agent to you Agent Bennett.”

“Oh is it now? Well I’m very sorry, agent. I’ll be sure to address you right from now on shan’t I? Though I’m sure with our mission we’ll get on like a house on fire by the end.” Agent Bennett grins, sitting down directly next to you and plopping his arm round your neck. Though to his own amusement only, you immediately shove him off you and move yourself further down the sofa with a huff.

The supervisor overseeing the mission's progress thankfully manages to distract him by beginning the debriefing.

“Agents, we are sending you to France in a few weeks to-“

“Fuck off!” Agent Bennett shouts which even after all your training still manages to make you jump in your seat.

“As I was saying,” The supervisor starts again, glaring hard at Agent Bennett who sulks in his seat like a child on the verge of a tantrum. “You’ll be going to France to infiltrate and retrieve some information from a corrupt politician's estate that he keeps in a hard drive inside of a vault in his office.”

“What’s the security on the estate and vault?” You ask, as Agent Bennett it seems is still acting like a spoiled child after being told he needs to go to France, when already off the top of your head you could list so many other much worse places he could’ve been told he needed to go.

“The usual security protocol. He has security cameras equipped with night vision, guards to patrol the grounds as well as guard dogs trained to attack on site, and sensors in regards to lights, doors and of course the safe, which you two need to get into. We couldn't find anything about it in our extensive research, so you'll both need to use your heads when faced with that later on in the mission.”

“Sounds impossible…” You can’t help but comment.

“Oh come on, love don’t sound so negative!” Bennett grins. You can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye but it appears you’ve already managed to grow tired of his bullshit, so instead you merely look to the supervisor who, like you, appears to be attempting to ignore the guy. “I’m sure we’ll be done before suppers on the table!”

“Sure.” You simply say, rolling your eyes while the supervisor already looks ready to chuck Agent Bennett into the enemies home arse first.

“Now, you two will be our main operatives with the surveillance team being ready to assist whenever they’re needed. It took some work, but we managed to get a good enough alibi to get you both inside as it turns out our politician has a fancy for private masquerade balls.”

As he says this a much younger recruit who looks barely old enough to drink in Europe passes you and Agent Bennett your individual case files, and when you open it to look at your latest identity, you find yourself having to hold in your disgust.

“Mrs Dahlia Carrington?” You can’t help but question out loud, already dreading what Agent Bennett will say.

“Yes wife?” Like clockwork, his annoying voice rings out boiling your blood with every syllable. “As Mr Thomas Carrington, I suppose it is my duty to make sure my beloved is dressed to her best!”

“Never call me that again.”

“Just getting us both into the mood sweetie!”

“Don’t call me that either!” You snap, turning to him with a clenched fist that you oh so desperately want to damage his pretty smirking face with.

“Enough the both of you!” Your supervisor begs, glaring at you and Agent Bennett and making you feel like a child being lectured by their parents. “Agent Bennett, I for one can say have had enough with your playboy nature and how it constantly affects your missions. Will you behave this time, or will I need to prepare another incident report for your arrival with an extra year or two suspended field training?”

And like a child who’s been lectured by a parents, Agent Bennett pouts with a furrowed expression.

“No sir…”

“Good. Now learn your documents and meet with your team. They have the necessary equipment you’ll be needing to get familiar with. Formal wear included.”

You take the supervisor's ending nod as your dismissal and take the file in your hand as you leave. You do not dare look at Agent Bennett, especially as he begins to moan again only this time because he’s been told he has to wear a suit and tie, yet still you manage to get the feeling of goosebumps erupting on your back as you swear you feel his gaze roam your behind.

You cannot be bothered to snap at the man again, so you just sigh loudly to let him know of your annoyance at his actions, and his deep chuckle rings through your mind as you walk away.

As you sit on the stool waiting for your outfit to arrive for you to try it on, you read the file carefully making sure to try and memorise every word possible.

The man whose house you are to sneak into, with help of Agent Bennett as the supervisor had spoken in the debriefing, is a pure French blooded politician whose work slowly turned more and more poisoned against the good of the people. Most recently, he’s gotten access to certain information that could bring about war if placed into the hands of the wrong people, and like the idiot he is, he’s kept it on his computer in his estate.

So what you and Agent Bennett are simply assigned to do, is act like you’re both members of high society to get inside the politician's home and retrieve the information stored most likely on his laptop.

It seems very simple. But then again, all the files of Agent Bennett's other missions seemed simple too, and most of them ended up in millions of pounds in property damage and at least a couple hundred dead bodies needing an explanation only the government could provide.

“Here we are my dear!” The stylist says as he walks through the door with your dress in his hand.

Before you had been given access to missions and was stuck on desk duty, you had never realised that being an agent stylist was an actual job offered here at headquarters. But now that you’ve been upgraded and done a good amount of missions you definitely see why it’s necessary, especially since the bulletproof vest has certainly saved your skin once or twice.

“Oh Stan, it's gorgeous!” You gush as he hangs it on the rack and steps back to allow you to see it in its full glory.

The dress's colour is mainly a deep blue, similar to that of a sapphire, but in the middle where the deep blue fabric separates the fabric is a much lighter shade that you can only describe as being like the cornflowers you see in the fields. The dresses shoulder cuffs are short with a barely noticeable belt keeping the dress firmly fitted. The same sapphire shade continues down the dress till the very end, which happens to be just around your ankles which is the just the way you like your dresses to be.

Overall, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

“I’m glad you think so.” Stan smiles, stepping back towards the dress so he can show you the extra special details not seen by the public. “Now the fabric this is made out of is bullet resistant thread. It’ll stop the bullet going in you, but it’s not perfect. If you’re under fire and hit one too many times it’ll rip and you’ll get shot. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Good. The dress is tailored for your preference, as I remember you saying you didn’t like too long dresses. Also, it’s not too short so it shows the knife or pistol that you will no doubt have strapped to your thigh. Other than those two things the dress is pretty explanatory and simple. Still, anything you wanna ask about?”

“Why blue?” You can’t help but ask. Usually you’d be asking all about the dynamics and the science behind it. But right now, you can’t help but feel curious when looking at the colour of the dress that you rarely ever see on your other wardrobe items.

“Cause Agent Bennett said it’d bring out your eyes.” Stan simply says, full on cackling with amusement when he sees your face melt into an untimely scowl.

On the day before the mission, the supervisor claimed that to get into a better mindset for the roles you and Agent Bennett needed to play, you both needed to spend a night in a nearby hotel.

Though you should’ve known that bastard was up for something when he smiled whilst he said this, as after speaking to the female receptionist, who seemed all too eager in your opinion in eyeing up your pretend husband, and heading to the room, you discover only one bed. And what’s worse, if it somehow could’ve been, is that it was covered in rose petals.

The supervisor had booked the two of you a honeymoon suit.

It was like he was enticing Agent Bennett to attempt to sleep with you, not that you’d ever let him get near enough though of course.

“Well could’ve been worse I s’pose!” Agent Bennett sniffs as he walks around the room. He opens every cabinet, leaves every door open, chucks his bags and other belongings on the bed until eventually his unique bout of chaos settles and he’s sitting on a sofa chair by the open window with an open bag of peanuts in one hand, a bottle of soda in another, and an old fashioned movie playing in the background.

“What?” He muffles with his mouth full. “If the agency is paying for it all, which I know they are, better make the most of it Mrs!”

“Don’t call me that.” You simply say, refusing to admit he’s actually correct for once in his statement. Instead you just take the time to organise your suitcase and your belongings so everything is where it should be and in a discreet place in case housekeeping decides to visit while you’re away.

This evening, you and your pretend husband were going to go, or rather are being ordered to go, downstairs for dinner to further push this idea that the two of you were just a regular married couple.

So about an hour before the dinner reservation in the hotels restaurant while Agent Bennett was too busy trying to find a channel on the hotels tv that wasn't all in bloody French, you slipped into the bathroom to attempt to slip yourself in a dress suitable enough for an evening meal, but not too revealing as to look like you're trying to be invited to work undercover in the red light district.

You stare at the five differently styled dresses you narrowed your two suitcases to, and can't help but sigh to yourself. How on earth have you managed to get yourself in this particular situation?

"Oi! You gonna be any longer missus? Think I'm gonna piss myself here with how long you've been on the loo for!"

"Piss off the balcony for all I care, I'm changing!" You yell back, not looking away from the line of dresses hung up on the shower curtain line.

"Touchy touchy... well if ya want I could always come in and-"

"Over my dead body!" This time, you sharply turn to the door and glare as you picture Agent Bennett on the other side with his smug smirk and his crossed arms that manage to somehow make his biceps bigger than what they were. Ugh it makes you sick in the stomach just thinking about them.

"For god's sake love open the door and I'll choose the god damn dress so you can quit fussing and I can quit trying not to piss myself over the carpet! I don't wanna barge in cause you're a lady and all that but i'm a desperate man over here!" He says, and you can't help but giggle for a moment as you imagine him hopping about with crossed legs and his arms crossed over his bladder. Still, with a straight face you unlock and open the bathroom door and stand aside as to your amusement, Agent Bennett just as you imagined, shuffles into the room with his legs fused together.

"The red one." He simply says, barely managing to get a look at them all before deciding on one you suspect at random.

"But it's got that massive slit down the side that shows my knee. I want to be formal, not like I'm looking for a good time."

"So go with the yellow." He quickly fires, definitely making eyes at the toilet.

"Washes me out like Edward Cullen."

"He an ex of yours or something? Green looks charming."

"I'm gonna respectfully choose to ignore that statement and accept your apology. Besides, I don't have the shoes to go with it."

"Choose the black one or I'm pissing with or without you in the room. And a word of warning, I think a number two may be coming up on the horizon sweetheart."

"You're disgusting." You snap, grabbing all the dresses from the shower curtain rail and swiftly retreating from the room. You can hear Agent Bennett's unique chuckle echo as you begin shutting the door behind you, and you refuse to believe it's why your heart feels like it's beating a million beats a second hard against your rib cage.

You stare in the mirror as you place the black dress in front of yourself in an attempt to see how it looks, and you can't help but think damn. You look fucking hot.

As you walked beside Agent Bennett arm in arm into the restaurant, you swore you could feel somebody's eyes resting on you. Even after the two of you had sat down and ordered some drinks, the back of your neck felt sweltering from the eyes of another.

“It’s cause of the dress.” Your pretend husband insisted as he sipped on some of the red wine. Apparently ordering a plain old lager wasn’t very upper class of him. “Your tits look really good in it.”

“Don’t look at my breasts agent Bennett!” You scowl, moving your arms to shield his and possibly even the other set of eyes from your slightly revealed skin.

“Maybe don’t call me agent Bennett whilst we’re undercover wifey.” He smirks, choosing to blissfully ignore your previous demand.

“Fine! Husband, do not stare at my breasts in public.”

“So you’re fine with me going it in the privacy of our room? Good to know.”

“If we weren’t in public right now I swear I’d-“

“Are you both ready to order some starters?” A voice interrupts you admittedly with a start. When you turn around a relatively young man possibly even younger than yourself stands there in a fancy suit and a small notebook in hand. He’s got a charming smile you suppose, but the eyes tell an entirely different story as you can see him very clearly taking the opportunity to look down the front of your dress.

“I’ll take the dived scallops with charred leak, onion broth and pink purslane.” You snap the starter menu shut loudly which thankfully draws the attention of the waiter from your breasts. He even seems to be bashful as his face turns a light pink and he coughs a few times as he adjusts himself.

“And you sir?” He finally squeezed, turning to Tom who looked at the man unimpressed as if he wasn’t doing practically the same thing not even five minutes ago.

“I’ll take the same as my wife.” Tom emphasizes those last two words firmly while he glares at the poor boy who begins to stutter out an apology towards you.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am! I'll send someone else over to take the rest of your order!" And like that, the lad runs off with his tail between his legs, leaving you with a distinct yet mixed feeling of both shame and gratitude, while Tom begins to chug the rest of his glass of wine and refills the empty glass with a smile like the cat who ate the canary.

Five minutes go by filled only with the background noise of the restaurant's classical music and the conversations of other hotel guests, and finally another person comes over dressed in the same looking suit.

"Hi my name is Henriette and I shall be taking the rest of your order and helping you with any issues you may or may not face for the rest of the evening. I see my colleague has already taken your starters, but could I please have the rest of your intended food order?" Compared to the other guy, this woman certainly acts like she belongs here.

"I'm afraid to say my dear that my husband is very particular with his food order so I will be deciding for him or else we'll both end up going hungry! I shall have for my main the ratatouille, while he'll have the beef carbonnade. For desserts, me and my husband will each have a chocolate ganache cake with the amarena cherries.”

“Perfect choice Madame!” Henriette smiles as she takes the yours and Tom’s menus before nodding her head to you slightly and walking away.

“I’m very particular with my food?”

“Yes. Like a child who refuses to eat their vegetables because they’re green.”

“I would take offence to that if it wasn’t true.” Tom admits, even shrugging his shoulders while you giggle slightly at his action.

The rest of the evening is filled with chatter and smiles that are not as reluctant as you’d like to admit. That stare you felt at the beginning of the night washes away as you concern yourself with Tom and his antics that leave your cheeks aching from how relaxed you've been with him.

The food soon arrives one after another, and each time a plate is placed in front of Tom he gives you a look of untrustworthiness as he raises his fork and moves to take a bite. Yet every time he does this he gives you a look of satisfying defeat which you always respond with a smile.

By the time the desserts arrive, Tom has eaten every bite of the food you chose for him, and you remember that fact distinctively so you could rub it in his face later on.

"So... how's the food been?" You can't help but ask as you savor the way too overpriced little cake that's about the same size as the distance between your thumb and your palm.

"They've been pretty good." He grunts, eyes focused on the cake he doesn't care about the size of, only the rich taste and the thought of how younger he would've killed for this sort of food.

"Pretty good? If we weren't in public I'd think you were about to lick the goddamn plate."

"Not my fault the portions are small as fuck."

"Tom, don't swear in public, it's unbecoming!"

"Jesus what are you my father now? Or my sister?"

"Tom, what are you talking about?" Your brow furrows in confusion at Tom's sudden change in mood. Where was that person who half an hour ago was joking and riling you up with only the topic of your own boobs for gods sake and who is this moody teenager that replaced him?

"Cause I know you're just putting up with me cause you were assigned to me." he begins, but pauses to refill his glass. That's when you realise exactly why his tongue seems to be so loose and why his mood is so well, moody. Tom Bennett has allowed himself to indulge practically at the very start of the mission and is now sitting in front of you pissed as a sea sailor on bloody red wine of all things. "You're probably thinking about how pathetic I am right now! Oh how pathetic is it that top agent Bennett is getting drunk so early!"

"Jesus Christ Tom, can you keep it together!" You attempt to whisper, but ultimately fail as you see everyone is slowly beginning to turn to look at the two of you including the waitress from earlier.

So in an attempt to halt the damage already made, you grab Tom's arm and try to pull him from his chair so you can drag him back to your room and let him sleep this mood swing off. Though that's about as effective as running through water as he just slumps against you and nearly knocks you straight to the floor, training be damned it seems.

"Do you wish for me to help you Madame? I could get someone at the front desk to help?" The familiar voice of Henriette says.

"No thank you I am perfectly capable Henriette. I am used to dragging my husband away when he's gotten into one of his moods. As much as he denies it every time he has never been very good at holding his alcohol no matter the amount of times he does it." You have to force yourself to act calm and like a true high class lady, but anyone with eyes could see how frustrated you were at that moment as you refrained yourself from whacking Tom over the head and teaching him a lesson.

You somehow manage to get Tom out of the dining hall with the stares of every man and woman in that room no doubt judging your sham of a marriage with their eyes and tongues. Just as you're about to leave though, you suddenly remember the bill and almost go straight back leaving Tom in the middle of the corridor whilst you sort it out, but then with a sigh of utmost gratitude you also remember how it'll be charged at the end of your stay.

“Where are you taking me, wife?” He grumbles, feeling you stop him so suddenly he gets the urge to throw up.

“Back to our room husband. Because of you and your inability to hold your alcohol, our mission may have failed before it even began.”

This time, the hotheaded agent doesn’t have a response to give you. Instead, he just closes his eyes and leans himself against you, allowing himself to be dragged to the room. In the elevator though there is some elderly woman decked to the dimes in diamonds and sapphires who gives the two of you a knowing look from where she stands.

“Long night?” She asks you, staring straight ahead as the doors close behind you.

“Tell me about it…” You laugh, grunting as Tom begins to slip and you’re forced to pull him up further against you. She laughs with you with a look in her eyes as if she’s remembering something long ago, and with that the conversation between you ends.

She gets off on the next floor, and you and Tom manage to make it back to your room giving the impression of a young dutiful wife just taking her drunk husband back to their room.

Soon as you get inside, you chuck Tom off you onto the sofa and chuckle as you imagine him waking up in the middle of the night with a sore back and his evening clothes.

You change into comfy pajamas you packed and get into bed, almost falling straight to sleep with how comfy the bed and pillows are, but not before listening to the sound of Tom's snoring that sends you into a deep sleep.

When you wake on the morning of the mission to the sound of your alarm, you can’t help but allow your eyes to be drawn to the sofa where you expect to see Toms drooped over a wine stinking body. Only there’s no one there.

“Tom?” You call out as you step out the bed and make your way to the bathroom thinking maybe he’s in there throwing up his insides. Only when you hear no response or even any throwing up noises do you enter to find it in the exact same way you left it this morning.

When you touch the sofa you take note of how it’s slightly cold to the touch, and can’t help yourself but think about Tom possibly staggering from his seat late at night whilst you slept and got himself in trouble.

The anxiety gnaws at your mind as the possibilities of what could’ve happened to him keep coming at you.

Where did he go?

What if he went looking for more alcohol in a dingy bar somewhere and got caught?

What if he’s lying somewhere dead?

By the time you come around your nails are half shredded and your legs are shaking slightly from how long you’ve been standing up. And to keep yourself sane for the time being you find yourself for the first time ever texting Agent Tom Bennett.

The agency for every new case assigns the agent a different phone with all the information and numbers needed. You’d been given yours after the debriefing, and yet somehow Tom had already begun to spam you with random texts throughout the day.

What is your favourite food? What's your drink of choice? What’s your favourite colour?

You never answered, partially because leaving him on read was an exhilarating experience. So texting him now felt strange to do.

Where are you?

You texted him that first. But after five minutes of watching the pixilated words be left unanswered and unread you sent him another.

I hope your having the worst hangover of your life. You deserve it after last night and how you acted. Show up to the mission sober if you can go so long without a drink I’m surprised the so great agent Bennett is an alcoholic

You take a break staring in order to take a shower and hopefully clear your thoughts. As you step out the bathroom and begin to towel dry your hair you hear your phone ping with a notification, and it’s as if rocks have been tied to your feet with how heavy they feel walking to your phone.

You open it with a hitched breath, and you almost get the urge to chuck it straight out the balcony doors when you see the message.

Didn’t think you’d have worried about little old me that much Mrs. And don’t worry, my hangover, which I’m sad to report is practically non existant, will probs be gone before the mission even begins. I’ll meet you there when you need me.

And when you think it’s over, he sends another

By the way it’s you’re when speaking bout my headache love, not your ;)

“Bastard.” You groan this time chucking yourself against the bed. Why does he take such pleasure in your annoyance? Why does he seem to enjoy making your life so hard?

In the end in an attempt to take your mind off the hurricane that was Tom Bennett you switch your phone off and spend the whole day in your hotel room fixing yourself up for this evening.

You firstly treat yourself to room service breakfast involving pancakes, croissants, bacon and the whole nine dimes. Then after cleaning yourself up you got onto the actual dressing up aspect.

The dress as soon as you had arrived in the room yesterday was hung up on a hook from within its protective bag in the wardrobe, and when you retrieve it and unravel it you go just as breathless as you were when you first saw it.

The blue is still as breathtaking and the length still as satisfactory. You almost get the girlish urge to put it on now and twirl around like how you did as a child in your Disney princess costume, but stop yourself as you remember Stan warning you not to crease the dress at all, so to be safe you zip the protective cover straight back up and close the wardrobes door firmly to be safe.

So you move on to trying on everything else. The bra you plan to wear isn't too important as the dress will cover up your shoulders so that's out of the way.

The shoes take up some time but in your opinion not long enough. Since practically as soon as the questions come at you their answers come shooting in quick succession behind them. The question on what was nonexistent as since you knew dancing was going to happen whether by the agencies demand or even Toms, heels were out of the question. And since there were few other shoes packed for you in your suitcase you soon found yourself with some dark navy kitten heels that managed to make you feel elegant and safe at the same time.

Makeup though was your biggest time consumer though. You spent hours thinking about what was suitable and what was not with all the products that had been packed all laid out on the dresser table in front of you.

You couldn't put too much on, as then everyone would stare and you might as well cancel the mission before it's even begun. Though you couldn't go without any or be super subtle with it all or else even then you'll get judgemental stares from people. So you spend quite a bit of time in front of the mirror putting various different products on your face and finally after what thankfully feels like forever, you find a style that suits both you and the mission at hand perfectly.

When experimenting, you did debate on possibly wearing something you think would interest the man whose house you're infiltrating, but you soon put that thought to bed when the con list became longer than the pros, not that there was even anything on there in the beginning. You had no idea what he was truly like behind closed doors apart from of course betraying his country and his people that is.

Though the one you wear now, it makes you feel powerful.

It’s a good mixture of subtle yet striking, with the use of eyeliner forcing people to look into your eyes. There’s only a little conditioner and foundation to cover up a few spots and blemishes. The only other thing you decide to use make-up wise is some lipstick that’s a little darker than your natural lip shade.

You decide to take it off as it’s still a while before you need to leave before the ball, so to waste time you do what you never would’ve done before this mission.

You sat on the bed in a complimentary dressing gown, ordered some fancy lunch, and watched reality tv. You watch it all as you eat without any complaints. It feels like you were a teenager all over again without a care in the world.

Though soon the time ticks away and it’s about time for you to get changed into your outfit and prepare your weapons. A small pistol strapped to your thigh. A signet looking ring on your ring finger that when activated, could deliver 50 thousand volts to whoever is unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. And your personal favourite, a pepper spray that’s disguised to look like a shade of red lipstick.

When that’s all sorted though and hidden away from the public eye, only then do you dare turn your phone back on. You don’t really know what to expect. Messages from Tom begging for forgiveness? A message from your supervisor saying you’re gonna be extracted as Toms blew the mission?

You will say what you do find when you turn your phone. Nothing. No messages, no notifications, nothing.

It’s a blow to the stomach but you take it on the chin and deal with it, especially when it's Tom you’re dealing with.

Walking down to the lobby to get to the car that’ll bring you to the rich guy's mansion, you can feel the stares of others on your skin as you walk. To keep appearances you simply sway your hips as you pass to show you are unbothered by your past, and smile at yourself like you own the world.

Which you certainly feel like when you realise the car that’ll be dropping you off is a smaller yet still classy limousine, even equipped with an equally handsome man who opens the door for you to get in.

“Good evening Mrs Carrington,” The kind man begins as you slowly sway closer. “My name is Webster, and I shall be your chauffeur for the duration of this service. There are drinks within the back as-well as many small snacks in case you were feeling particularly peckish. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No thank you Webster I believe any I thought of have already been answered.” You just simply say with a smile of gratitude as you duck into the car and let out a sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding as you sat down on the soft leather.

You turn your head slightly to get a look at these drinks and small snacks on offer, and it truly does seem all your questions have been answered as you meet the eyes of your pretend husband for the evening as he drinks at a bottle of unlabelled substance.

“I’d have thought after yesterday you’d avoid alcohol…” You can’t help but snidely comment, watching as he grumbles at it.

“I came back didn’t I? Ain’t that the most important thing?”

“The most important thing Bennett, is you making sure you don’t screw this mission over with your day drinking.” You respond, and in an act of retaliation that shocks even you, you make a grab at the bottle of drink and sniff at the top to try and tell what it is.

Though you suppose it’s even more shocking for you to discover that the bottle doesn’t smell like cheap booze as you thought it was, but actually it was the scentless yet still recognisable scent of water.

“Not had a drop since yesterday.” Tom sneers, grabbing back the bottle to take another swig. "Wouldn't want to embarrass the perfect little agent anymore than I already have."

"Don't call me that Bennett." You snap, looking at him with hate in your eyes as you try to think back to the nice man you talked with yesterday.

"Why not Mrs? Aren't you the one who's got the 100% success rate in all their missions? The one who always catches the bad guy with not a single scratch on her soft delicate skin?" Tom continues to antagonise you and you swear you're this close to yanking that bottle from his hands and whacking him to death with it in this very car.

"Let's just focus on the mission, husband, so then this can all be over and done with and we can go back to never talking too or even better not even seeing each other again. Alright?"

"Fine..." He amusingly grumbles as he slumps further into the seat. "Run the plan by me again Mrs as I'm sure you've memorised it all already."

"I actually have, but if you insist. We get into the venue posing as Mr and Mrs Carrington, then socialise for a bit to appear as the average bourgeoisie couple, maybe even dance a bit if we need to. After that we head to the politician's office to extract the information from the hard drive within the vault. Hopefully we should be out and back in bed before midnight. Any questions?"

Tom, deciding to be the class clown in a car of only three people, raises his hand as if in a classroom. "I've got a question Mrs! Who said anything about dancing?"

"The supervisor did. As according to him we need to fit in as much as possible and that includes dancing whether you like the idea or not. Oh, and one more thing silly old me forgot to mention. Don't flirt with any lonely wives or daughters."

"Oh come on Mrs don't you think I have some self restraint?" He attempts to laugh with a smile on his face that soon much to your own amusement however, is quickly wiped away when he sees the dead seriousness of your expression and voice. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Well within the first full day of knowing me you got drunk as a sailor after being honest for two seconds with me, then left in the middle of the night to do god knows what in the streets. So yes Agent Bennett, that is what I think of you."

"You remind me of my sister... I don't say that often or with great pleasure..." Tom grumbles while you yourself find yourself acting surprised at his words.

"You've got a sister?" You find yourself asking.

"Yeah. Lois. The brains of the family while I got the looks. Was a singer in a pub before she got the qualifications after having a baby to become a nurse at some great big hospital. Dad's little brainy-box while I'm sitting in a jail cell for another night." This time, you don't say the words that immediately pop into your head. As even as helpful as they will try to sound you know he'll take it as pity whichever way you say it. "Though I suppose I got the looks at least! We can agree on that, can't we missus! What you say after this we go to the pub? My treat!"

And with not even what you could say a snap of the fingers the energetic careful Agent Bennett returns. Along with the urge to smack him round the head with one hand while with the other you call HR.

"And do what? Just drinking?" You find yourself asking.

"Sure! And maybe more if you feel like it. No pressure at all! I do like my ladies, consenting I'll have you know!"

"Oh great you like the basic rules of sex. Good to know..." You grumble, and with your last strand of patience snapping, you find a small bottle of fruity cider you remember drinking back when you were a uni student and taking a swig.

"Now who needs to be told to watch their liquor!" Tom laughs.

"Shut it or I'm throwing you out of the car myself and making you walk."

"But I dunno where I'll be heading sweetheart!"

"Then ask a local for directions."

"But I don't speak french?"

"39% of the French population say they can speak English. With how much of a talker you tend to be, I'm sure you won't have much of an issue finding someone!"

After yours and Tom's little marital spat, as Tom himself called it as he grumbled like a toddler slouching against the seats, the rest of the ride to the estate was filled with silence. Occasionally the sound of a honking car or the regular noises of the bustling city life broke the silence, but apart from that you and Tom made no effort to get along.

You sometimes take a sip of the cider you opened without much thought, and you regret very soon as the taste washes over your tongue. There’s a reason why you drank this at uni. It’s cheap, it’s strong, and after a couple bottles you can’t remember your own name.

“We’re about five minutes from the location Mr and Mrs Carrington,” The driver says through the little intercom. “I suggest you start thawing out before the entrance.”

You and Tom look at each other from the corner of your eyes, and deep down know the man is right. Even if the two of you couldn’t stand each other right now, for the sake of the country as much as Tom claims to hate it you both do not want the innocent people to suffer.

“Fine.” You spit.

“Fine.” Tom grumbles back.

So like the loved-up couple you were both playing to be, with neither knowing who began moving first, yours and Tom's hand found each other and clutched together in a firm embrace.

When the both of you get out of the car at the front of the politician's house, your hands still clutch hard against one another as you both adorn the masks you’ve been given to conceal your identity.

In an almost ironic turn of events, you were given the mark of the devil, and Tom the mask of the angel.

"Looking good Mrs." You hear Tom say.

"Save it!" You simply snap back with your eyes facing straight forward. If he wants to try and make you begin liking him again with simple words, he's gonna have to try much harder than that. Preferably on his knees, but you don't mind as long as he truly shows his regret.

And with how you can practically hear him rolling his eyes at you, you know he'll at this point need to be doing a lot more than getting on his knees for you if you had anything to say to him.

The target as expected wasn't at the door to greet his guests. Instead, he simply walked around the rooms like God's greatest gift and allowed them the honour of approaching.

Only he wasn't going to be the spider standing idly by waiting for the fly to come to him. Tonight, he was the ignorant fly while you and Tom sat perched in your little web, venom ready awaiting the right moment to strike.

"You seen him yet angel?" Tom murmurs against your ear as he leads you into the main ball room with his hand perched firmly on your lower back. You can feel the warmth of his palm alone through the fabric of your clothes, and you hate the way it makes your stomach churn in a way that leaves you craving for more.

"If I saw him, I'd tell you." You just simply say, turning your head away from him as you still feel where his breath had tickled you. Somehow though, you didn't manage to pluck the courage inside you to move from his hand that still firmly imprints itself against you.

You can hear him lightly chuckle beside you, and with a quick yet heavy sip of the complimentary champagne you were offered when you both walked through the door, the mission began.

With every step forward you felt daggers piercing the back of your neck, and with every sudden high pitched laugh belonging to some man's wife you felt the grip on Tom's arm suddenly tighten.

"What you doing that for?!" He suddenly whispers after the fifth time.

"Something doesn't feel right..." You try to reason, resisting every urge to turn around.

"Oh I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realise I was partnered with the bloody girl who saw dead people."

"If we were not in this room full of people I want you to know I would've smacked you round the back of the head for that."

"Careful love. If you do it I may just like it."

"Save it for the gullible women you manage to con into sleeping with you." You attempt to seem disgusted at his actions as you think about how many women seem to be affected by Tom's typical charm, but then you're reminded that you were one of the women who'd fallen victim to his boyish-like smiles and his dopey laugh. You'll never admit this to anyone, but your face may have turned a little pink at the memory.

"Only if that gullible woman is you my sweet." Tom quips right back, smiling at you in such a way it feels like your heart may beat out of your chest. Yet to stop him from charming you anymore, you just roll your eyes and nudge Tom into the direction of the bar.

"Thought you said I wasn't allowed to drink?

"I did. It's just the extra cherry on top of the milkshake being able to drink in front of you. Like eating chocolate in front of a child past its bed time." You grin, ordering a double gin and tonic and finishing that first sip with an exaggerated sigh. "Husband, would you mind paying the bartender for my drink pretty please? I seem to have left my purse at home!"

"Any man that makes his wife pay for her own drinks looking like that in that dress is no man." The bartender comments, looking you up and down as he takes Tom's card and puts it through the machine. While the man's back is turned for a moment you can't help but observe him.

You recognise him from the list of employees you looked at before arriving tonight. His name is Henry Clarkes, a ginger middle aged man from Exeter currently on his 3rd marriage collapse. Though to be fair, that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't gotten another girl even younger than yourself pregnant with his 4th child. Though that's just your opinion...

By your side Tom grumbles something illegible as he stares daggers into the back of the man's head. And to your surprise, he only manages to push out an obviously strained thanks that even the man behind the bar chuckles at. So before Tom takes it upon himself to leap across that bar and beats the man black and blue, you take Tom's hand firmly in your own to squeeze it tight and drag him away from the scene.

"Bet you loved that." He says soon as you're far enough away. "But you would've taken him into our hotel room if I wasn't there!"

"Fucks sake Tom if i'd have known you were just as a dickhead sober I would've gotten you a drink before we came here. Maybe it would've made you more bearable..."

"So you don't deny it!" He growls, pulling you with a yelp as he forces you to a wall at the edge of the party. "You would've fucked him in our bed?"

"Jesus Tom no I would not have fucked that random man in our hotel bed!" You try to whisper, but it's sort of hard too when there's gossipy women practically circling you where you stand. "Unlike you, I don't sleep with random people I've met in the span of less than a minute!"

"I don't do that anymore!" Is that his defence? Really?

"Since when? This morning!?"

"Since I realised I'd be working with you a few weeks ago." It's the way he says it so quickly you suppose is what makes you so flustered. The way he had no hesitation in the words as if he had been waiting to say them all his life.

"Tom... I-"

"My my and who are these two lovebirds tucked away in the corner?" A voice suddenly says, bursting the two of you out of whatever trance you were entrapped in. You both turn to this person, and you have to physically stop yourself from reacting when you recognise them. The exact man whose home and party you just sneaked into, the corrupt french politician.

"I'm Dahlia Carrington monsieur, and this is my husband Thomas! I apologise for our behaviour, we were just having a little argument and-"

"Oh no need to apologise mademoiselle! I myself have at least one argument a day with my own wife!" That's cause you've been cheating on her with the nanny of your four children all under the age of 12. If it wasn't so sad to think about given the age gap, you'd have laughed at the cliche of it all. "Let me guess! She's been hitting the cards and the drinks a little too hard huh?"

Did this man really just manage to call you a gold-digger and some kind of alcoholic all in one insult? You think he did. Tom thinks it too, by the way he seems to glare the same kind of despising glaring at this man just like how he did at the bartender.

"Sure." Tom grits out, his jaw clenched down hard. You look down, and see that even his whole body is reared up.

Yet it seems this man is as dense as his security is, since he just keeps on talking.

"You know what you need to do son? Need to get her on a tighter leash if you ask me!" If Tom doesn't hit him, you definitely will at this point. "Maybe even give her a child! Cause I can tell from her figure alone that she hasn't had any yet! But trust me on this, only have a single son! Cause then you've got the heir, the wife off your back, and a still tight one when you need it! Oh, and by the way mademoiselle, you may want to smile a bit more. Makes you look all wrinkled and old."

How is this man smiling right now at you? He has just told you that you were pretty much just at best, a childbearing sex doll for your husband, and he's just standing there with the biggest fucking grin on his face drinking some million dollar looking champagne. How fucking dare?

"Ooh! I must be off now! There are so many guests to see and so little time... au revoir my good friends!" He smiles, disappearing into the crowd of the bourgeoisie, leaving you and Tom at the edge with anger written clearly on both your faces.

"I'm gonna kill him." You say first.

"Not if I do it first." Tom responds immediately after. "I'll push him down the stairs so everyone will claim it was cause he was drunk."

"I was just gonna shoot him in the head."

"Wouldn't that blow our cover?" Tom curiously asks, turning to you while you look back at him with a unique smile on your face that Tom can't help but cause a shiver to run up his spine.

"Doesn't matter to me. At least I get the satisfaction of knowing I rid the world of another patriarchal dickheaded twat..." You firmly say, watching Tom's mouth slowly turn into an almost impressed smirk.

"Fair enough wife. Fair enough."

Tom takes your hand in his as he slowly directs you through the room till you get to the staircase to the upper floors. Thankfully they haven't been shut off to the public, and instead people are being encouraged to look around and marvel at all the weird and frankly sort of disturbing memorabilia adorning the walls, such as stuffed animals being glass and paintings of worryingly young girls.

"His office is another floor up. If we continue looking like some regular prissy couple then we can get there easy." He says directing you further down the corridor to yet another set of stairs.

"If I knew I'd need to be climbing up so many stairs I'd have requested the costume team to have packed me more comfortable shoes..." You grumble as Tom looks over his shoulder to merely laugh at your pain.

"Awe, is the poor little lady unhappy she has to climb some simple stairs?" He pouts as he tilts his head, laughing loud at how you scowl at him. "I would've thought little miss perfect would've actually looked at the mission plans before this. My my was the mrs slacking?"

"Idiot." You simply sigh, rolling your ankles as soon as you get to the next floor. "I did look at the plans I'll have, you know! It's not my fault that it was never specified the height of the stairs..." You mumble. You can see Tom laugh slightly with a delighted twinkle in his eye as he looks at your pouting lips. He sure loves to see you suffer....

"I mean I could've carried Mrs up if her royal highness had asked me." Tom shrugs, laughing as you take the time to wack him on his upper arm with the back of your hand. "Hey hey hey Mrs don't hit our loving devoted husband! I did offer!"

"Yeah, when we were already up the stairs!"

"At least I offered at all! Besides, the office is just up here. You've stretched your ankle enough." Tom groans, grabbing you by the wrist this time to lead you. You grumble behind him as you look around at the corridor for any cameras and any extra security.

You spot three cameras already by the time you both get to the door, and tap Tom's hand to let him know. Thankfully you can't see anything else that would get in the way of the mission like a keypad or a retinal scanner. If you had to admit, it was sort of basic considering what information the man was storing and with how much money he had.

"You got it?" He pulls you in close to murmur against your ear. To those currently watching, it would've looked like a husband leaning in to whisper some romantic words to his wife.

"Of course." You simply murmur back, fiddling with your earring as you find the tiny switch and press it. It's amazing what kind of technology the intelligence lab can come up with, as to any other person looking at you they may have thought you were wearing simple ordinary earrings. But, in actuality they were specially designed in order to, when having the switch pressed, would expel a small burst of electromagnetic waves that'd disrupt the cameras feed, giving the organisation enough time to replace it with a fake copy. "Should be replaced now."

Usually, the organisation would have people on hand to hack into the cameras and change the feed. But apparently they couldn't do it within the time they got to the secure location and the time you'd be getting to the location. So for the time being, the earrings had to do.

"Then let's get inside. Stupid bastard doesn't even have a lock on the door." He laughs, stepping inside and closing it behind you. "He even left his safe in clear view of the room! What a twat!"

"Careful Tom!" You can't help but say, watching as he strides across the room with no possible caution for danger. "We don't know exactly what sort of security this man has on his safe!"

"Then I suppose we better figure it out then Mrs." He continues to smile, this time walking directly up to the safe as he puts on a pair of gloves you didn't know where he was even hiding them. "Seems pretty simple to me..."

Tom puts his head against the cool material of the box and slowly begins to turn the dial ever so slowly so he can hear the distinct clicks from within. Slowly you walk up behind him and watch him as he works, which gives you a view of something you had no idea you'd be interested in viewing.

From where you stood you could see Tom's long nimble hands work as they touch the dial and in a strange way stroke the surface of the safe as he moves his hand. If you had to be honest with yourself, it's sort of hypnotising.

"You know I can feel you staring at me right Mrs?" Tom's cocky voice suddenly says, breaking you from whatever strange spell Tom's fingers had on you. He even turns to stare at you as he says this, and you can't find yourself even in the position to lie to yourself that Tom's grin doesn't make you feel like you have butterflies swarming right now in your stomach.

"Just open the safe Agent Bennett." You snarl, admittedly the nickname feeling strange against your tongue.

"My my back to the origins are we missus? Then it's a good thing I've got the perfect nickname for you and I'll never be using anything less for my favourite girl!" Tom turns back to the last few digits of the safe, and you're left with a blush you pray this man does not see. He still calls you Mrs after seeing how annoyed it got you. Just how long would it take to shake off the fact you blushed due to his charm?

"Are you almost done?" You ask, attempting to distract yourself and hope it goes down quickly.

"If you let me listen I'd be done quicker." He quips, letting out a loud "Aha!" when the final distinct tick sounds, and he's able to turn the wheel and open the safe door with a self-satisfied smile. "And you thought to doubt me?"

"Shut it." You sigh, stepping out the way as Tom swings the door out towards the two of you, to reveal another door.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tom groans, the sound of which you ignore as you walk up to it and see what it is you're dealing with. Unlike the security on the last door, this one is equipped with a key pad with numbers zero through nine, and no real indication on how long the sequence needed to be.

Yet that doesn't appear to stop you as you try putting in the birthday of the nanny, to which an annoyingly loud noise sounds out indicating a failed attempt. "Two attempts remain." A male robotic voice says.

"What did you do!?" Tom shouts, forcibly grabbing your upper arm to turn you around and look at him.

"I took my shot." You simply say, taking Tom's arm in your hand and shoving it away so hard he steps back once. "And don't you dare touch me like that again Tom."

To your relief, he doesn't seem in the mood to pick a fight with you as he just grumbles under his breath staring at the door keeping the both of you from your mission.

Admittedly, you both stay where you stand for a few minutes thinking about possible numbers the politician would hold dear to him. Anything to do with his wife is immediately off the table such as anniversaries or her birthday. You'd thought he'd maybe take advantage of the nanny more than he had already, but that seems to be just as effective as the wife. That's when you suddenly get reminded of something he's said to Tom early while he was halfway through a misogynistic ramble he'd been on.

'But trust me on this, only have a single son!'

"Tom," You begin to ask, turning to said man who at the sound of his name looks back at you recognising the thinking expression on your face. "What was that thing the bastard was saying about his son?"

You say this rhetorically as you step closer and closer to the keypad with a grin as you enter the birth date of the politician's only son and youngest child, and are welcomed with the same robotic voice as before. "Welcome monsieur, to the vault." It simply says, before this time Tom's voice breaks through the silence.

"Fucking smarty pants!" He says as he moves in front of you. At first you think this is just another insult, but then you see the way his face is actually lit up in pride and realise quickly he's actually proud of you. "Knew you could do this Mrs!"

"Really?" You can't help but ask, watching as his face quickly turns serious as he looks at you. It's strange.

"Of course. You're smart, you are. More smarter than I could ever be. I mean, you actually listened to the French bastard while he was talking to us."

"You weren't?"

"No. I was just imagining my fists pummelling into his face till he swallows his own teeth and is forced to be put on life support in some shitty hospital that without him knowing bleeds his money dry as he fights for his life." He admits, watching you closely as you blink in surprise at the level of violence this man in front of you is willing to express.

"Damn... he must've pissed you off good Tom." You try to make the mood lighter, but still Tom's face stays oddly serious and calm.

"Of course he did. No one should get to talk about you like that in front of you, or even away from you, and get to smile like that ever again. Now let's get into this vault thing." Fuck. Here comes the blush and the feral butterflies in the stomach. A double whammy...

"Y-yeah lets!" You quickly say, standing close behind Tom as he opens the door and thankfully this time not revealing another door, but instead revealing a large room filled with a variety of things that would no doubt add up to millions, possibly even ranging into a billion pounds.

"Who even needs this?" Tom's voice suddenly rings out. You turn to the direction of where his voice came from, and begin to laugh hard when you see exactly what Tom is so confused by. A large bottle of what looked like it used to hold port, but now holds a deep amber coloured liquid that took you a second to realise what it is as well as some other bits floating about.

Agent Tom Bennett is holding in his hands a witches' bottle. AKA, a bottle filled with some random person's piss, toe nails, hair and other various bodily things.

You must've made him nervous as for the first time you think since the mission started he says your name in a meek manner. "What am I holding..."

"You, you're holding some poor person's piss!" You laugh, practically wheezing with no consideration for noise levels as you watch Tom's face contort into one of pure disgust and horror. He manages to put it down as gently as a man who just discovered he's holding a bottle of piss can be, yet it still manages to make you laugh so hard you almost fall over.

"That's fucking disgusting!" The poor man shouts, staring at the offending item with deeply furrowed eyebrows and hateful eyes. "Why the fuck would anyone want that?!"

"I dunno. People used to make them in order to draw in and trap harmful intentions directed at their owners like evil spirits or counteract witches spells. It's sort of cool, when you get past the fact that it's basically just piss and nails and other bodily stuff in a jar."

"Still fucking disgusting. Let's just find this stupid hard drive..." He grumbles, rubbing the hand that touched the bottle on his suit.

You continue to giggle behind Tom as you follow him through the assortment of items. By the looks of it, basically all of it has been organised into sort of sections, making the look for the area with the electronics much easier for the two of you.

After some time looking through some boxes of various things, you find a hard drive labelled with the dangerous info the politician was storing. You'll be honest, it almost felt too easy finding it.

"That's it?" You hear Tom comment from behind as you turn around to face him with the device within your pointing finger and thumb.

"That's it." You shrug, stepping forward to adjust Tom's suit jacket so you can get to the small inside pocket and place the device inside it. It's a little bigger than what was expected, but it still fits just fine within its containment.

"Are we done now," Tom starts to murmur, making you realise the position you were in. You were standing barely a breath away from him, still holding his jacket lapel with your hands keeping him close. You swear you can feel his breath fan against your face, your own face though being pulled straight out of your lungs when you for certain feel his hands slowly move to touch your waist. "I was beginning to enjoy my time with you. Maybe we can fit in a dance before we leave, huh missus?"

You can barely find yourself able to speak as you're frozen where you stand. You can barely manage to nod as you can only find yourself praying for your life that the blush on your face isn't as noticeable as you feel it being.

"Y-yeah." You finally manage to strain out, not even able to look at him as you try to focus on instead of his face a small stain near his chest pocket. Yet it seems Tom has other plans, as he removes one of the hands from your waist to your chin, which he uses only two of his fingers to gently move your head up and force you to look at him eye to eye.

You feel your eyes drawn upwards to look at his face, yet even that action doesn’t last long as you suddenly find yourself staring at his lips while he moistens them with his tongue. They’re a pretty shade of pink, and under the harsh light overhead you can swear you find them glistening slightly.

You murmur Tom's name under your breath lightly, and your eyes close as you feel his hands curl tightly around your body with a sense of possessiveness you never thought you’d get from him.

As you begin to lean closer, feeling his warm breath slowly cause goosebumps to raise all along the length of your arms, you can feel your eyes slowly close as you begin to wonder how this situation has occurred, and why the hell does it feel so right to do?

That is however, till you hear faint footsteps that sound like they're coming closer.

"Do you hear that?" You murmur as you open your eyes slightly to look at Tom, who to your slight amusement is still stuck within the moment. His eyes are still closed, and his mouth slightly puckered as he still tries to inch himself closer and closer.

"I didn't hear anything." He quickly says, not opening his eyes or anything. "Just get over here so I can-"

"They're over here!" A voice shouts in the distance, finally forcing Tom to accept the moment is over, and open his eyes to see your 'i told you so' expression.

Tom grumbles some incoherent words under his breath as he takes his gun out from his hidden inner pocket before turning to you. "Don't think this is over missus." He simply says, before turning to the direction of where the shouting came from.

You yourself just roll your eyes as you retrieve your own pistol still firmly strapped against your leg, and follow behind Tom as you both try to get some cover underneath all the ornaments and objects placed amongst each other.

There is only one main walkway that is designed to showcase every item as you walk around the room, but that doesn't mean people can't make their paths, as demonstrated when Tom walks head first through a rack of old animal fur coats. As the two of you begin to get closer to the exit, the sound of talking gets louder the more steps you take, and you both duck for cover behind a huge set of antique chests of drawers.

"Do we know how many are here?" You hear one of them say, followed by a symphony of guns being reloaded one after another. By the sounds of the guns alone, there's got to be around an even 10 guards ready to shoot you if given the command.

"The boss says can't be more than two." Another says soon after, most likely the squad leader if he's the one answering the questions. "They can't be too far, so fan out and shoot only to disarm or incapacitate. The boss wants us to question them to find out who they work for."

You and Tom from where you both are hiding look at each other in mutual understanding as the promise makes its way through both your heads at the same time. Don't leave the other behind no matter what.

Even though you had both gone through with missions that slipped last second and been tortured by one too many people, even though you both knew the other could handle it the silent declaration still happened without a shadow of a doubt. Neither Tom nor you could bear to think of the other person being hurt by this French asshole.

"Any idea how to dodge these French pricks?" Tom asks as he turns to you, much to your surprise.

"Huh... and here I thought that you'd be all ready to shoot first escape later. What's changed? Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking? Trip on some old Victorian teddy bear?" You can't help but laugh, watching Tom's face doesn't even turn to a simple smirk as he answers.

"Can't have my missus getting hurt. So have you got a plan or do we need to fall back onto the shoot first plan?"

You hate to admit it, but it's at that moment when you finally realise why it had felt so right to be in his arms. Somehow between the chaos of the mission and the short but sweet moments together, you'd fallen for the man worse than James Bond himself, Agent Tom Bennett.

"I think I can see the entrance door from here. The guards have started fanning out more in the middle of the room, which is their mistake thinking we'd still be cowering in the back corner. If we're silent and don't draw attention, then I think we can get out of the room without gunfire and any unnecessary attention. Got that?" You finally say, turning to him and watching as he nods his head in return to your question.

"Got it missus. Take the lead." He says, gesturing his hand in a random direction. You roll your eyes at the nickname but less due to annoyance, and more due to amusement that he still insists on using it even though by now, the disguises have long since crumpled away.

Still, you say nothing and just gesture for him to follow you, which he does in a heartbeat. You can hear the heavy footsteps of the guards in the distance but to your and Tom's relief they go quieter instead of louder, indicating that the group were still making their way to the back of the room.

You make your way through all manner of objects in an attempt to stay away from the main path that stays primarily visible most of the length of the way. You pass rugs, more furniture similar to those earlier sets of drawers, faberge eggs, and even coincidentally old stuffed toys.

Soon, the view of the office you had passed to sneak in came into view. It was so close. You could not tell if there were any guards on the outside which was good for the both of you, as it seems these guards were dumber than they looked.

You turned around to check that Tom had successfully followed behind you with all the twists and turns through the junk, only as you did so, you managed to catch just in time Toms shoulder banging into wobbly piece of display furniture, causing an expensive yet boring looking vase to come toppling down and smash against the hard floor.

"For fucks sake..." You mumble as shouts go off in the distance in chime with heavy footsteps that inch close and closer towards you both.

"Sorry!" Tom yells at you as he leaps up and begins firing like crazy in an attempt to get these guys before they get either of you. You have to sigh in defeat at the turn of events before you also begin to fire at these men with everything you got while also moving backwards towards the exit.

For a minute, all you could hear was gunshot after gunshot, mixed in with the sounds of the guards screaming in pain when either you or Tom managed to get one. But that all changed when you felt one of the last guards bullets burying itself within your shoulder, bringing you down hard against the floor with a surprised scream.

You can hear Tom yell out your name as the last rounds of gunfire go off. As soon as the sounds stop you feel Tom's arms enveloping you so he can pull you closer and assess the wound.

"Shit shit shit you ok missus? Where'd it hit?" Tom begs, his voice frantic as he sees the hole in you gushing blood by the second. He doesn't know if the bullet has done any more damage other than the initial tissue damage, such as bone fracture or nerve injury. If Tom doesn't get you help soon, there's a chance with those nasty ass bullets you could get an infection within the wound.

"Come on darling let's get you safe." Tom says as he takes off his suit jacket and rips off a large section of the back to create a make-shift sling for you. As soon as he deems it tight enough, Tom pulls you up and places your uninjured arm around his neck so he can support you and make sure you leave this place by his side.

Every few steps Tom takes with you on his arm he is watching the surroundings carefully with his gun in easy reach. The previous gunfire must have alerted someone else about their presence, but to Tom's surprise there was no one. No other guards springing out of walls with their guns ready to blow his and your brains out. No evil bad guy with a pathetic monologue on the tip of his tongue. It's as if they were letting him and you walk out of there free with just the gunshot wound. How the hell could it be that simple?

"You still awake missus?" Tom asks, his lips crooked as he attempts to smile for you to show nothing could be worse, even though it easily most definitely could've been. You manage to groan a small response in return, and even if he couldn't make out a single syllable, he'd recognise that smart mouthed sass of yours anywhere. "Yeah yeah I hear you... There's a car out front we can get away in fitted with medical supplies for yourself. Why we don’t get some small basic med kit to keep on hand in case this shit happens, I've got no clue..."

The mission was not supposed to go like this. It was supposed to end great. With the hard drive in the hands of the supervisor and Tom and you having dinner somewhere. Not with you leaning on him for the support while you practically bled out all because of him.

Tom can hear the blood droplets hitting the once pristine white flooring of the hallway, and each soft individual splatter sends a shiver up his spine. He has no idea why he cares so deeply about you right now, and why even the thought of you being permanently injured sends pure nausea down to his stomach. Yet he pushes the thought process down as he makes sure you don't end up losing consciousness right now. The hallway cameras should still be under the control of the organisations tech people by now, but Tom doesn't want to risk chances by lingering when he could be getting you to safety as quickly as possible.

So while making sure your body is fully supported, Tom leads you down the stairs and the other hallways to a more discreet exit away from the crowds of people still there in the ball. The music from before had been so loud that he doubts they heard anything. Plus, they were no doubt distracted with the copious amounts of alcohol they'd all been ingesting in the last couple hours. 

The camera's tom spots are all pointed away from the two of you as you make your way through the halls. The blood coming from your shoulder has slowly begun to lessen, yet still with the way your shoulder and the surrounding areas were beginning to go numb, you still could feel the faint trails trickling down your legs and hear the odd droplets fall to the floor.

"Almost there missus almost there..." Tom mutters, seeing the last door separating you both to the outside world. When he first tried to get through, the door stayed firmly shut even after Tom attempted to slam his body against it in an attempt to loosen it.

"Fucks sake!" He groans, looking down and seeing the simple key lock needed to escape. "Can afford to purchase all that useless shit and keep it behind an electronic keypad but can't be bothered to purchase an electronic lock for the front door..."

Tom carefully places you upright against the closest wall so he can kneel down and get a closer look at the problem. It's just a simple titan key needed, but seeing at how simple it is and where the door leads, it's probably in the pocket of one of the many waiters walking around, and Tom didn't exactly have the time to ask all of them which person had the key. So he did something he never thought he'd be putting to use in real life. Tom grabbed a bobby pin from within your hair, and stuck it within the key lock.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to get it right, but eventually after a couple hundred swears and scratches on his fingers, the door opens with a soft click and a small 'hurrah' from Tom himself. He even turns to you with a victorious smirk, which you return with another exhausted groan and even an exaggerated eye roll even though you begin to feel lightheaded with all the blood that's come out of you within the hour.

"Let's get you help missus."Tom grunts as he picks you back up from the floor and directs you to the direction of a car parked not too far from the entrance. It's smaller than the original limousine that brought you to the mission in the first place, but you can't help but faintly smile when you see the familiar face of Webster watching you from the driver's seat.

As soon as Tom sets you down inside the vehicle, you feel your body slump in the most unladylike of ways against the soft exterior of the car's seats and let out a sigh of relief that it's all over.

"I trust you know about removing a bullet Agent Bennett." Webster's voice rings out through the speaker as you feel the engine begin and the car drives off.

"Sarcastic bastard..." Tom murmurs as he swiftly takes the med kit from underneath the seat and opens it to take out the tweezers and the gauze and place them beside you on the seat. Next, he removes the piece of his suit he had used to originally stem the blood flow of the wound and rips your dress slightly so he can see your shoulder better without it interfering. You'll no doubt be pissed later, but he'll just send it to Stan later to get fixed.

With the barrier gone, blood flows more steadily than what it was a few minutes ago, but it doesn't matter right now as much as it does to make sure the bullet comes out fully. "This is going to hurt." Tom simply warns before he picks up the tweezers and begins to poke and prod his way inside of the wound.

It truly breaks his heart to hear your screams of pain, but he needs to persist and find this damn bullet. Thankfully it doesn't take too long, as with the combined layer of your dress and bra it managed to not let it go in as deep as it could've. So soon enough as the pesky bugger is soon plucked out and thrown somewhere within the car space while Tom quickly takes the gauze and wraps the wound tight.

"Feeling better missus?" He asks, forcing you to look at him as your eyes slowly regain a look of focus you minutes ago were losing fast.

"Yeah..." You manage to say, wincing as you move your shoulder slightly. "I'm alright. Thanks, for not leaving me in there."

"I'd never." Tom quickly says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows to further his point. "And besides, now that I know you're ok, I can continue where we left off."

"What do you mea-"

Before you can begin to question what Tom is trying to say, his lips capture yours, and your heart feels as though it stops mid-beat between your chest. You have no thoughts running through your head right now. Your focus being only on the calming warmth of Tom's lips and the faint taste of mint.

His hands cup your waist and face delicately as if you were made of pure glass. Yet as much as you enjoyed his tender touch, you didn't want Tom to think of you as delicate. You wanted him to hold you with the knowledge you could never crumble from him. For him to know he could never hurt you.

You never want this strange feeling of right to end, but when it eventually does, with the two of you both silently attempting to catch your breaths.

"Was that good?" Tom eventually asks, staring at you with hopeful eyes. "If I made you like uncomfortable or anything I'm sorry-"

"You didn't." You say with a smile as you lean forward to peck his lips again in a sweet kiss in reassurance. As you pull away, you can see Tom's lips turned in a bashful smile and his cheeks heat up to a light pink. If you were being honest, it was really fucking adorable. Words you never thought you'd ever say about agent Bennett in your life.

"Good." He simply says, focusing on the curves of your face and trying not to think about how his face is probably bright red due to embarrassment from being so soft with a girl. "Now let's get back to the hotel."

"Why are we going back to the hotel?" You ask, confusion in your voice.

"Cause I want you to get dressed up before I take you out for a date tonight. So shower, take as much time as you need to get ready, cause I want to make this as special for you as I ever could for you. Tell me your favourite food so I can book the best restaurant available for you. I'm sure Webster can deliver the hard drive when he returns the car."

"I can indeed sir." Webster says through the intercom, scaring the two of you as you both jump slightly in your seats. "Just pop it through the slot and I can take it straight to the supervisor no issue."

"Thank you Webster!" Tom grins as he takes the device and puts it through to the other side.

Webster takes it in his hand and places it within his own suit jacket pocket. His eyes are focused on the road, but he can't deny the warmth in his chest when he sees the two of you giggling and smiling between yourself in the backseat like a couple of lovesick teenagers. He drops you and Tom at the hotel as told, but he can't stop himself from watching the two of you enter the hotel together.

As soon as Tom had stepped out before you, he made sure to reach for your hand and help you step out like a proper gentleman, and the entire walk up to the hotel doors none of you made the step to let go.

Webster watched the two of you with a smile, as he thinks to himself, he has never seen a pair of people so in love with each other.

[blanceyblance]

A study on Lance's underrated role on the team.

Or, "Yes, there was a Space Mom"

Some time ago, I made a post saying that, the closest thing to a "Space Mom" the paladins ever had was actually Lance and I wanted to make a post elaborating more on why I thought so.

Now this is not me saying that we have to put this Team in neat nuclear family boxes, even Shiro, the one who the fandom collectively agrees to call "Space Dad" doesnt fit perfectly the Team Dad trope, but what I mean is that, this role is one that most of the time it appears naturally in any group of friends/people.

So, lets start with seeing how TVTropes describes what is a Team Mom:

"In an ensemble show, especially of the fighting kind, there needs to be someone to hold this Ragtag Bunch of Misfits together before they kill each other or wander off into the woods like so many Player Characters."

"The Team Mom basically acts as the mother figure for everyone else in the group, regardless of age or family relations."

"Although the role itself is traditionally female, the overprotective dad or older brother can qualify for Team Mom"

"They are by definition never the loner, and will in fact tend to be the one who pulls them into the cast's orbit as a Sixth Ranger. If anyone can break through and bring about a Heel–Face Turn or Cooldown Hug, it's them"

"if any of their surrogate children or siblings are threatened, they can snap into angry Mama Bear mode and kick some ass"

Basically, this role is less about gender and age and more about how the character threats the rest of their peers.

It is hard to imagine resident flirty goofball Lance as fitting in a role like this since, usually, characters that are referred to as the "Team Mom", seem a bit more responsible and mature.

And, admittedly, it is a role that he has to grow into a bit, but even in the first episode he already had some shades of this:

Covering for Pidge and taking the brunt of Iverson's anger, running to aid someone who had fallen from one of the pods (before knowing it was a pretty girl) and protecting Coran from a explosion.

Overall through the show, Lance actually ends up being very caring and protective towards his teammates.

I was unsure on how I wanted to do this analysis since, there is actually quite a lot I want to talk about, so I decided to highlight how Lance acts with every member of the team from this angle.

Keith

The Lion Switch and Keith stepping to pilot Black is what, for a lot of fans, kickstarts Lance's arc of becoming a more mature individual and team player.

But even as early as s1, we do have moments of Lance keeping Keith grounded, like when he stops him from being reckless and hurting the balmera.

In season 3, when Keith is dealing with the loss of Shiro, everyone present decides to turn to Lance to handle it, Lance doesnt even notice what they are doing and instead goes to talk to Keith.

It is interesting that, even Coran and Allura (the adult and the diplomat) also look at him to handle the situation. And it's not a case of just looking at the next person in line, since Pidge is very clearly looking in his direction.

They eventually join to talk to Keith too but not before Lance makes the first approach.

And even when it was clear he really wanted to be chosen, Lance still quickly went to support Black's choice and thus, Keith's new position.

Like Allura tells us later, this is what makes Red, the literal right hand lion to call for Lance.

"You value a strong team"

Because thats what makes Lance really shine. His utter love and care for his team.

Even when he was clearly disappointed about not being chosen he decides to forget his own hurt to instead show to his unsure teammate.

And support he did.

After Keith goes to follow Lotor and makes the team enter a difficult situation while Allura is struggling with Blue, it's Lance the one who manages to make him stop and return.

Keith returns with Lance and shows he is regretful of his actions, one would think that Lance would take this chance to scold his "rival" but instead, he just acknowledges that Keith did mess up but now they are going to fix it. Showing Keith he is not alone in this.

After this incident Lance keeps being very vocally supportive of Keith (when he agrees with his orders).

And will usually follow his orders to a T. For example in "The Journey Within" Keith made a system for the team to sound off every certain period of time, and when Keith stops seeing a point to it, Lance keeps going and the team follows his lead.

It is also interesting to mention, these moments of Lance speaking softly to Keith when he is freaking out.

Another example would be when they get captured and Keith calls the name of his teammates, Lance being the first name he calls and the first to answer.

This ended up being quite long and the 10 pic limit doesnt help either so I will be splitting this in parts.

Keith and Allura's section is, unsurprisingly, quite long but I managed to gather a little evidence to talk about Lance's relationship with all the team.

Hope you guys enjoyed this first part

[Part 1] [Part 2]