#how do caregivers get a break?

[thiccherry]

being a caregiver is not easy wallahi I’ve never felt so hopeless

[coloredcompulsion]

Mithrun being a mostly autonomous disabled person with caretakers is incredibly important to me, building up routine habits in order to "fully function" while also still requiring help is so real tbh

[z0mbride]

everyday my job at a nursing facility pushes me towards smoking

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[lubdubology]

Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k 

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave. 

One month. 

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away. 

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist. 

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help. 

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves. 

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart. 

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features. 

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further. 

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips. 

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it. 

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway. 

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter. 

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.” 

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.  

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence. 

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver. 

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft. 

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin. 

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind. 

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you. 

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus. 

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile. 

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence. 

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into. 

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity. 

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity. 

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry. 

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing. 

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls. 

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper. 

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured. 

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say. 

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before. 

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go. 

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin. 

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense. 

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack. 

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart. 

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole. 

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.” 

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you. 

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is. 

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. 

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase. 

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock. 

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering. 

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm. 

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him. 

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release. 

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well. 

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel. 

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. 

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent. 

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture. 

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony. 

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him. 

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you. 

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you. 

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees. 

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose. 

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat. 

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet. 

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit. 

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist. 

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp. 

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you. 

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close. 

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him. 

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease. 

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his. 

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan. 

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face. 

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life. 

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter. 

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.” 

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

[blackenedsnow]

I have never requested before I hope I'm doing this right. You can feel free to ignore this.

But can I have Billy and stu (separate or together is your choice), Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Micheal Myers (original or Rz are your choice), Jason Voorhees, Norman Bates, and Billy Lenz. You don't have to do all. I don't really care who or how much you do. But them with a reader who takes care of their younger sibling. Kinds like the oldest sibling being a parent of their younger sibling

You can choose the age and gender but I would prefer a male and 4 year old kid but it doesn't matter. I just haven't really seen much of this and would really like more. I love your writing btw. Again you don't really have to do this and I feel like this request is long but just wanted to write it

slashers with a reader who takes care of their younger sibling ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Billy Loomis x Reader, Stu Macher x Reader, Bubba Sawyer x Reader, Thomas Hewitt x Reader, Michael Myers x Reader, Jason Voorhees x Reader, Norman Bates x Reader, Billy Lenz x Reader

NOTE: I’m so glad you love my writing! Your request is perfect, and I really enjoyed putting this together for you. Hope you enjoy!

BILLY LOOMIS

At first, Billy's not sure what to think.

Kids are loud and messy, not really his thing, but he’s intrigued by how seriously you take your role as a caretaker.

He gets protective over both you and your little sibling in his own way.

He doesn’t interact with the child much but will keep an eye on them, especially if things seem off.

Billy admires your strength and responsibility

He didn’t grow up in the best family environment, so seeing you take on that parental role makes him respect you even more.

If you ever need help with your sibling, he’s reluctant but won’t say no.

He’ll watch over your little sibling in his way—just don’t expect him to read bedtime stories.

STU MACHER

Stu doesn't really care for kids, but your little sibling is an exception.

He’s the chaotic big brother type, always joking around, making silly faces, and playing rough

...in a way your sibling enjoys.

He’s surprisingly great at distracting your sibling when you need a break, even if it involves a bit too much sugar or wild games.

Stu admires how you handle your responsibilities, but he’s also the type to encourage you to let loose and have fun with your little sibling.

He'll say something like

"Being a big sibling can be fun too, y'know!"

Sometimes, he’ll get your sibling involved in harmless pranks—nothing too serious, just enough to make you roll your eyes at the bullshit.

BUBBA SAWYER

Bubba has a natural, gentle side that shows around your little sibling.

He’s great with kids because of his own childlike nature and will immediately want to help you out with your sibling.

He’s protective but in a soft, nurturing way.

He’ll help with basic care—making sure your sibling eats, plays safely, and feels comfortable.

Watching you care for your sibling touches something deep in Bubba.

Family is everything to him, and seeing you take on that role makes him feel connected to you on a more emotional level.

Your little sibling will probably love Bubba’s playful, kind-hearted nature, and they’d get along well

Almost like having a second big sibling!

THOMAS HEWITT

Thomas is awkward around your little sibling at first.

He’s not used to kids, and his intimidating presence might scare the child a bit.

Once you show him how to be gentle, though, Thomas is (not surprisingly) good at it.

He’s careful and protective, and though he’s not talkative, his actions speak volumes.

He respects your role as the older sibling and quietly supports you in whatever way he can.

He’ll help carry your sibling, fix things for them, and even craft toys if necessary.

Thomas feels a sense of admiration for how you juggle being a caregiver.

It reminds him of the family dynamic he grew up in, where responsibility was a big part of survival.

MICHAEL MYERS

Michael is eerily silent around your little sibling, but he watches the way you care for them with curiosity.

He doesn’t fully understand the concept of caring for someone, but he’s fascinated by your commitment.

He won’t actively interact with your sibling, and in some strange way, he becomes protective of both you and the child

Like he’s observing a small piece of humanity that he’s long forgotten.

Michael doesn’t interact much with your sibling, but if anyone or anything threatens them, Michael steps in without hesitation.

He’s drawn to your strength as an older sibling.

It doesn’t make him soft, but it earns you a twisted sense of respect in his mind.

JASON VOORHEES

Jason has a soft spot for children due to his own troubled childhood.

When he sees how much you care for your little sibling, it stirs something in him.

He’s fiercely protective, acting as a silent guardian over both you and your sibling.

He doesn’t speak, but his presence is always there, watching to make sure nothing bad happens.

Your little sibling isn’t scared of Jason for long.

Once they see how Jason watches over you, they warm up to him.

Jason might even offer small gestures of kindness, like finding things in the woods for your sibling to play with.

Jason admires your strength and responsibility, seeing you as a protector like himself.

It forms a quiet bond between the three of you.

NORMAN BATES

Norman is gentle and polite around your little sibling, offering to help with anything that might make things easier for you.

He’s fascinated by the idea of family dynamics and your role as both sibling and parental figure.

It reminds him of his relationship with his own mother, in a twisted way.

Norman tries to make things comfortable for your sibling, offering snacks or games to keep them occupied.

He’s surprisingly good at calming your sibling down during tantrums.

However, there’s always a sense of unease around Norman.

His overprotectiveness can feel stifling at times, especially when he becomes too involved in your sibling’s care, as though he sees you as part of his own family.

BILLY LENZ

Billy is unpredictable, and your little sibling might be a bit nervous around him at first.

Billy has strange behavior, but he never intentionally tries to scare your sibling.

He doesn’t understand kids well, but once he realizes how important your sibling is to you, Billy makes an effort to be less creepy around then.

There’s a strange protectiveness that comes over Billy when he sees you caring for your sibling.

It’s almost like he’s trying to impress you by not being chaotic around the child.

He’ll watch your little sibling from a distance, occasionally making weird, quiet noises, but he’ll stay back unless you need help.

If anyone threatens you or your sibling, though, Billy’s unpredictable nature can quickly become dangerous.

[tinylilacbun]

This request is based on season 4

How about the boat scene with Rafe being tied up but him being readers CG, how would that go down with reader and the Pogues /nf

You watch as Sarah prepares a tray with food and water for Rafe, standing beside her and fiddling with your fingers.

She knows what you're thinking and smiles at you, sliding the tray towards you. "Why don't you go and give it to him this time?"

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment but nod your head yes, sending her a small smile before taking the tray in your hands.

You're carefully balancing the tray as you make your way to the tiny bathroom Rafe is tied up in.

First you were mad at JJ for punching him so hard to knock him out but after John b explained to you that the blonde was just overall stressed and overreacting you decided not to press on it any further, knowing that JJ has been through hell the last days.

As you reach the bathroom you slowly push the door open, seeing Rafe sitting on the ground in a manspread leaning against the wall.

He turns his head at the sound of the door creaking, a scowl on his face as he expects to see his sister again but it fades when he realizes it's you.

You crouch down and place the tray on the ground close to him, then sit down crisscross fumbling with the edge of your summer dress that Rafe bought you, not knowing what to say at the moment.

"Y'know, I can't really eat like this." He says lifting his bound hands a bit even though he could eat just fine the last times, he just wants to use the fact you're probably little and are molded into being his good girl to make you untie him. "C'mon, I won't tell them."

You feel torn between your loyalty to your daddy and to your friends, or family to be exact. The pogues have been a part of your life longer than Rafe but him on the other hand is the person you chose to be your caregiver, so you're conflicted.

"I can't..." You mumble, looking down at your lap, not wanting to meet his probably disappointed gaze. "Da others told me not to."

Rafe clenches his jaw, adjusting his position in the cramped space with a groan. "And I'm telling you to untie me, kid."

You shake your head guiltily. "M'sorry, daddy..."

"It's okay, I didn't expect anything else." He scoffs, using his leg to slide the tray closer to him. "You can go. I'm not someone who needs to be fed."

Your chest feels tight at the remark, feeling tears building up in your eyes at his tone, only used to him using the soft one while you're little but you can't really blame him.

Reaching into the small pocket you have on your dress you pull out some chocolate, laying it on his tray beside the cup of water. "I told 'em dat you not gonna be mean bu' they didn' listen..."

Rafe can't help but sigh, now feeling like an asshole for the way he's treating you right now and that he tried to make you feel bad that he's tied up, it's not like he didn't deserve it after all the things he's done.

He's a person who needs to be in control, and being tied up and unable to have the upper hand in this situation is triggering him to no end, that if something should happen he won't be able to do anything.

"Thanks...baby." He gives you a faint smile, glancing at the already open chocolate package. "Someone already had a little taste, huh?"

You giggle quietly but shuffle closer to him, careful to not spill anything that's on the tray, leaning your head against his shoulder you grab the chocolate.

Breaking off a piece you hold it up to him and he gratefully takes the piece into his mouth. "Where did you even get that?"

"Sarah sneaked it into ma pocket." You whisper into his ear and he nods, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Should've figured that." He chuckles, his cheek pressed against the top of your head, feeling content to have you with him right now.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[mother-athena]

🌼 Caregiving Tips 🌼

For my first time caregivers who are completely lost on how to start caring for their little one 💛

🌼 Research! Read as much as you can about age regression whenever you can. The more you can understand how regression works and what it is, the better you can support your kiddo.

🌼 Read Safe for Work fanfiction on regression. It can give you lots of ideas on how to care for and talk to your kiddo when they're regressed. Ask them if they read works on any specific fandom and try looking it up yourself to get an idea of what they like.

🌼 Read blogs on Tumblr and stories on Wattpad for regression advice too. Lots of information is written by regressors and caregivers themselves.

🌼 Ask lots of questions. Your little one's probably already established how their regression works for them so asking what that looks like can be super helpful to you. (Examples: How small do you feel when you regress? Or What do you like to do when your regressed?)

🌼 Your kiddo may feel a little apprehensive at first so patience and lots of reassurance will do wonders. Remind them that you want to be there and don't rush the process of including this new dynamic in your relationship. It will take time.

🌼 Encourage their regression! As often as you can, do things that encourage their headspace. For instance, asking if they want to color with you or watch a cartoon. The more you encourage their little habits, the more comfortable they'll feel around you.

🌼 Don't talk down to them. There's a balance when it comes to talking to regressors. You want to baby them (unless they ask otherwise), but not in a way that's patronizing.

🌼 Be curious. Ask them simple questions and be interested in what their doing/telling you. Most kiddos love to explain things and feel like they're showing you something cool, so it'll make them very happy to know that you're paying attention to them.

🌼 Try not to be harsh. Most feel like harsh discipline and a firm hand is the best way to handle a regressor, but most kiddos listen better to a gentle reminder than a harsh reprimand. So be patient with them, treat them as though their learning everything for the first time.

🌼 Learn their little habits. Lots of times, kiddos don't want to ask to be babied because they can feel embarrassed or like a burden, so they'll give little hints in hopes you'll notice them that way. And it can be something as small as being a little more clingy, to pouting and whining over something that seems minor.

🌼 Become their guardian. Check in with them often, ask if they ate, help them put their seat belt on and remind them to pick up after themselves, little things like that. Some regressors even love to have a certain set of rules laid out for them to follow (or break).

🌼 Avoid ignoring or verbally wounding your regressor. Sometimes emotions can become much more difficult to process when regressed, so a passing comment or action done in frustration can cause deep wounds to reopen, so try to think twice before acting.

🌼 Don't cross boundaries! Just because you're the caregiver, don't abuse your authority and force them to do anything their uncomfortable with.

[op-81-lvr]

BABY SAID ~ OP81 Part 2

Part1

Oscar Piastri x Male!Driver!Single-Parent!Reader

SMAU and Written

A/N: Lemme know if you have any suggestions for scenarios. My inbox is open.

Faceclaim: Various men on pinterest and McKenna Crisp couldn't decide on a face claim I wanted for this fic

Summary: In your 2 years as Oscars teamate you two became fast friends. When you suddenly become the sole care taker to your daughter Oscar is there for you through everything

A/N; This has legit no plot, like at all, just a bunch of sweet instagram posts 🫶🏻

Warnings/Tags: Set in the start of 2025 season (Its barley mentioned), totally based on what is currently known about draver contacts and such. Reader drove in mclaren 2019-2024 and takes lewis' merc seat for 2025. Daughter is a result of a one night stand/ex-girlfriend, he is raising her on his own. Pre-established relationship for the rest of the fic.

March 2025

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by OscarPiastri, mercedesamgf1 and 367k others

Your_Username Showing baby Marcy Australia before we go racing again this weekend!

Oscar took great pleasure in showing us around even if Melbourne is miles away from where he grew up.

See you on Thursday for media day 🫶🏻

OscarPiastri My pleasure showing you around Australia, baby! Lovely spending my winter break you two wonderful people.

User1 I’m sorry do they live together or something now?

User2 @/user1 nobody knows, chances are they do considering how Oscar talks about taking care of Maceline so often.

mercedesamgf1 soaking up those rays ☀️. See you Thursday for media!

User3 (Y/N) is so-so freaking cute with his daughter and i’ve only seen them interact through photos

User4 FR, is so attractive too (sorry Oscar)

User5 Can we talk about (Y/N)’s abs in the second pic 🤤

mercedesamgf1

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by georgerussell63, Your_Username and 682k others

mercedesamgf1 andddd we’re back racing again in Melbourne for the first race of the season.

Good to have Marceline in our garage this season (and (Y/N) too we suppose). Great to see George back in black this season aswell.

Your_Username glad to know admin has their priorities right, I too agree that Marcey’s name should come before mine

User6 God this child has (Y/N) whipped

User7 (Y/N)’s DILF era may just be the death of me bc this is so fucking cute 😇

Oscarpiastri How am I supposed to see Marcey whenever I want now she’s in the enemy garage 😔

Your_Username Honey, we discussed this during the break. You have Toto’s permission to enter my garage.

Oscarpiastri Fine, i’ll enter enemy territory to see the baby. 😒

Your_Username So dramatic 🙄

User8 Toto really said ‘find me the fittest driver line up’ and went for it because 🤤

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Oscarpiastri, mercedesamgf1 and 389k others

Your_Username Ready for Marcey’s first day in the paddock! (feat. Osc). Race day ain’t ready for us 💪🏻

Oscarpiastri Happy to spend my getting ready time with you and Marcey.

User9 Oscar is so down bad for his boyfriend (I’m down bad for his boyfriend too)

User10 I cannot be the only one that thinks this is a bad idea, a baby needs a stable home and a present parent. Not two caregivers that spend half their year travelling

User11 This is so mean :( as far as we’re aware (Y/N) is Marcelines sole legal guardian plus we have no idea what his caregiving arrangements for HIS baby are

❤️ Liked by author

User12 BABY IN DA PADDOCK 🗣️🗣️

~

mercedesamgf1

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Your_Username, Georgerussell63 and 572k others

mercededamgf1 Thats a 1-2 finish for our boys in Melborne, lets keep this up for the rest of the season 💪🏻

User13 (Y/N) casually going missing for 6 months, has a child, comes back and wins a grand prix first race back. What a drive honestly.

User14 Mercedes may actually be in the running for a championship this season?! (Y/N) WDC??

georgerussell63 Amazing race guys 👏👏

Your_Username Woooo, the adrenalines still going, thanks for the amazing race guys

User15 I’m so happy for (Y/N) but i’m a bit worried George is going to get treated like a second driver :(

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 368k others

Your_Username I think I found my new good luck charms. Words cannot describe how lucky I feel when i’m with these two. See you in China 🍀

Thanks @/oscarpiastri and the @/mercedesamgf1 admin for taking these photos

User16 Y’all need another child? I can cook!

User17 (Y/N) really out here gagging the haters with his driving and his parenting skills

oscarpiastri Happy to be your personal baby photographer, it’s a role I take very seriously 🫡

User18 I think (Y/N) and Oscars parenting arc might just finish me off because this is TOO cute

mercedesamgf1 Baby boss gets all my attention 🫶

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 268k others

Your_Username On todays episode of we take Marceline places we went to the aquarium to see the fishes (and then went home for an afternoon nap so she could keep daddy and Oscar up all night)

User19 How (Y/N) manages travelling to different timezones with a baby is absolutely wild to me 🤠

Oscarpiastri Personally still think that we should get a shark

Your_Username How about no? We live in a flat (with a baby) for a start. Lets maybe give it some though first 😀

Oscarpiastri :(

User20 I love how Oscar just goes everywhere with them now to be their personal photographer

User21 I think Oscar has just accepted he’s a father now 😭

Oscarpiastri Tis my duty as a good boyfriend 🫡

User22 I think this is the first time (Y/N) has won a race and not gotten shitfaced afterwards 😭

Oscarpiastri

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Your_Username, Landonorris and 267k others

Oscarpiastri Guys guess what, I legally became this little ones other father today.

I am so so so beyond grateful for the little family (Y/N) and I have made for ourselves and I promise to love this child until the day I die

Your_Username I love you so much baby, You were already such a great father to my daughter, just now its legal ❤️‍🩹

User23 Way to make a girl cry first thing on a Sunday morning 🥲

User24 (L/N)-Piastri family is the cutest fucking thing ever

mercedesamgf1 Does this mean McLaren gets split custody on race weekends?

Your_Username afraid so 😔

Mclaren Baby (L/N) in Papaya?

Your_Username Think Toto would have something to say about that 😐

User25 (Y/N) beefing with the Mclaren admin as if thats not his old team is so fucking funny 💀

Oscarpiastri

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Likes by Your_Username, Landonorris and 279k others

Oscarpiastri Date night with this dumbass, Cheers @/georgerussell63 and @/landonorris for taking care of our kid while we went out.

georgerussell63 Taking my uncle duties seriously 🫡

Landonorris Marcey was a pleasure to take care of

georgerussell63 You sat and played with her while I did everything important 😐

Landonorris What happened to teamwork makes the dream work?

User26 Not (Y/N) full on biting Oscars face 😭

Oscarpiastri Its how he shows affection 🤷🏼

User27 Now the video of (Y/N) biting Oscars shoulder makes sense

User28 Not the spooned out heart, these are my parents yall

~

A/N WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO HARD TO FIND GOOD PHOTOS OF MEN WITH BABIES ON PINTEREST 👹👹👹👹

[caffeinemarche]

Yandere rating || Robins edition

Some rate/scale, types and description of how intense the robins if i were to write them as yanderes. Just for references in the future.

a/n: I don't write Yan!Damian since he is underage.

※ Dick Grayson

Intensity: 4/5

Type: The Caregiver

Description;

→ Dick is a charming man, definitely the type to use emotional brainwash to keep you on his sight. He's not the type to restrain you, as far as you are aware. Although, he does keep an eye on you.

→ Dick is a gentleman, the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. He'll get you gifts, affections, his love language might just be everything when it comes to you. Even if these things would be turned into a weapon to make you see him, a reason to keep you. Again, this is his way to restrain you. By manipulating and his self pity, so you'll feel like you have to be with him.

→ Dick is the type to make his darling the dependant type. He'll make you feel like you need him 24/7, you won't be able to do things by yourself and Dick just has to be there for you. He'll brainwash your head to only think of him, only needing him, crave him and only him.

→ He's the caregiver type, ask what you need then he'll give you anything as long as you don't ask for a breakup. Other than spoiling you gifts, he might be too much when it comes to how clingy he is, naturally he would crave your touch. Dick is also very attentive to your wellbeing, he'll take care of every inch of you. Won't ever let you skip a meal or lose a sleep. Whether you like it or not, it's for the better.

Intensity: 3/5

※Jason Todd

Type: The Protector

Description;

→ Jason is focused on protecting you. So he'll be protective, won't lock you up unless it is needed-- though hardly because of his intensity. He is not the type to make his darling to be dependent on him, he's busy anyway so he'll teach you how to defend yourself and wield a weapon. Jason does give you tough love from time to time. Never will hurt you physically no matter how impulsive he is.

→ Don't lower your alertness when it comes to Jason, he might look calm or seemingly uncaring. He does pay attention to you, just not obvious unlike Dick. Sometimes you'll be suprised on how much Jason knows about you if you ask him.

→ He's more overprotective and impulsive type. Jason will ask you to call or leave a message if you plan to go out, if you don't then he will ask, if you ignore him then it's easy to find you since he does secretly implant your phone with a gps chip. But he will be pissed off if you ignore him. He won't think twice of getting rid anyone who hurt you, breaking bones and blood doesn't sway his devotion to you.

→ Jason isn't that touchy kind of a person due to his trauma, unless you initiate or is feeling like it. Though he does have thing for your smell, he would love to bury his nose on your neck after patrol, wrapping you tight, turning it into cuddles. Jason's love language is mostly on words affirmation and act of service.

Intensity: 5/5

※ Tim Drake

Type: The Saviour

Description;

→ Tim is the type to stalk his darling while being innocent in front. Sending out texts on how much he loves you, sending pictures of you pretty much doing anything. You might freak out from the unwanted messages and pictures sent from your stalker, he would come as the knight to save you. Make you think of him as your saviour. This happens if you are not close with him at first.

→ He's good with tech, he'll secretly implant hidden cameras in your room. Hack your phone so he can see what you're doing there, implant a gps tracker on your belongings to know wherever you are. Tim is scared of losing you, he will do anything to let you not get out of his sight, might just lock you up.

→ Tim would be controlling and obssessed, despite his intensity he would not force you. The idea of you hating him would lose his mind, it's the least thing he would ever want for his darling to feel. He loves you too much that it hurts. He would do anything for you, even sacrificing his life in order for you to see him.

→ He is the type to get rid of potential enemy that might get you away from him. Tim would be delusional at times, believing that you are his soulmate, that you and him are meant to be together. He would be desperate if you were to leave, desperate in a way he would kiss your feet and beg, he'll do anything to prove that he is worthy for you as he worship you.

[7ndipity]

Their S/O Suffers From Migraines

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would look after their S/O who suffers from migraines

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: He would go into full caregiver mode at the first hints of an oncoming migraine, making sure that your space is as dark and peaceful as possible for you, that you have any medications that you need, bringing you tea or something to snack on, since he read that it can sometimes help, etc. He tries to get you set up and comfy as possible and then leaves you be, bc he doesn’t want to potentially bug you later during the worst of it. Afterwards, he’ll make you whatever foods you want and keep you comfy on the couch while you recoup.

Yoongi: I think he would be good at noticing the subtle shifts in your mood or behavior that are usually indicators of an impending migraine, quickly suggesting the two of you take a break from whatever you’re doing and maybe lie down, trying to hopefully catch it early and take precautionary measures to keep your pain to a minimum, keeping you as relaxed and comfortable as possible. Once the worst of it passes, he’ll bring you drinks and snacks and set up a cozy evening in bed for the two of you while you recover.

Hobi: At the first sign of your symptoms, he’s running around(as quietly as possible), closing curtains and shutting off the lights, and getting you whatever you need to feel comfortable. He refuses to let you do anything, wanting to be as helpful as he can be, tho he knows that for a large part of it, all he can do is just sit with you and ride it out. Afterwards, he lets you pick what y’all do, if you feel up to doing anything. Otherwise, he just curls up with you while you rest, playing with your hands or hair while you nap.

Namjoon: He has a tendency to get low-key panicked sometimes when you’re sick or hurt, so he would try and ask you as many questions as possible beforehand about ways he can help so that he’s prepared and ready to do whatever you need him to in order to help you feel better, whether that's bringing you cold/heat packs, or finishing up your work and tasks for you so that you can rest without worrying about them. Whatever he’s doing tho, he’s always super soft spoken and gentle with you, treating you so tenderly that it almost makes you cry.

Jimin: He would be the most dedicated caregiver during these times. It absolutely breaks his heart to see you in sort of pain or discomfort and not be able to fix it, but he does what he can to make you as comfortable as possible, fixing pillows and lights just to your needs, bringing you ice water or tea, double checking with you on everything as he goes. Once you start feeling better, he’ll set up a cozy movie night for the two of you, even tho you have to keep your eyes closed and the sound low bc your senses are sensitive, he just wants to cuddle you and keep you close. 

Taehyung: He's surprisingly good at reading your cues and handling your symptoms, even communicating through gestures and hand signals at times if talking is too painful or difficult. Half the time he just lays with you, not saying anything, just wanting to be near you in case you need anything, lowkey trying to manifest/project healing energy into you. Once you start to feel better, he’ll cuddle you close, making sure that you have whatever you need first, but just wanting you to give you as much love as possible.

Jungkook: He would constantly be researching and finding different things that are supposed to help you with the pain, like those cooling compression headband things and noise canceling headphones for sound sensitivity. He keeps extra heat/cold packs and pain meds at his place in case you need them. He hates seeing you in pain and not being able to do anything, so he tries to compensate with gadgets and preparedness. Afterwards, he’s always extra gentle and affectionate with you, giving you anything you want, from cuddles to takeout to album spoilers(don’t tell the others tho shh)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[thedivinetarot]

Astro observation | Family Edition

This observations are made based on experience. You need to consider the environment you were raised in before considering if this resonates with you or not.

☆ I've realized that the conjunction between fire moons is explosive by the fire nature. Ex; someone have their moon in conjunct to someone else's moon in Aries. The nature of their feelings to each other can be unpredictable or unstable.

☆ Having one of your family members sun or moon specifically in your 4th house make you feel safe and seen with them.

☆ people with mars, Pluto or Saturn in their 4th house can indicate unstable home environment. If mars, then there was violence in the environment. If pluto then the 4th house person need to break generational trauma or he/she is the cycle breaker in the family. If saturn, then the environment was so structured and organized or parents might have high expectations of the child/ 4th house person or the mother or caregiver was so cold and distant emotionally.

☆ Uranus is the 4th house means that the person never settled down for a long time in one house during their childhood. Or they were the scapegoat or the black sheep in the family. I've also witnessed that they also got treated differently than their siblings.

☆ Having your moon or jupiter with good aspects (trine or sextile) with one of your siblings can make the relationship so addictive and sweet. Like this sibling make you feel so healed and at peace (you need to check other aspects).

☆ pluto square mars in the synastry between you and your parents/siblings indicates that the mars person were violent physically with pluto person. I've seen this in people who their caregiver was violent with them physically.

☆ Having your mars square mars of your caregiver can make you both do the same task differently. I've had this with my mother and when I help her she ask me to do the task in different way than I usually do. It can be frustrating honestly each one of us thinks she is right or her way is the right way.

☆ Having your father's sun in your venus or 1st house or ascendant can make you the golden child for him. Usually the sun person spoils the venus person a lot.

☆ Lilith in your siblings chart can tell you what exactly they are jealous of. If your siblings Lilith fell into your 7th house then she or he might be jealous of your social or romantic relationships. If their Lilith fell in your 1st house then they might be jealous of how you look or your beauty or your personality or your confidence.

☆ Venus or moon square pluto with siblings can make them very possessive of you. Like you are this person who they can't live without and they get so mad and angry when you put boundaries. Guys I'm not joking I have this with my younger siblings and both of them literally compete for my affection and the are so possessive over me lol.

☆ Having your moon in trine with a siblings moon can make you understand their feelings easily.

☆ Having a sibling with a lot of opposition aspects in you chart (more than 4 aspects) can mean you either can't live without them or hate the ground they walk on. Also I've seen that this sibling can help you see any problem from a different angle.

☆ Saturn in the 1st house or Saturn conjunct the ascendant can make the person a child who carried too many responsibilities from a very young age. Like taking caring of younger siblings or parenting their own parents. This can be an indicator that the person who have this aspect is the oldest child (take what resonates).

☆ Siblings with the same mars sign can get irritated from the same things, which can be good or bad based on the other aspects.

☆ Your parent or siblings saturn in your 1st house or conjunct your ascendant can make them very critical of you. Like for ex. If someone's saturn in leo and you have a leo ascendant they can be very critical of your personality or confidence or choices. Another ex. If someone's saturn in gemini and you have gemini ascendant then the saturn person will be very critical of your ideas or neighbors or school friends or they can judge your communicating style.

☆ If you have your father's Lilith in your sun sign he can be very jealous or intimidated by you or your achievements which can lead to a lot of misunderstanding or even abuse.

☆ Your mars in your father's 1st house or conjunct his ascendant could indicate that the mars person can provoke the ascendant person easily, Which can lead into violent arguments.

☆ Your caregivers mercury square your moon can make them clueless of how you feel or the way they communicate their feelings make you very irritable.

☆ Saturn in the 10th house in the natal chart can indicate a very strict father figure. Also another thing is your father might have been very critical of you or giving you hateful comments.

☆ If you have your planets in your mother's 5th house; most of your relationship with her is either encouraging you to follow your dreams/ passion OR spent a lot of time with you doing fun stuff (watching movies, going to restaurants, shopping, having coffee together etc..).

☆ I know many people mentioned this before but I will mention it again anyways. Saturn in cancer means a very dry and unhealthy relationship with the mother. The native's mother might have been cold and distant towards the child or the house person. And the effect can be greater if saturn in cancer was in the 1st house and 4th house specifically.

☆ Moon in Aries, Scorpio, Aquarius, Capricorn and gemini have a very unhealthy relationship with their mother. Their mother either were too detached from them or too attached with no personal space. Also these moons can indicates emotionally unstable individuals.

☆ I've seen this alot but idk if you guys have experienced this. Anyways, a Taurus sun sister can always fight with Cancer sun brother. They always be like: I told you not to use my facial cleanser and he be like: but it smells so good🙄.

☆ Mercury in virgo for a sibling can make them very critical of your ideas especially if you have air or water mercury. These natives with virgo mercury can make you feel dumb honestly.

☆ Mercury opposition in synastry with a sibling can make both natives aware of how different their style of communication or seeing any subject differently.

☆ Your siblings Venus or moon in your 1st house can make them very very generous with you. Like they can give you A LOT of stuff or food or even share clothes with you.

☆ Siblings with virgo and taurus sun are very generous also. They share alot of their possessions with you. They can even give you money, food, clothes. (If they love you).

☆ Siblings with Leo placements are very generous too. They are the sugar daddy/mommy in the family.

☆ Siblings with libra placements loooovveee to be spoiled by others. And most of the time they can be the diplomats in their family when two people are fighting.

☆ Aries placements can either be your biggest bully, selfish and uncaring sibling OR the most responsible and caring one there's no in between.

☆ Siblings with Sagittarius placements or Sagittarius dominate are fun to be around. But their anger can be unpredictable.

☆ No one and I said no one can understand you more than the sibling who have their sun in your ascendant. They just get you.

Post date: 17th of sep/2024-Tue

* Feedback is appreciated

How many of them did resonate with you?

Thank you for reading this ❤

[belovedivies]

Author🙏,

May you show some benevolence to us peasants and give us some crumbs about our albino, Alipede✨

terminal ft. alipede

a/n: i adore yandere alipede with every fiber of my being. cw: yandere content, spoiler for johan’s past, mention of bullying, possessive and obsessive behaviors, manipulation, violent tendencies, implied parentification on reader's part, trashy adults made trashy decisions, injury, codependency (oops). wc: 2.67k ao3 link! m.list

This far into the countryside, you stopped caring what day it was. Every sunrise had the same rooster crowing behind the mountains and every nightfall sounded the same container trucker honking on a distant highway just as you were about to doze off. The same off-brand chips in every local dinner, the same celebrity whose life people tended to gossip about.

You wanted to say again, with conviction, that you weren’t miserable. There was no better fate to be bestowed upon. Maybe in another universe where your dad hadn’t left and your mom cared a bit more, you might have had the chance to act your age. Picked up a new hobby or two. Learned a sport. Went to summer camps. Fell in love. 

Then again, maybe the caregiver role you took on during this three-month break was inevitable. The boarding school your mom worked at was so low on staff that you had to practically live there to play the part of a nanny. Keeping tabs on the kids. Making sure they take their study seriously. Breaking off fights in the hallway. On days when the tension was heavy and the lump in your throat had been too uncomfortable to ignore, you only knew how to smile and suck it up. Sending them away with a pat on the back. 

The reminder persisted: they would always have you to count on, and you only had yourself.

Away from the crowds but never in the corner, Alipede was a strange one. Obedient to his own torment yet glimmering under the unfeeling façade was a rare defiance. He never fought back, never complained. You wondered if he had simply given up. If he had just taken everything with a grant of salt like you did once upon a time. Still, you admired Alipede. And nothing ever stopped you to try and do your best by the poor boy: slipped in extra bread, chastised his bullies, cleaned the dirt on his desk. 

You stared at him like a hawk from the other side of the room. Many times a day, he might have stared back.

—

One noon, Alipede tripped over a tree root outside and scraped his knees. It was midday when the sun was at its highest, and specifically a day so boiling hot that the heat had felt like it was raking red sharp nails down your sweat-soaked back; your toes sticking together in a pair of too-large sandals. 

The grass and dirt sizzled their complaints underneath your palms, but they didn’t for Alipede. Against the limewood, he rested his back with a peculiar look of detachment. 

He hadn’t cried. 

But you fussed over his wounds anyway with wet wipes and a few clumsy attempts at band-aids. Halfway through the heinous process with the tissue already stained with dirt and blood, you realized you might be risking an infection. 

“S-Should I get a teacher? A nurse?” You choked out hopelessly before realizing the only semi-responsible teenager around here were you. “W-We should get you inside first!”

Your shoulders continued to shake the more you forced the words out. The boy’s eyes were dead set on your panicked face, but ultimately no answer came.

You gulped and put on your best caring tone. “D-Does it still hurt?”

Alipede blinked. No answer. A thousand years passed. Silence. Your lips wobbled with anxiety in your guts and an apology behind your lips. He had it so much harder than you.

Still, when the albino extended an arm out to reach something behind you… no, on you. Under you? You flinched. A marshmallow-soft sensation settled on your lap and your gaze instinctively followed where his hand went. A rabbit, fur as pale as snow and eyes as red as ruby, had unknowingly hopped out of its coop and was now curling up on your legs.

His rabbit. 

It might as well have made you drown in guilt before, but that feeling was so far away now it barely registered in your mind. Alipede reached out to pet the creature. It nuzzled into his hand and emitted a purring sound, the vibration tingling your skin. You watched the interaction with relief. 

A good distance away from the common building, everything measured up to a perfect amount of tranquility. There were no cheery nursery rhymes on repeat, no cagey and overly dramatic action movies playing from one classroom to another. You smiled and scratched the rabbit’s head with your forefinger, earning a soft snore from the little guy. 

“You left the cage open.”

It took three blinks to realize that Alipede was talking to you. 

He hadn’t tilted his head up yet, still caressing his beloved pet. Beneath the shades of linden, Alipede seemed so soft and kind—looking every bit the pretty boy he was told to be. Maybe it hadn’t been a compliment at all, and you knew how much the albino detested being labeled as just another darling face. But even then, without spring in his steps and a guide cane in his hand, Alipede had always had this air of helplessness floating in and around him, teetering between the fading line of despair and a sense of willpower just vague enough to keep him going.

Your heart was already in your throat when he continued to say something. 

Was it your name? 

The beginning and the ending seemed to match, but there was no guarantee what had slipped out in between. The sun hid behind a heap of cotton candy clouds, yet your palm remained clammy, uncomfortably hot. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had too wronged the poor boy. That you had fed and played and cared for what was his when he wasn’t around. 

A tap on your shoulder. This time, you gathered the courage to finally meet his eyes as the albino leaned in and muttered again.

So it really was your name.

And your forehead was touching his. So was your nose. Alipede was so close you two were basically breathing the same air, the apples of your cheeks up against one another. And you hadn’t minded the unusually intimate distance, too busy taking in the red in his irises and the flutter of his pale lashes. Only when the rabbit squirmed on your lap again, trying to make some room did you realize that you still owed him an apology. You pulled back and ducked your head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

For touching the rabbit without his permission. For the wounds on his knees. For complaining too much when he hadn’t. 

Your gaze was trained on your lap, waiting. Thomas once whined to you about the scratches on his hand, calling the albino a freak because he had overreacted. You wondered if Alipede would bite you too. His pet did the first time you approached it, leaving a red welt on your arm and a scar on your pinkie. The thought of an angry boy sinking his teeth deep into your skin sounded so silly that it almost made you laugh. Maybe you wouldn’t even blame him then.

He hadn’t said anything either, but when the albino unexpectedly took your hands in his and laced your fingers together, you hadn’t flinched. Alipede was smiling at you. 

“It’s fine,” then came a gentle squeeze. There in those cemeteries of red, you spotted a glint of delight, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Thanks...”

Alipede raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” You mumbled. “I thought you would be mad at me for…”

A lock of white hair fell over his shoulder as Alipede tilted his head. He looked so cute; you wanted to squish his cheeks together.

“If it’s you, I won’t.” 

The comment might have made you feel better if it wasn’t for the dry delivery. Even then, you trusted the boy enough to mellow out with a squeeze back. Did you forget something? Your gaze darted back to his scraped knees and felt your heart jump; you still had to take him inside for a checkup.

“You’re still hurting! W-We should head back in—“ The second you had tried to move away, he gripped and pulled you back in with a strength you didn’t know was possible. Shouldn’t be possible. Eyes wide as full moons, you could only stare as Alipede cupped your cheeks. 

“I’m fine.” 

“But-“

“I’m not hurting.” 

The albino lowered his voice, pleading.

“Can we stay here a little longer, please?”

You nod wordlessly. 

It was only Alipede, after all.

You trusted him just as much as he did you. He didn’t need to talk and beg and cry his way into your free time; you gave it to him willingly anyway.

The albino’s thumbs ghosted over your cheekbones. You wondered if he had felt your silent agreement at all, if he could hear the heart beating inside your chest, the blood flowing in your veins, and the air pumping into your lungs. He might have heard a lot of things you couldn’t.

The rabbit squirmed once more, nuzzling its fluffy head against your thigh. Alipede’s hands finally left your face to continue petting his comfort animal, but his eyes didn’t.

“He likes you,” Alipede said with conviction, and a smile smudged around the corners of his lips like a gallery of oil paintings forgotten in the rain. 

“Oh.” You gaped at him; it always got so unbearably awkward the first time. “Um… what’s his name by the way?”

The boy must have had one ready before you even asked, sonnets of adoration bubbling in his throat and vibrant stars dancing behind his eyelids. And you had waited too—all bated breath, all whispering humbleness. Uncertainty swirled your guts like a desert oasis.

But when Alipede opened his mouth to speak, it was your name that had slipped out. 

And again. And again. And again. 

He said yours the same way people would when they cheered for sport: loud, excited, hopeful. You blinked. You heard him the first time, you just didn’t know what he meant by any of it. A “Huh?”, small and confused, left your lips. Then the cords clicked and the dots connected themselves. 

“Oh, oh.” You dropped your face into your hands with a choked groan; the heat on your cheeks rivaling the scorching sun. Through the crack of your fingertips, Alipede’s smile remained constant.

He had named his rabbit after you.

—

The hallway got dustier and narrower the further you went down. 

Once lunchtime rolled around, it was a maze of spilled drinks and childish destruction—foods and toys and everything imaginable going back and forth in the air until all of them hit the floor in a mass of ruination. One noon, you sighed and tugged on Alipede’s arm, leading him into the teacher’s lounge.

The place was empty. Well, no teacher here had ever bothered to stick with the kids until their second meal of the day, anyway. Once an incoherent excuse was out, they slipped into their cars and drove off into the distance. You never saw them again. 

Your mom was around for breakfast sometimes, downing her portion wearily. She reeked of cheap booze. Of nightclubs and bad decisions. Once in third grade, you flushed her Seropin down the toilet by accident, thinking they were expired candy. Even then, your mom had come home wordlessly the next day with bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, and you hadn’t gone near her medical cabinet since.

Alipede leaned against the wall, a hand clasped over his nose obediently as you cleared out cigar stubs and crushed beer cans on the floor. Turning on the AC and opening a few windows seemed to help with the stuffy air inside. You guided the albino to sit at the table in the middle of the room, on chairs that creaked and felt too adult-like with foam for cushions. There was no one else around, but Alipede clung to your waist with a pout and pulled your seats closer than they already were. You giggled; you loved his clinginess, just as much as he loved you.

“We have—” Still joyful, you paused for effect and peered down the two trays on the table. “—Japanese food today! Curry over rice and miso soup. Have you heard of them before, Ali?” 

Alipede, nose buried in your hair and mind probably somewhere up in the cloud, only blinked. His grip tightened around your waist when he asked, “No. What are they like?” 

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips, “the curry has a thick and smooth texture that feels like velvet against your tongue. It also contains a blend of spices like cumin and coriander. Remember that, Ali? You said you couldn’t stand the pungent smell!” Your shoulders shook slightly as you laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet and pretty mildly spiced. We have carrots and potatoes too! You said you loved them—“

On and on, you went about the dishes with gusto. He kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You used to wonder what Alipede’s world was like. A pitch black. A collision of sound waves and echoes. An overdose of nothingness. Long ago, you read a story about a father who sacrificed his son for the prosperity of their land. The boy grew up beautifully still, slaying demons and taking back the body parts that had been rightfully his since birth. A touching tale about defying fate and pushing forward in the face of adversity. 

Still, Hyakkimaru was a fictional character, and Alipede was not. 

You couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he had to go through every day, struggling to just be seen as a normal person, one with a life just as valuable as others. 

But he hadn’t complained.

He hadn’t cried to you about the bullying either. Months ago before you came, the albino huddled inside a coop behind the school, holding onto his pet bolt-tight. He didn’t need to cry; his fading bruises and healing wounds already did the job for him.

Alipede’s lips curled up against the shell of your ear, dragging you further into the wool of a couch nearby. “You’re right, it’s just mildly spiced,” he whispered, low and content like a purring cat, between the messy tangles of your limbs, “could use a bit more sweetness, though.”

—

“I wanna get out of here,” you sighed almost dreamily by a pond in the garden, legs tucked under your knees in your favorite sundress, “maybe visit Japan one day. Or Korean. Anywhere is nice.”

You raised a hand to point at something. Maybe a bird passing by. Maybe a red hot orb flowing on the horizon, half-submerged by the Earth. What it was, it was promptly abandoned the moment Alipede grabbed onto your wrist and twined your fingers together.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” Alipede’s pupils dilated in the setting sun, the white of his hair and your dress bleeding into one oversaturated canvas. “You told me you wouldn’t.” 

“Of course not!” The answer came just as quickly, hurt and amusement wrapped up in the form of a pout written across your face. Even then, he hadn’t returned an apology. You had felt silly for even bothering to wait for one, but that was okay.

It was only Alipede, after all.

Instead, you squeezed his hand back, lacing your pinkie together in the naive gesture of a promise. 

“I’ll be your eyes, Ali. For as long as I live.”

You swore through mirthful smiles and hushed voices. Here, tucked away from the common building and terrible adults, the world narrowed down to just you and him. And Alipede—your sweet, adorable, and lovely Alipede—whose head was on your lap and whose heart was forever yours, only stared back unblinkingly. 

Then he giggled, pulling you forward. Against all senses, you held on, and the two of you toppled into the grass. Nighttime prickled at your skin like a bug as you laughed along with him, and the summer dragged on, neverending.

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SEISHIRO NAGI. touch me, soothe me.

about. if there’s one thing nagi’s going to put effort into — it’s making his baby feel better when the world gets you down. or nagi + spank therapy because i said so. i need him.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. smut, nsfw, fingering (f!receiving), spanking, spank therapy, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, use of colour system, cockwarming fem!reader, pro player + soft dom!nagi

when you have a lot on your mind, the first thing you do is turn to your boyfriend, nagi.

he acts as a sort of centre point for your comfort, whenever the world gets too much and there’s too much weight on your shoulders. nagi willingly accepts his role of caregiver, stress reliever, anything his angel needs him to be. he’ll do whatever it takes to see you smile and laugh again even if it means seishiro has to put in a little extra effort. 

besides, it helps that you get a little needier when you’re stressed out.

“s-sei!” there’s something so satisfying about the way you curl into him, trying to make yourself smaller against nagi whenever he’s close by. a quiet ‘fuck’ drifts from between his parted lips, watching the meat of your ass ripple from the impact of his his hand against it. your core loosens a tad and your lashes make soft contact with his bare shoulder when you blink back the hot liquid that slips from your pretty eyes. 

nagi knows that when your jaw goes slack and your drool starts seeping past the boundaries of his clothes — that he’s making you feel good, making the day hurt less. carefully, he runs a hand over the tender zone to pacify any pain you might be experiencing from being smacked about like that. 

“shhh, pretty thing. you’ve had such a long day. lemme take care of you, kay?” nagi coos to you soothingly as he smooths his hand over the area where heat blooms on your ass cheek. “d’ya want the next one to be harder or softer?” he feels your lips tremble against his bare neck, and the tears that drip onto his shoulders and if he didn’t know any better — he might think you were crying out in pain rather than relief. 

your shaky voice quickly soothes the player’s concern while you nuzzle into him further. “harder, please.” 

nagi let’s out a noncommittal hum, the sound comfortingly reverberating through your frame as you cling onto his larger one. “such a good girl, for using your manners with me.” 

he waits a few more seconds, letting you prepare for impact, before his heavy hand comes down against the opposite cheek. he revels in the way that you jolt with your nails digging into his milky skin so hard that they might break flesh. but as quickly as you tense up, you sag in relief — letting all of your worries flood out of you as the pain from being spanked subside.

the strangled moan that escapes you tells nagi that he’s doing a good job at helping ease your tension. the effort he’s putting in, evident in the way his palms tingle from spanking you so hard. there was some weight to that one.

“check in with me, angel. how are we doing?” 

you’re still a quivering mess when you answer your boyfriend, swallowing thick and choking back your tears. the stress that you had been experiencing now burns and brews into something hotter, a slick gathering between your thighs. “green,” you hiccup, tauntingly dragging your hips back and forth against the white haired striker’s lap. “‘m okay to keep going.” 

“oh, pretty thing.” seishiro cocks his head to the side, brushing a thumb under your eye before another tear drops. “y’gonna kill me. s’not fair…so pretty like this,” that very same thumb drops to the swell of your lips, barely pushing past them to enter your hot mouth. “tell me how you want it, then i’ll make you cum.” 

obediently, you suck on the digit that your boyfriend offers you — your frenzied emotions instantly calming down. “wan’ a few more in a row… keep going. please.” you slur around him as nagi slowly fucks your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to watch you writhe.

as per your request, the player continues to bring a a rapid and heavy hand down against your pert ass — groaning as the flesh jiggles beneath his touch. it all rushes to his head, the sound of skin meeting skin, your hushed, dreamy sobs and sighs, the way you claw and cling to him. he’s dizzy with lust all for you but somehow manages to power through long enough to make an effort for you, make you feel better before he tends to himself. 

you’re all squirmy with sore cheeks by the time nagi is done, but you’re happily snivelling into his neck as he ruts up into you — hard cock pressed against your soft thighs. “sei,” you plead gently, rocking back against his erection and whimper when it’s thickness sinks between your wet, panty-clad folds perfectly. “think i need a little more help… with the stress relief…” 

“i think so too, angel,” seishiro replies with a rasp, already in the midst of rolling you onto your back and into prime position to ruin you. somehow, two sets of hands fumble between your bodies to push and pull clothes aside — allowing the genius player’s cock to slide right into your soaked and fluttering hole. both of you sigh out in relaxation, your moans syncing up into the most airy-fairy harmony. “might need to fuck it out of you, fuck you s’good pretty thing. s-shit… you’re so warm ‘n tight around me… gonna make a mess…”

with newfound motivation, nagi draws his hips back and bucks into your tight heat, using one fluid motion to fill you up with his drippy cock. it’s the cry you let out and your fingers gripping the sweaty silver roots of his hair that drive the man forward, forcing more of his throbbing dick into your sensitive little cunt while his free hand reaches down to toy with your clit. 

he’s going to fuck you until you’re numb, dumb and crying because of him — not because of work. pound you until your pussy froths, because seishiro  really would do anything for you to feel better and less stressed — even if it meant fucking you starry-eyed and delirious. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[satoruhour]

omg I’d love to hear more about baby fever + gojo 🥹 just watching him match a babies babbles like he can actually understand them is killing me!!

a/n: omg stop anon this is so CUTE?? and ik i posted like three things today but posts will be slower this week since i still have work to do technically even if i have a school break ! / one sex joke lol

gojo always had a knack for caregiving — whether it was defending yuta against the higher-ups and advocating for yuji’s life (even if it had to be delayed) and making sure that one kid had gotten home safely after getting trapped in an abandoned home. but you realised you’ve never really seen your boyfriend around babies. it wasn’t a good idea in the first place, to mix babies and sorcerers — part of why nanami had waited so long before starting a family with his partner, or how utahime turned in her resignation for good after getting pregnant.

but now that you’re past terrible things in the world like sukuna and kenjaku and you both have properly buried your best friend’s body, you’re looking ahead to better things. you’re not too keen on kids, but you do sometimes spiral into what your kid with satoru would look like, probably taking the bulk of his features while some of yours are fighting to take first place. that sentiment is changed more and more when you see how gojo interacts with kids.

it’s when nanami first invites everyone to their (long overdue) baby shower, only wanting to introduce his partner and kid only a year after they’ve been safe. nanami is the happiest he’s ever been but so is gojo, dancing so foolishly in front of the kid to get her to like him that all she does is scrunch her face and hide back in her mother’s neck (“yeah, that’s nanami’s kid alright.”). soon, she’s let go to interact with the students, playing around with megumi’s dogs, running around the house from yuji and inumaki, doing silly battle poses with the girls. her laughter is like beauty to all the grown-ups in the room, something meant to be protected and cherished.

gojo tries to win her back, sitting on the floor so his height wouldn’t be too imposing and she almost runs into him. his infinity stops her and her head cocks to the side in confusion — she continues to run into gojo’s shield again and again, giggles at being constantly pushed back with a silly sound gojo makes with his mouth; it convinces her enough that she’s running into a bubble of some jelly. 

it’s some time later where you’re mingling with nanami’s partner, talking to shoko and utahime while your boyfriend chats with nanami (weirdly normal, you note) about everything. but you’re broken out of conversation when you hear gojo quietly squeal to his junior who only sighs. it’s all a facade; you know he’s actually glad his daughter succumbs to gojo’s charms soon enough, letting him carry the small toddler who’s already oh so tired from the day. she melts into satoru’s arms, mumbling something incoherent that he replies just as incoherently and bounces.

satoru strokes her hair, speaking in a hushed tone now, something that rarely happens in your home and it convinces nanami just a little to make him her godfather. he’s still considering it.

the next time it happens is when he meets utahime’s baby boy for the first time, coming over to provide some gifts and to just see your old friends. it’s a little hilarious how the first two people to have children are the people who are not particularly fond of gojo but both nanami and utahime are surprisingly tame when it comes to the strongest handling their kid. she’s giving him her baby carefully with a clear threat behind her eyes but he knows not to fuck anything up. the baby is clueless enough to not know who he was even being handed to, babbling mindlessly while drool leaves his mouth.

“babba boo-boo,” it’s gibberish, but satoru matches it perfectly, making stupid sounds back at the baby that you can’t help but grin. “wahbaba boo!” gojo continues to coo and mumble insults with a pointed finger to hime, “your mom is too uptight, can you tell her to calm down a little?” which gets a little hey! from the retired sorcerer and the baby attempts to copy his pointing. “mambama!” utahime’s and her partner’s soft gasp is all you need to know that they haven’t heard their baby call any of them, yet.

the baby continues his babbles and blows a raspberry, face lighting up at the bubbles he manages to make with saliva and gojo just has to laugh at how easily entertained children are. you’re stood there, heart melting with the gentleness in which he treats kids, because once the little one is handed back to utahime and you’re saying your goodbyes, you can’t even look at your lover without feeling lightheaded.

“you’re good with kids, y’know.” you’re saying as you remove your coat while satoru toes off his shoes in your home, your shared space. it feels unreal.

gojo pfts, “of course, baby!” he does a cute pose with thumb pointing toward him, “i’m just that good at everything.”

you laugh, “’course you are…” pulling him down, you have to kiss him or else you’d be overflowing with all the love you have for him and it’ll spill everywhere. gojo eases you into the kiss, humming and sighing in contentment.

“i’m just wondering…” you mumble, a little nervous. you’ve never thought of kids that much even but you think it might be due time even if you didn’t have a ring on your finger. “if you ever thought of having a kid with me?”

satoru’s face softens and you can hear his smile, “of course i do, princess. every time.” his voice is soft when he says it and the way it flips your heart makes you dizzy. “but only when you’re ready. and only when i’ve put a big fat rock on your fourth, although if you’re interested in a shotgun…”

you have to shoot him the finger before you’re nodding to yourself just to remind that everything depends on you. even if it takes 5, 10 years, or even if you didn’t want any children at all, gojo is enamoured with you too much to let it be a dealbreaker.

“i want it… soon.” gojo laughs softly at that, taking you into his arms right at your doorstep and kisses you deeply once again. you brace yourself against his toned chest, clutching at his coat with tippy toes. in classic gojo satoru fashion, he has to pull away to make a dirty joke.

“i’m surprised that you aren’t knocked up already with how much i c—”

“gojo satoru. if you finish that sentence—!”

“—um in you…”

you pull a face, resorting to smacking him on the arm and he surrenders with loud laughter and an apology filled with pecks and kisses. standing at the doorway, you’d never think it would happen so soon.

two months later, satoru is getting down on one knee and asking you to marry him.

[lowkeyerror]

Chasing Extinction

Wednesday Addams x Vampire! Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Ch. Notes: Multiple parts, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, aged-up characters, potential ooc Wednesday, blood, lmk if I missed anything

Summary: As a child, loss showed you how disappointing humanity could be. As a teen you learned the importance of relationships. As an adult you learn how uncomforting success can feel. It's not until reconnecting with Wednesday in order to try save the Vampire race that you finally feel real purpose, direction, and romance. (BASED ON THIS)

An: ... Chat I couldn’t wait I'm sorry it needed be let free so here is part one. There will be another part at a date in the near future. Hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Also at the bottom of fic is the symbol mentioned if you want a visual aid.

Series Masterlist

At heart you were a skeptic. The world was bleak, and you refused to place your hope into it. That ideology alone saved you from emotional weaknesses time and time again. You didn’t believe in people, as you learned at an early age, the only thing people were proficient at was causing disappointment.

Your mother and father loved you in their own ways. You remember tender touches from your mother, a caregiver at heart. She was always so careful with you, fearful that you might break.

Your father kept a lot of his emotions to himself. You rarely had a grasp on the kind of individual he was, but you knew his embrace was filled with warmth. You’d like to think all of the things he didn’t know how to say, he conveyed with a hug.

You loved your parents, but humanity did not. They were afraid of what they could not understand. All they saw was a group of monsters: Vampires that were a threat to them and their families. Their motivations didn’t matter to you. They had orphaned you without any hesitation. In that moment you learned disappointment.

After the loss of your parents, you were placed with your aunt. Your mother’s younger sister, perhaps too young to raise a child. She tried her best with you, but it was hard. Neither of you were quite certain of the roles to play in each other’s lives. She was a skeptic too, a woman who trusted no one, but herself. All she could do was instill in you her way of thinking.

She taught you about the dangers of attachment. Life had a way of being of cruel, according to her. She taught you how to protect yourself, not only with your hands, but with your brain. Without her there was a chance that you wouldn’t have survived the way you had.

It was easy to be skeptical when you were alone. When there weren’t many people like yourself around it was easy to not trust anyone. It was harder at Nevermore.

The school was filled with outcasts. People who could relate to being mistreated by society. On a more intimate scale, there were other Vampires at the school.

It was the first time you realized just how many of you there were. It was also the first time you realized how lonely you were.

You weren’t a social person by any means. The other Vampires learned that quickly. The only person who didn’t seem to mind was your roommate, Yoko. While others pushed to discover the workings of your personality, Yoko didn’t.

Her indifference eventually piqued your interest after months of harassment from the others. You let yourself question her one night in your dorm.

“Do you not care to know anything about me?”

She put her phone down before answering you, “Are you suddenly in the mood to share?”

“You’re the only person here that hasn’t tried to pry into the details of my personal affairs,” you deflect slightly.

“Here, it’s easy for some people to forget how cruel the outside world can be to us. They forget that our lives are at risk in most places. I know what it can be like out there and I understand what that can mean. So, I get why you're not so eager to share, it’s probably not anything you want to remember.”

Her words resonate deeply with you. It was like they were pulling something inside of you that made you want to tell her. It was the first time you felt that way, so you listened, “When I was a child, my parents were killed by the normies. I learned then that people couldn’t be trusted. Putting trust in others only leads to disappointment. After my parents died, my aunt became my legal guardian. She reinforced my beliefs and in part, is the reason why I’m not too keen on socializing.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

There was a pause. Something in her tone told you she had more to say. You didn’t know if it would be beneficial to continue the conversation, but you had already made it this far.

“You wish to say something else?”

She didn’t answer immediately, “Would your parents want you to experience a life without any companions? Living with no one to trust and no one to rely on sounds miserable. Especially when you consider how long we live. You may not understand it now, but finding the right people is usually worth the disappointments it takes to get them.”

You ponder on her words. The memories you had of your parents played in the back of your mind.

“I suppose that makes sense,” you spoke softly.

“Not everyone can be your friend, but that doesn’t make them all your enemy.”

You nod in understanding, “I’d like to call you a friend, Yoko.”

For a long while Yoko Tanaka was your only friend. She was popular amongst your peers, meaning being around her outside of the dorm meant being around her friends. She gently pushed you to socialize a bit more. While you weren’t exactly an open book some of Yoko’s friends became your friends.

Enid was a bit much initially. You didn’t judge her energy or the bright colors. She was a very vibrant person, which you had to get used to. Underneath all of that excitement, Enid was one of the most caring people you had ever met. It seemed to be second nature for her to care about the people around her. She was fiercely protective of her friends and that included you. You trusted her the same way you trusted Yoko.

“I wish you'd let me paint your nails just once, Vampy.”

You and Yoko were situated in Enid’s room for a sleepover. The blonde was currently painting your roommate’s nails. She had been trying to persuade you for a while. You always declined her offers.

“I don't like it when you call me that. If you agree to retire that name, I will let you paint my nails,” you sighed internally, preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

Enid let out a squeal of excitement, quickly abandoning Yoko to get closer to you. Her hand reached for yours without hesitation. She began analyzing your nails, her file ready in the other hand.

“What’s your favorite color Vam- Y/n?”

The immediate slip up made you laugh a bit, “Red, dark red like-”

“A blood bag, very cliché Y/n,” Yoko interjected.

Enid glared at the other Vampire, “Yoko don't ruin this moment. This is the first personal thing Y/n had shared with me.”

“It’s just a color,” Yoko argued back.

Enid shook her head dramatically, “No, it’s Y/n’s favorite color.”

Yoko looked at you with her eyebrow raised, “Would you tell our pup another piece of information so she could let this color thing go?”

You think for a moment, trying to find something about yourself that you think Enid would be satisfied with.

“My birthday is in February.”

“O-M-G, are you an Aquarius or a Pisces? I totally get Aquarius vibes from you. Things are starting to make a whole lot of sense. I wonder if our signs are compatible for friendship. Do you have Costar? You should download Costar.”

She rambled on about horoscopes until she finished your nails. After that she took your phone and downloaded Costar, making sure to send herself a friend request.

The only other person you made a connection with at Nevermore was Wednesday Addams. In some ways she reminded you of yourself. She was very intelligent and very private. Wednesday wasn’t someone who loved being the center of attention, she just often found herself at it. Her pride would not allow her to run from it.

It wasn't something that was outwardly apparent, but Wednesday was an adventurer. She craved a challenge, which she would never find in a schoolbook. Wednesday needed a case to crack.

“Have you ever thought of getting revenge on the people who murdered your parents?”

“Wednesday! You can’t just ask her-”

You cut Enid off, “Sometimes, but it wasn’t just one person. It was an angry mob, so I’d have to find them all first.”

“Finding them sounds like child’s play. I could probably do it in an afternoon,” Wednesday offered up her services.

You shook your head, “I wouldn't feel vindicated. Even if I killed them all, it wouldn't be enough. They robbed me of something truly priceless.”

You kept your eyes focused on the window. Watching students engage with each other on campus. The question created a thick emptiness in your mind.

You didn’t see the way Enid glared at her roommate. Nor did you see the slight displeasure on Wednesday’s face as realized her question was potentially insensitive.

Enid was careful to wrap her arms around you from behind. You tore your gaze from the window to turn into her arms. Enid had deciphered some time into your friendship that you preferred physical contact when it came to being comforted.

“My question was inappropriate, forgive me,” Wednesday spoke flatly.

Enid let go of you, getting ready to unleash a hurricane of words onto the girl in black.

“I think it’s quite thoughtful of you actually.”

“Huh, how?” Enid questions.

You look into Wednesday’s dark eyes, “That was Wednesday’s way of offering to help me get revenge on the people who wronged me most in life. It was a friendly gesture.”

Wednesday looked away from your intense gaze.

“Oh, I get it now. That’s sweet of you Wends, we’ll practice on the delivery next time,” Enid’s mood did a 180.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, “There is nothing sweet about me. I was just trying to put my expertise to use. I beat Crackstone and the stalker, I’ve been terribly bored lately.”

Wednesday and Enid went back and forth for a while. You simply watched the converse once again getting lost in thought. Your eyes scanned the raven-haired girl. Your mind wandered to places it had never explored before.

Yoko had explained crushes to you before. It was in simple terms; terms that felt too simple for the strength of the feeling. It was an intense yearning that you fought against at every opportunity. Having a crush on Wednesday sounded like something trivial, a waste of time.

You knew how the girl felt about romance. She wasn’t interested in it; in fact, the thought repulsed her. Yet as you learned from Yoko, you don’t get to choose. The feelings act on their own with disregard for social etiquette.

You valued your friendship with Wednesday and did not wish to ruin it with your romantic feelings. So, you promised yourself to never reveal them.

“What are your plans after graduation, Y/n?”

The question from Enid abruptly removed you from your own thoughts, “I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Does nothing interest you?” Wednesday let some genuine curiosity slip through.

You shrugged, “What is the monetization of an interest, if not the death of a hobby? There are many things I enjoy, but finding my life’s work has proven to be quite difficult.”

Enid was excited to chime in with her opinion, “I think you could be a writer, like Wednesday. You’re into classical music too, maybe a composer?”

“You have been more than competent as a detective during our investigations,” Wednesday gave you a rare compliment.

“I enjoy all those things, but how do I know if they’re worth pursuing? What if I’m not successful at any of them?”

“I loathe this expression, but perhaps it will be useful to you. You must ‘follow your dreams'. If you are passionate about something, you can use that to push yourself to successful heights. Success is not unilateral; it looks different for everyone. Though in the eyes of the law my investigations are fraudulent, I count them as successes because I know I solved those cases. I simply do not care what they have to say, because I know the truth.”

You reflected on her words before a sly smile took over your features, “If I got a bestseller before you would you take it personally?”

“Competition fosters creativity.”

-Many Years Later-

You wrote under a pseudonym. At first it was to hide your shame if you became a failure. As you began to garner an audience you kept it to sustain your private life. Much to your surprise you actually did make the bestseller list. In fact, you made it multiple times. Wednesday had still gotten there first. Her semi-autobiographical tales of Viper De La Muerte were beloved by many.

It turns out she was right when she said that competition fosters creativity. It seemed as if the two of you were always battling for that number one spot on the list.

Lately you have found yourself in a creative slump. There are too many distractions around, you can’t put pen to paper like you need to.

“I think I want to go out of town.”

You sit across from your aunt, while the two of you eat dinner.

“Where?”

You sigh, “I’m thinking about renting a cabin for a few months. I need to focus on my writing, and I can't do that here.”

“Y/n our numbers are dwindling, and you want to go live alone in the forest? What if something happens to you?”

You knew that this was an inevitable conversation, “Amdis I’ve already booked the cabin. It’s not too far from Yoko, so if anything goes wrong, she’ll be able to help me.”

The woman’s eyes flare red, “And what of the murders?”

“Conspiracy often plagues-”

She cuts you off, “You know better than anyone else that there is no conspiracy when it comes to the hate in the heart of humanity. Did you forget what happened to your parents?”

Her comment causes you to slam your fist down and rise from your seat, “Don’t you dare make such claims. I carry their loss with me in every step I walk, I see them when I look into the mirror, I hear them when I speak. How can I forget them, when I carry a scar, which lets me know that I should’ve lost my life with them?”

“Y/n I-"

“Just as no one came to save my parents. It’s impossible for me to save our people. I can’t live my life in fear of death because that’s not what they would’ve wanted!”

Your eyes burn into the woman. It was as if there was lightening storming behind your red irises.

Amdis relents, “I’m not saying that I expect you to save everyone kid. I just want you to be mindful of what is happening to people like us. The hunters are getting out of control, and the only safety we have right now is in numbers. I can’t stand to lose any more family.”

You sit back down. The gravity of your aunts words weighs heavily on you. You take a moment to see her not as your aunt, but as a person. The woman who lost her older sister, who could’ve denied you entry into her life. She was 18 and suddenly tasked with taking care of a 9-year-old. She had done everything for you, sacrificed so much to be the person you needed her to be.

“I know, I’m sorry for being inconsiderate. Your worry means everything to me. It’s just- this is something that I must do. You taught me how to protect myself, now I must ask you to trust that I've retained that knowledge.”

“You’ll check in with me every few days. If you miss a single day, I’m coming out there,” her tone stays stern, but you begin to smile.

“Understood.”

Yoko picked you up from the airport and offered to take you up to the cabin.

“How’ve you been bestseller?”

You sigh, “Uninspired.”

Yoko laughs, “I was hoping to hear about something outside of your career.”

You search for something to share, “My life is only divided into two categories my career and people I care about. Enid’s been sending me a lot of recipes lately; she said she wants to make me some blood brownies.”

“The brownies are fucking delicious; you should definitely take her up on that.”

You nod starkly, “Maybe I’ll host a little get together once I’m settled in and have gotten enough work done.”

The other Vampire nods, “You could invite me, and I'll of course bring Divina, Enid will bring the brownies, and last but not least Wednesday.”

“She’s probably busy being a modern day, more fashionable version of Sherlock Holmes. If she’s not doing that then she’s for sure drafting a book about it.”

Yoko shakes her head in disbelief, “And you’ve still got that teenage crush on her.”

“I do not.”

Yoko plays along, “Fine, then how’s your dating life?”

You blink a few times, “I have yet to find a substantial partner that piques my interest or matches my drive."

“Because you aren’t looking for anyone that doesn’t have the name Wednesday Addams.”

You roll your eyes, “Give it a rest Yoko. We both know that Wednesday doesn’t wish for romance.”

Yoko quirks an eyebrow, “Is that so? I’ve heard otherwise from Enid.”

“What do you mean?” The words spill quickly from your mouth. You try to regain some of your nonchalance, but Yoko sees right through you.

“I mean Enid has told me that Wednesday has had many romantic encounters. Passionate love affairs, burning romances, quick flings, you name it she’s experienced it."

You feel your jaw clench at the information, “Good for her.”

“Don’t be upset little bat. I also know that they never last. Enid tells me that none of them really understand Wednesday. They think they can change her, but-”

“Wednesday doesn’t change for anybody.”

Yoko agrees, “Precisely. Wednesday’s affections are often lackluster to many people. Some want grand gestures and proclamations, but that just isn't her vibe you know?”

“I know.”

The trail to the cabin isn’t too far into the woods. Yoko was able to park right in front of it. It was a cozier looking space than you had originally thought. The cabin was big but packed with well-loved furniture and knick-knacks. The most important accommodations for you were the TV, and internet.

Yoko helped you bring in your things and unpack.

“Ok, I’m going to visit every Friday.”

“You don’t have to check up on me,” you tell her.

She pulls you in for a hug, “I know, but it’s nice to have you around. It would be weird to know you’re less than an hour away and not come to visit.”

“You’re worried,” you mumble into her shoulder.

Her hand caresses the back of your head, “A lot of us have been going missing lately. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You sound like Amdis."

Yoko’s voice is soft, “Your aunt has every right to be worried. Call her, let her know you made it. I’ll text you when I get home.”

With one more squeeze Yoko exits the cabin leaving you alone. The quiet washes over the area and you let out a large breath.

Your eyes drift over to the typewriter you brought. Usually, you author your stories on your laptop, but you brought the typewriter to draw extra inspiration.

Before you attempt to write, you call your aunt like Yoko instructed. By the time the call ended Yoko had texted you that she made it home safely.

You sat in front of the typewriter just thinking. The pressure was building. There was a finality in writing on a typewriter that wasn't there when you worked digitally. You’re somewhat forced to be more intentional with your words. Which was the main rain you had brought it in the first place.

It feels like forever before you type your fist sentence. Slowly, but surely you begin finding a rhythm and soon enough you’re loading in another sheet of paper.

A text message a few hours later is what finally breaks your concentration. You assume that it is Yoko or your aunt, but you're wrong.

Wednesday: Enid tells me you’ve taken up shelter in a cabin in hopes of ending your writer’s block.

You: I have and it's working quite well actually.

Wednesday: With all of the Vampire killing going on, you find locking yourself up some in a cabin to be safe?

You: Not you too 😒. I’m fine, Yoko lives close by and I'm very capable of defending myself Addams.

Wednesday: If you’re put in a position to have to defend yourself, that just shows that you didn’t take the proper methods of precaution.

You: I assure you; I have taken every possible precaution.

“Have you really?”

You scream and jump at the same time. Your hand places itself over your shallow beating heart.

“What the fuck, Wednesday?”

The woman eyes you up and down, “Vulgarity is new for you, Y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before."

Your phone rings before you can question your old classmate. You pick it up hearing Yoko’s slightly panicked voice at the end, “Are you alright? I heard your heart rate like triple.”

“I’m fine Yoko, just have an unsuspected visitor.”

“Who?”

Wednesday makes her presence know, “Hello, Tanaka.”

You can nearly see the other Vampire smiling on the other end of the line, “Addams, very interesting. Well, call me if you need anything baby bat, I’ll talk to you later."

You say a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. You turn your attention back to Wednesday. The last time you saw her was a little over a year ago at some party Enid was throwing. She hadn’t changed much; in fact, she hadn’t really changed much of her aesthetic since Nevermore.

Her attire was still all black. She still had her two braids. She might’ve been an inch taller and maybe her tan was a little darker, but she was essentially the same.

“How did you find me and why are you here?”

Wednesday walks around observing the cabin with each step, “Well I mentioned that Enid told me, that girl can’t keep any details to herself. She said you’d be staying close to Yoko, and this is the closest available cabin to her. I thought I would have had to search more, but I got lucky with this one.”

“Okay… but why?”

“Is it so strange that I want to catch up with an old friend?”

You look at her incredulously, “You wanted to see me, so you tracked me down and broke into the place I'm staying at? Try again.”

“I’m investigating the increasing amount of murders in the Vampire community,” she reveals.

“Oh.”

Wednesday begins to explain, “As you know the unprovoked hunting of Vampires has been illegal for quite some time now. Yet this year alone the number of bodies belonging to the immortals have been found at an alarming rate. A lot of Vampires are afraid that they might be next. With terror comes two paths avoidance or violence. Neither has ideal conclusions for the Vampire race. To avoid would be to possibly become extinct and the violent route means a war. Someone must put a stop to it before it goes too far.”

Hearing the reality of the situation from Wednesday feels more bone chilling than when your aunt or Yoko mentioned it. The last war between the Vampires and the human race had ended horribly for both sides. So much death that both sides eventually relented to peace talks. Those talks laid a lot of foundation for not only Vampire rights, but also the rights of many supernatural beings. Another war wouldn’t only affect the Vampires, but all relations between humans and supernatural beings would be up in the air.

“Another war would cause complete and utter chaos,” you say.

Wednesday agrees, “It would be the end of peaceful relationship between the naturals and the supernatural entirely.”

“What does any of that have to do with me, Wednesday?”

The brown eyed girl bores into your eyes, “My pride has learned to take a backseat over the years. I understand now that I cannot do everything on my own. The stakes of this investigation are the highest that I’ve ever come across. I require assistance from people I trust to ensure this matter is properly dealt with."

“You need my help,” you summarize her words.

“Yes. I’m currently making my way through my list of allies. Enid suggested that I recruit former Nightshades.”

Your eyes drift over to your typewriter, “Has anyone else agreed to this?”

“Enid is in, she’s in the process of convincing Bianca, Ajax, and Ken. I’m here for Divina, Yoko, and you.”

The pressure of this decision weighs heavily on you. Choosing to stay and write your book rather than fighting for the rights of your people seems ridiculously selfish. On the other hand, willingly agreeing to put yourself in the middle of a potential war didn’t sound much better.

“I need a drink.”

You enter the kitchen, locating the bottle of blood wine you had brought with you. With a wine glass and corkscrew at the ready, you’re pouring yourself a hefty glass.

Your sipping from glass at an eager pace before refocusing your attention on to Wednesday, “Do you want a drink?”

“Bourbon, neat,” she steps into the kitchen.

You sit your glass to begin making Wednesday her drink.

“I never pegged you for a dark liquor type of detective, it’s a little cliché.”

She’s quick to shoot back, “And a female writer with an affinity for wine isn’t?”

You wince playfully, “Touché.”

When you hand her the drink she continues the banter, “Your typewriter is an antique, Royal Magic Margin from 1938. Impressive."

“Amdis got it for me as gift after my first bestseller. I only really use it when I have writer’s block otherwise, I'm on my laptop like everyone else.”

“Though I’ve embraced most technology I still prefer my typewriter. It feels more satisfying when I can physically see all of the pages,” she shares.

You nod, “Understandable.”

The two of sit in silence as you nurse your drinks. You keep running through scenarios in your mind of how this all will turn out. Even the good outcome for the supernatural beings didn't necessarily mean a good outcome for yourself. Anything could happen to you along the way.

“I know that what I’m asking you to do is a lot, but I assure you that I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think you were capable.”

Your finger plays with the rim of your empty glass, “Do you have any leads, evidence, or plans, or would we be going into this completely blind?”

“I have a few leads and pieces of evidence. I have the ghost of a plan, but I can’t finalize anything until I know my allies. For now, the plan is to gather a team to bring to my residence in order to create a feasible plan of action,” Wednesday explains.

You bargain with her, “If you can convince Yoko, I’m in. I don't want to be the only Vampire around if we're going to be facing hunters.”

“Fair, I was wondering if there was any potential in getting Amdis to join in as well,” Wednesday propositions.

You frown, “You know my aunt doesn’t play well with others. If I tell her that I’m getting involved in something like this she will personally track me down and drag me off to the furthest corner of the Earth.”

“Right, well then we shall wait for one hour and then I will drive us to Yoko's,” Wednesday says matter-of-factly.

“Why are we waiting an hour?”

Wednesday kept a deadpan look on her face, “For the drinks to metabolize."

An hour later the two of you are making the drive to Yoko’s house.

“How have you been fairing?” Wednesday keeps her eyes on the road as she speaks to you.

“Fine and you?”

You see the woman’s shoulders drop a bit, “I never imagined you’d give me such a scripted answer, Y/n. I thought we were years past formalities.”

Her words startle you. This is a side of Wednesday that you are still getting to know. You’re used to her being more nonchalant with the feelings of others.

“Sorry, it’s just my most given answer. I don’t know how I’m doing. I’m a successful writer, but I’m suffering with writers’ block. That doesn’t even really matter when my people are being slaughtered though does it?”

“I think we’re approaching the age where we don’t know what matters anymore? Everything blurs together and starts to feel the same. Success doesn’t seem as important as we thought it was when we were younger. We are going to save the Vampires and avenge the ones that have been lost. Then maybe we’ll be to appreciate the triviality of our daily struggles,” Wednesday answers you completely.

You find yourself staring at her side profile. There’s a hidden vulnerability in her words. You don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but you question her anyway, “Have you been uninspired lately?”

“Uninspired, unmotivated, and bored. Not just with writing, but with the detective work too. I’ve thrown myself into my work since I was a child. Though I’ve seen the heights of success, they weren’t as tall as I pictured them to be. I suppose it’s like, I’ve grown larger than my dreams, and now I find myself… unsatisfied.”

“Then why take on this case?”

The woman licks her lips for a second before taking a quick glance at you, “It’s personal, isn’t it? I’m not a Vampire, but you are as well as Yoko. I can’t sit around and do nothing, as the people that I’ve worked hard to care about lose everything. Like we said earlier, this problem could expand beyond Vampires. My best friend is a Werewolf. Nearly every person that I tolerate is a supernatural being. I refuse to wait until it’s too late to act.”

A small smile takes over your features, “Noble as always, Wednesday.”

She scoffs in faux agitation, “Still trying to paint me as some kind of heroic figure.”

“Well maybe if you’d stop saving the day, I’d let it go,” you tease her.

“I don’t save the day; I simply follow leads and clean up investigations.”

You answer with sarcasm, “Of course, and it’s not like you take these events and turn them into bestselling novels where the protagonist is a reflection of yourself.”

“How dare you drag Viper De La Muerte into this?”

You laugh at the menacing tone behind her words, “Look, I thought we were done giving scripted answers. You, Wednesday Addams are one of the most heroic people I've ever encountered. Stop being stubborn and treasure the compliment.”

She parks the car before turning her full attention to you, “Perhaps I have some of the qualities of a hero, but I refuse the title. I’m more than the mysteries I solve or the books I write. There are plenty of times I was less than hero like.”

The both of you exit the car. You mumble to yourself, but she still hears you, “Spoken like true hero.”

You ring the doorbell and wait for Yoko to answer. It takes less than a minute for her to open the door.

“Baby bat, already out of the cabin so fast? And you brought a friend too. Long time no see, Addams.”

Yoko steps aside to let you in. The two of you enter and subsequently follow her into the living room.

“I’ve come to ask a favor of you, Yoko,” Wednesday gets straight to the point.

Yoko eyes you for clarification, “I think it’s best she speaks for herself here.”

Wednesday tells Yoko the same thing she told you. The Vampire did not interrupt once. Her facial expression stays neutral as she takes on the information and what is being asked of her.

“That’s a big ask Addams,” Yoko says once she’s heard it all.

“I’m aware, but we would be the only thing standing between an all-out war,” she reasons.

Yoko sucks her teeth, “And Divina is needed as well?”

“Ideally, yes.”

She’s silent for a few minutes. There’s a slow tension building in the room as you wait for her answer.

With a huff of annoyance she agrees, “I’m on board, Addams. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t at least try?”

Wednesday turns her attention to you.

“Fine, but I’m too young to die Wednesday,” It’s as much a joke as it is the truth.

“I would give up my life before I’d let you lose yours.”

Her words seem to suck all of the air out of your lungs. It’s the way she says it, in that way only she can. She speaks these passionate words as if they are fact. They’re common sense to her but seem like an alien language to you.

You say nothing, just sit there trying to keep your face from showing how flustered you are.

“Anyway… should I wake up Divina and pack our things now?”

Wednesday nods curtly, “The sooner we leave the better. It’s a long way to my residence.”

-At The Addams’s Estate-

Wednesday had not been exaggerating about the nearly 8-hour drive to her home. The property was just as unique as the members of the Addams’ family.

“Enid should be here somewhere with the others. You can sit your bags by the door Lurch will take care of them,” Wednesday instructs the three of you.

You all follow her through the home. As you get closer to the rest, you can hear Enid chatting away.

“Some things never change, do they?” Divina nudges Yoko.

The Vampire smiles, “The day that Wolfie has nothing to say, is a day I truly fear.”

When you enter the kitchen area you are met with a plethora of familiar faces. Enid is having a very animated conversation with Bianca. While Ken and Ajax are speaking amongst themselves.

The blonde let’s out shrill yell when notices your arrival. She’s quick to envelope her oldest friend in a hug, “Yoko, I’ve missed you.”

Enid’s grip is something fierce but Yoko hugs her back regardless, “We just saw each other last week, but I missed you too Wolfie."

Divina and Enid exchange quick pleasantries before the siren makes a beeline for her twin.

When it’s your turn Enid can’t help but to lift you off of the ground. It startles you a bit, but you let out of laugh, “You’re a lot stronger than I remember, Enid.”

“It’s a wolf thing, Vampy.”

You groan at the nickname, “I could’ve sworn that we agreed that you wouldn’t call me that.”

The blonde shrugs, “I don’t recall. Wednesday do you recall?”

“You’re asking her because you remember that she was there,” you point out.

The corners of Wednesday’s lips turn up slightly, “We all have unfortunate nicknames given to us by Enid. I believe it is a form of endearment. Though ‘Vampy' is not ideal, it could be worse.”

“See you could stand to learn a thing or two from Willa,” Enid beams.

“Don’t push it,” Wednesday threatens, her stoic expression returning to her face.

Enid concedes, “Understood.”

Wednesday snaps her fingers getting the attention of the room, “We all know why we have gathered here. As much as I would love to dive right into all of the details surrounding the event, I feel as though it would be beneficial to make sure everyone is settled in first. Get reacquainted with each other, try to enjoy this time. Tomorrow we will begin the real work.”

The traveling likely was weighing the abilities of the group. Most of them completing a full days’ worth of travel just to get to the home. Trying to rally them at this point would be a waste of time.

Upon hearing Wednesday's words, the talking picks back up again. Everyone is engaged in a conversation. Wednesday sees this and takes that as her cue to try to leave the room.

You stop her, “Leaving your guests already?”

“Enid is a much more entertaining host than me. She’s familiar with the home so she should be fine,” Wednesday tries to justify her exit.

“Where are you going?”

Wednesday fixes her posture slightly, “If you must know completing a nearly 16-hour drive back and forth is quiet tiresome. I was hoping to get some rest.”

Your eyebrow raises in amusement, “My god, I’ve seen it all. The Wednesday I grew up with would never admit to actually needing sleep.”

She rolls her eyes, “I said rest, not sleep. The two aren’t always synonymous.”

“Well, I could use some rest too. I've been traveling technically for two days straight.”

Wednesday extends her hand out for you to grab. You stare at it cautiously before slipping your hand into hers.

“I’ll show you to the room,” she begins dragging you through the house.

You wonder if she took your hand, so you'd be forced to keep up. It could be a precaution about you getting lost, her home was big, so it made sense. Maybe she remembered your affinity for physical touch and was trying to offer you comfort.

The last thought made you blush. You were grateful the woman was in front of you as to avoid her seeing your face.

She opens a door to what you assume is the room you’ll be staying in. When she closes it behind her, she starts to speak again, “Because I’m not regularly used to accommodating such a large number of guests, rooms will be shared. You and I will be sharing if that is alright.”

“This is seeming more and more like Nevermore by the minute,” you joke, though on the inside your nerves are failing you.

“Would you like me to get the tape?”

Though her tone doesn’t reflect it, you can tell she’s joking, “It’d only be for your benefit Addams, I don’t mind being close to you.”

“Good to know,” she says it to herself more than to you.

The room is large, you can tell it’s somewhat of a masters suite. It doesn’t surprise you to see that there's a bookcase situated against a wall. Near the shelf there’s a medium sized black couch that you could picture the girl reading on.

The bed in the center of the room is large, you assume it’s king sized. It feels silly to picture Wednesday laying in that huge bed alone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you that according to Yoko, Wednesday doesn’t spend her nights alone. It's in that same frame of thought that you realize there’s only one bed.

Wednesday heads over to the couch, “You will take the bed.”

You shake your head, “I can take the couch, this is your home.”

Wednesday counters, “And you are my guest.”

“Don’t be stubborn Addams.”

Her gaze meets yours aa little fiercer than usual, “I thought last name basis was just something between Tanaka and I, but it seems to have rubbed off on you.”

You crease your brow, “Abrupt change of subject don’t you think?”

She shakes her head a bit and the emotion leaves her eyes. She reaches for a book off of the shelf, burying her face in it, “Take the bed, Y/n."

“Old habits die hard I see,” you comment, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What are you referring to?”

You purse your lips, “The way you avoid discomforting topics.”

You can see her jaw twitch from your place on the bed. For a moment, you think you overstepped.

She keeps her focus on the book, “I’d prefer if you’d just call me Wednesday.”

You keep your eyes on her, “Well, Wednesday, I think your bed is quite large. Too large for just one person, in my opinion. I see no reason for you to take the couch, when there is ample space on the bed.”

The statement makes her sit the book down on her lap, “You would be comfortable with that?”

You fight the urge to look away from her, “I wouldn't have suggested it if it made me uncomfortable.”

She gets up from the couch and hesitantly makes her way towards the bed. She sits on the side opposite of you, leaning her back against the headboard. You follow her lead and get comfortable. You lay flat on your back, pulling out your phone for entertainment.

You attempt to fight the urge to fall asleep. However, between the traveling and the softness of the mattress, you lose.

Your light snores pull Wednesday out of her book. She takes in your sleeping figure, analytically. Her thoughts roam freely in her mind as she watches you sleep.

She wonders if the rest of your skin is as soft as your hand. Wednesday wonders if you have laid in bed like this with anyone else. She wonders just how close she could get to you without it b being inappropriate.

The truth of the situation pokes at her. Yes, this case was foundationally important to her. She hadn’t lied in trying to get you to her home, but she also wasn’t entirely truthful. Wednesday didn’t like knowing what was happening to Vampires and being so far away from you. In her mind the closer you are to her, the easier it is to keep you safe.

An aggravated sigh escapes her. After all these years and her futile attempts to move on, she finds herself just as enamored with you as she was at Nevermore.

Now here you were, in her bed. Yet romance couldn't even be considered with such important things at hand. Wednesday had to stay sharp, to keep her focus on the task at hand. This was likely the biggest investigation of her career, potentially the last one she would ever do. Failing here meant failing you, and everyone else she cared for.

Though it was unlike herself she tried to stay optimistic. She refused to believe she had gathered you all to put you in worthless danger.

With her book long forgotten, she attempts to rest her eyes as well.

“I’m using this as blackmail one day.”

“They aren't even that close together.”

“That’s what Photoshop is for Yoko. You're looking at an Adobe certified editor.”

Your eyes open just enough to see Enid and Yoko conversing at the entrance to the room.

“Just take the damn picture Enid, before one of them wakes up.”

You sit up right in the bed, startling the women, “Too late.”

You yawn, sighing in satisfaction when your bones crack.

“We were just-”

“Being weirder than usual and taking pictures of us in our sleep,” Wednesday answers, sitting up in a similar fashion to you.

“Jesus, you guys are the creeps! Who wakes up like that?” Enid replies, completely deflecting on to the women sharing a bed.

“What do you want?” You ask them, your voice echoing as you wipe your eyes.

Enid rolls her eyes, “Relax Vampy, we just came to say dinner’s ready. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours already.”

“Ok, we’ll be down in a minute,” Wednesday tells them.

“Take your time kids,” Yoko says, pulling Enid along with her.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the last of your tiredness out of your body.

“I’m going to shower before I go down, you don’t have to wait for me,” Wednesday gets out of the bed.

Your body almost melts at the thought of a shower. It’s as if the word itself makes you untense.

“A shower sounds nice,” you say aloud.

“Though I’m aware of the dire state of the climate crisis-”

Your face turns red, and you cut her off, “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean together. I just meant in general.”

You marvel as you see color paint her cheeks "Oh, yes, that does make more sense. Down the hall, first door on the right there’s another bathroom.”

The two of split off into your separate showers. You find each other at the top of the stairs heading to dinner together.

You never pictured Wednesday in relaxed apparel before, but she stood beside you in a pair of black pajama pants and an oversized shirt. It looked like the clothes would swallow her up.

“Were you expecting something more elaborate,” Wednesday speaks, noting your lingering gaze.

“Maybe, but I like this.”

She heads down the stairs without another word and you follow behind her. Once you get to the kitchen table you take a seat next to Yoko while Wednesday sits at the head of the table.

“Enjoy your nap baby bat?” Yoko says suggestively.

“Do enjoy having 2 fangs?”

Yoko laughs, “How unusually violent of you.”

You roll your eyes, “Unusually? Have you forgotten the way I was when we first met.”

“All talk, no action,” Yoko argues back.

“Ajax, do you recall when I broke your nose?” You call him out, trying to make a point.

He sighs poking at his nose, “I do, it’s been a little crooked ever since.”

“Well, if you hadn’t stood up Enid, your nose would be straighter,” you remind him.

“Hey, I accidentally turned myself to stone.”

You shrug, “Should’ve led with that.”

Bianca laughs, “You didn’t even give him a chance. It was definitely on sight.”

Ken adds on, “No literally, and she just walked over him when he was on the ground.”

“It was kind of like a hit and run, except she slowly walked away,” Divina thinks out loud.

It’s nice to laugh and joke you still can. It feels like something you’ve been missing lately in your life. The sense of community that you have here surrounded by your friends is warm.

It's not that you isolate yourself from others. You make it to their parties or gatherings for special occasions, but it’s not often. It’s also not everyone like this. Though you wish the circumstances were better, you’re grateful for this, as you don’t know when it will happen again.

After the meal, you head back to the room. You aren’t tired, in fact you feel focused. With your laptop in hand, you sit on the couch. You take this moment to begin recalling things that might be important for the investigation. You think over the historical content that you know about Vampires. Strengths, weaknesses, previous war efforts, and enemies, anything that might help for tomorrow.

You’re familiar with the 6 W's of investigating, so you assume that’s where you’ll start tomorrow. You had some theories based on what you had seen and known from your aunt, but you couldn’t confirm anything without Wednesday’s evidence.

It made sense for this to be a group of hunters, but with the volume of deaths and missing cases, it was improbable to believe they were working alone. Killing Vampires wasn’t an easy feat. They were strong and nearly immortal. Evolution had done the race good. Garlic had been minimized to an allergy, they didn’t combust in the sun anymore, and wood could not simply penetrate their skin.

Silver was still the deadliest of their weaknesses, followed shortly by magic, holy water, and finally the claws of a wolf. There were other things that made them vulnerable, but those were the main ones.

“Feeling inspired to write after dinner?” Wednesday enters the room.

“You could say that. I'm actually getting some of my thoughts together for tomorrow. I want to have everything I know readily available. That way when we start going into what you already have, I could potentially plug in useful information.”

Wednesday sits next to you on the couch, slightly leaning over your shoulder to look at what you have written so far, “Has there ever been a civil war amongst the Vampires?”

You nod, “Multiple times. The first one was about territory expansion. At one point the entire population of Vampires was in one place. Some people thought that it was necessary for survival, others believed that they should be able to go wherever they wanted. People picked sides and they fought against each other.”

“I’m going to assume the side who wanted to separate won.”

You shrug, “Kind of. That war technically led to us being discovered by humans. There was lots of commotion, you can’t necessarily hide a war. Once they were discovered the humans began trying to kill them. So, they had to make a truce to fight against the humans. There was a huge loss of our people, a loss that some argued could’ve been minimized if we all weren’t in one spot. After that any Vampire who wanted to stray from the coven was allowed to.”

“I see, and the other wars?”

You continue, “I only know of 2 more that were civil. The next one was about interspecies relationships, and the last time we fought it was about ethical consumption of blood. The quick version of events with the interspecies dispute was that there had been this obsession with being pure. Vampires were not allowed to mate outside of the race, regardless of who the other party was. It was challenged after our war against the Werewolves; as a number of Vampires had fallen in love with certain Werewolves.”

“The blood one was quite recent, correct?”

You nod, “I was alive for that one. Maybe 5 or 6 years old. It was probably the largest civil war we’d had; some people even believe we’re still in it today. We need blood to survive, but everyone was divided about where we could get that blood. Some people didn’t want to drink from humans as it is not the best for our image in their eyes. Others argued that drinking from animals could slowly kill the ecosystem. There was even more fighting when it came to how to obtain it.”

“Who won?”

Again, you shrug, “Like I said some people say this one is still happening. It ended in a sort of agree-to-disagree manner. There are technically restrictions about how much of any species that a single Vampire can consume but-”

“Not everyone abides by those restrictions,” Wednesday finishes your sentence.

“Exactly. What are you thinking about all of this in correlation with the investigation?”

Wednesday doesn’t hesitate to share, “I asked about in-fighting within the community because I believe that Vampires are in some ways responsible for these murders.”

You hold back a gasp, “You think we’re killing each other off?”

Wednesday points to a part in your notes, “You have it written out here that you don’t think it’s the hunters alone if it’s them at all. They don’t have the strength or the numbers to operate on a high scale like this. They have to be working with some non-human supernatural beings. Who better to help kill Vampires than other Vampires?”

“As much as it sickens me, we can't rule it out. However, you did say any non-humans, which could mean anything. We all know the history between Vampires and Werewolves. We also know that a noted weakness of Vampires is magic which could indicate Witches. I don’t think we can rule out anyone yet,” you reason with her.

Wednesday’s gaze softens as she looks at you. It’s as if she knows something you don’t. For a moment you can see her contemplating, in her mind.

“Do you know something I don’t,” your voice is delicate as you press for answers.

You can see her mask falling back into place, “I think we should talk about it tomorrow.”

She tries to get up from the couch, but your hand grasps her wrist, “Wednesday.”

She wishes she could ignore your plea, but it was impossible. Maybe if she was the teenager she used to be, she could shrug you off and stand her ground a bit better. However, Wednesday had grown up and knew that acting in that way would not benefit the relationship.

“Come with me,” she says, slipping her hand into yours.

You stand and walk with her out of the room. You walk down the hall, taking a turn before approaching a door. When Wednesday enters the room, you immediately realize it as her study. If the large desk in the middle of the room wasn’t a giveaway; then you’re certain that the evidence board on the wall would’ve given it a way.

The raven-haired girl waits to speak. She watches as your eyes scan the evidence board. It’s a mess of pictures, sticky notes, and red string, but she’s certain you can follow it.

The images on the board are disturbing, she paid close attention to your reaction to them. Pictures of people like you, but lifeless. Some bloody and gore filled, others with bones broken, and some just neat.

You study the pictures, perhaps longer than you should. Your brain is working overtime to find some sort of connection.

“There’s a marking on them. You can’t see it in the pictures, but it’s visible in person. I drew it, right there. I tried to look it up, but the only thing that came up was general Vampire facts. I couldn’t tell of this was some kind of branding or maybe an identity mark that Vampires have,” Wednesday breaks your concentration.

Your eyes flit over to the drawing. It was a circle with triangles around the inner lining, and in the center was a swirl. You recognize the symbol but can’t necessarily recall from where.

“I’ve seen this before.”

Your fingers reach out to trace over the symbol. As soon as they find the paper you feel a burning sensation in the middle of your back. The pain makes you grunt and crumple on to the floor. Blood wells behind your eyes and spills out as you cry silently.

Wednesday is by your side instantly. She tries calling your name and asking what’s wrong, but you can’t respond to her in the state of pain. She sees you clawing at your shirt and without hesitation helps you take it off.

In the middle of your back, she can see a scar forming. It looks like the outline of the symbol she had drawn. It was only the circle; the triangles and spirals hadn’t formed yet.

“Burns,” you manage to spit out. Your fangs come out without your permission.

Wednesday stands up frantically searching for something in her office that would help you. When she returns to your side you can hear her opening a jar of sorts.

Without much warning you feel her hand rubbing the substance on to your back. You flinch out of fear but are relieved when the burning sensation dies down significantly. As your breathing returns to normal, you attempt to sit up.

“Well, I guess we know it’s a brand now,” you attempt to joke.

Wednesday glares at you for a second. She wipes her hands off before reaching to wipe the blood off of your face.

“Nothing about this is funny. You have this circle on your back, we don’t know what it means, and you’re a bloody mess.”

You grab her wrist to stop her from wiping the blood off your face, “These are just tears Wednesday. I’m fine.”

She looks at you wildly, “You are not fine-”

“Wednesday, we have more pressing matters at hand.”

She shakes her head firmly, “They can wait. Get on the desk.”

You furrow your brow, “Excuse me?”

“Get on the desk so that I can properly examine the wound,” she elaborates.

It’s when you stand that you start to really process that you don’t have a shirt on. Wednesday politely turns and waits for you to follow her instructions. You do as she asks, laying against the cold wood.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Just be still.”

You try to relax as reality begins to crash down on you. Not only is there a partial brand stamped into your back, but the woman that you liked since you were a girl is tending to your wound. You’re laying shirtless on her desk while she examines you. This is both a dream and a nightmare.

She begins pressing down on the mark, but you don’t flinch from the touch, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Interesting,” Wednesday says getting a closer look.

“Does it look bad?”

“It looks… healed already. Last time I checked your kind isn’t fast healing.”

You stop her, “Well that’s not entirely true. Some Vampires, usually the older one have enhanced healing features to make up for their evolutionary disadvantages.”

“I want to try something. Sit up and give me your hand,” she says.

“You’re still just as bossy as you were when we were teens,” you say, but again follow her orders.

She huffs at you, “And you’re just as compliant.”

Her words shut you up immediately. You watch as she closes her eyes, both her hands firmly in yours. That’s when you begin to understand that she’s attempting to use her powers.

For a moment you feel her grip loosen before her grip becomes deathly and her eyes shoot open.

“What did you see?”

“You’ve seen it on a book at your house, it’s your aunts. Old brown leather, it looks like a journal but it’s thick like a book.”

You sigh, “You think we’re going to need that book, don’t you?”

Wednesday confirms, “Ideally yes, but we’ll worry about it later. I think we’ve done enough for today.”

You attempt to get off of the desk. Your foot slips on one of the loose folders Wednesday has on her floor. The dark attires girl is quick to try to steady you.

Her hands feel unusually warm against the bare skin of your sides. You feel her breath fanning over your collarbone. The fabric of her shirt felt soft, lightly tickling your chest.

There was a small tension building between the two of you. You could feel Wednesday’s eyes following a trail from your face all the way down your body. She did it so shamelessly, in way where it made you feel like a piece of evidence she was examining.

You don’t expect it when the back of her hand rests against your forehead, “Do you feel lightheaded, because you look flush?”

The way her eyes examine every corner of your face makes you want to melt on the spot.

“I slipped on your folder,” you manage to slip out.

Her hand drops from your forehead to caress your cheek, “I must clean in here before I let everyone in tomorrow.”

“Wednesday-"

“Can I ask you something Y/n?”

She says this while her hand finds a place on the small of your back, guiding you out of the room. You forget your original thought.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Are you aware of how cool and soft your skin is?”

You stumble over your words, “I- um-"

“It’s always been like that. As long as we’ve known each other, I mean. I remember the first time you put your hand in mine, to shake it. I’ve pondered over the years if the rest of your skin feels the same. Now, I have the answer.”

You’re in her room now. The door closes behind you, and her hand is still on your back. She leads you to the bed, and you still haven't found the words.

All you can manage to say is her name tentatively, “Wednesday.”

“Are you accustomed to sharing a bed like this? Does anyone of note know the comfort of your skin?”

“No,” you answer breathlessly.

Wednesday releases her own breath, “Good.”

You watch helplessly as the woman walks to the other side of the bed and climbs in.

“What was the meaning of this Wednesday?” You say as you climb into the bed.

She dares to get closer to you. There’s a small space between the two of you. Something you could close if you wished to.

“You’re captivating.”

“Is that something you say to everyone that's shared this bed with you?” You can’t help it as the snarky comment leaves you.

Yoko’s words about Wednesday’s escapades run through your mind. At first you doubted the validity of what you had heard, but with the way Wednesday was acting with you, it was starting to make sense. The suaveness of her words, the charm of her certainty, she could have anyone be putty in her hands.

“No, it’s not,” her voice held a sincerity in it that you weren't prepared to hear.

You lay flat on your back, scared to look into the Latina’s eyes, “I've heard about your romantic encounters.”

Wednesday sighs, you can feel her eyes burning into you something akin to the brand on your back, “Y/n, we’re adults rapidly approaching our 30’s. As a teen I could pretend not to be the slightest bit interested in romance. I could focus on my work. However, as I grew, and began to accomplish my goals, I realized that I wanted somebody to share it with. Not platonically, but intimately. So, I tried dating, is that a truly repulsive thought?”

“No, it’s of sound logic, just like everything you say.”

Wednesday lays on her back, turning her attention towards the ceiling, “Have I misinterpreted things between us? The tension, is it of another variety?"

“You haven’t. I’m just having a hard time understanding this.”

Her hand extends into the space between the two of you. Your hand falls into hers and your fingers interlock.

“I should’ve known the moment I met you that any other attempts at romance would be frivolous. I apologize for my timing, but with you here with me in this capacity, I could not help myself. I thought I would be able to keep these feelings buried like I did when we were younger, but the truth is Y/n, I yearn for you.”

“Wednesday-"

“No one has ever come into my quarters to lay with me. I’ve never brought anyone home, and subconsciously I knew why. None of them would live up to you. Your beauty, your strength, your humor, your passion; all unrivaled.”

You squeeze her hand, “Careful, you’re sounding like your father.”

“I can no longer afford to be careful. I am willing to risk my reputation if it means that you will entertain my pleas.”

“I always thought that one day I’d tell you how I felt about you, and you’d be kind enough to let me down gently. This is a lot to take in,” you close your eyes briefly.

“Is this something you want?”

Your eyes meet hers and suddenly they’re burning just as intensely, “Yes, but I am afraid. Wednesday, you brought me here to help you save my people. This isn’t Crackstone or some stalker, I could die. Hell, you could die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Why is it so easy for you to say that?”

As your head falls her hand lightly grips your chin forcing you to keep eye contact with her, “Because I mean it. Have I ever broken my word?”

“No, but-"

She moves closer, closing the gap between you. You feel everything slow as her thumb cascades across your bottom lip.

“I could argue you down with logic if I have to. My track record speaks for itself, but I don’t want to do that. I want you to trust me, can you trust me?”

You nod, internally shivering when her lips slightly brush against yours. Your breath mingles with hers and your eyes begin to flutter.

“I trust you.”

Wednesday moves hesitantly, but she’s basically already there. Your lips touch experimentally. She keeps getting closer until she’s on top of you. She’s straddling your waist with your face still in her hands. Your hands slide under her shirt to rest on her waist. She’s warm, warmer than you ever could’ve imagined.

You push her away from you a little as you work to control your breath.

“What’s wrong?” She looks for signs of discomfort or regret on your features.

You open your mouth, showing your fangs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wednesday slips her thumb into your mouth. You keep it open, feeling her touch your teeth. The pad of her thumb against the point of your fangs. She pricks herself and you know it immediately.

A single drop of her blood falls onto your tongue. Your lips enclose around her thumb as you suck lightly. Her blood is rich but bitter like an expensive chocolate.

You moan at the taste. Red hues swirling around as you taste her, “God Wednesday.”

She pulls her thumb from your mouth. Her chest heaves slightly, “I would allow you to drink from me until my knees were weak. As much as I desire that, I fear that if we go any farther it will becoming increasingly indecent.”

You nod, inhaling deeply, “You’re right, it seems like we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

She steals another kiss from you before she returns to her spot next to you. She tries to put distance between you two, but you pull her flush against you. Her back against your front. Your purposefully blow air against her ear.

“Where did you think you were going?” You chuckle in her ear.

“I thought we were giving each other space, as to not escalate our behaviors,” she murmurs.

It makes you laugh even more, “Can’t control yourself enough to lie next to me?”

Her arms overlap yours to keep them place, “I can. I suppose I forgot that you are someone who prefers physical contact.”

“We don’t have to cuddle,” you say.

“No, I like this,” Wednesday holds on to you tighter.

“Goodnight, Wednesday,” you whisper into her hair.

“Goodnight.”

You weren’t ready to wake up when you felt the warmth move from beside you in the morning. Your arms pat around the bed searching for the girl that had spent the night next to you.

You groan when you are unable to locate her.

“Go back to sleep it’s early.”

Instead of listening to the voice, you sit up and began to rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Where are we going?”

“I am going to clean my study, and you’re staying here,” she puts emphasis on the ‘I.’

“Let me help,” you say getting completely out of the bed and stretching your limbs.

You hear Wednesday sigh, “Your eyes aren’t even open.”

You open them slowly, adjusting to the new brightness, “Better?”

Wednesday rolls her, “Fine, but put a shirt on. We don't need everyone seeing your bra.”

You let a dopey smile play on your features before throwing a shirt over your head, “Jealous?”

“And if I were to say yes?”

You walk across the room to stand in front of the shorter girl, “Then I’d say you have nothing to worry about. Divina, Yoko, and Enid have all seen me shirtless before and none of them have been swooned.”

Wednesday glares at you, “Not funny, I recount Enid saying some rather interesting words about your body.

Your eyebrows raise, “Wolfie liked what she saw then?”

You could see Wednesday’s jaw clench, “If you would rather room with Enid that can be arranged.”

You shake your head, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Color dusts Wednesday’s cheeks as she looks away from you, “We’re supposed to be cleaning my study.”

You step aside and dramatically gestures towards the door, “After you.”

“After I practice my dental hygiene,” Wednesday says taking steps to her restroom.

“I’ll do the same and we’ll meet in front of the office?”

She nods and the two of you go your separate ways briefly before meeting in front of Wednesday's office.

It was as messy as it had been the night before. Together you work in silence to make the room more presentable. Papers that are scattered on the floor find themselves in neat stacks on her desk. Some of the books are returned to their proper home against the wall. You clean until the only mess that remains is your shirt from last night and a small bloodstain on the floor.

Wednesday picks up the shirt before you do, she examines it. When she holds it up there’s a notable hole in it, the shape matches the one of the symbols that was now etched into your back.

“Just how hot was it?”

When you get a glimpse of the shirt you frown, “I’ve never felt such an intense pain in my whole life. It felt like the sun was resting on my back.”

Wednesday keeps the shirt as evidence she you help her remove the stain from the floor. By the time you finish it’s actually a reasonable time in the morning.

You decide to go the kitchen and look for sustenance. Yoko, Enid, and Bianca are already there, seemingly making breakfast for everyone.

“Morning,” Enid speaks enthusiastically.

You greet them quietly, taking a seat at the table. Yoko brings you a slice of toast that’s covered in, what you assume is blood jam. You’re correct, and munch on the bread happily.

“Y/n did you have a nightmare or something last night?” The other Vampire questions, taking a seat next to you.

“I was going to ask the same thing, your heart was going crazy, and it sounded like you were crying,” Enid adds on.

“I think it’s better if I wait to tell everyone at once,” you mumble.

“Does it have to do with the investigation?” Bianca correctly assesses your hesitance.

Wednesday answers, “Yes, and let’s hold any further questions until after breakfast.”

You can see Yoko roll her eyes behind her glasses, “How come Addams gets to know and I don’t?”

“Yoko, we were together, so she saw everything. I’ll tell everyone once we’re getting ready to start working out the plan.”

One by one, everyone else appears in the kitchen. The chatter is low but fills the room all the same. Once everyone finished, Wednesday starts to direct them towards the office. As they file into the room Wednesday grabs your hand pulling you to the stand with her in front of the evidence.

“Last night after speaking with Y/n, about the history of in-fighting in the Vampire community, we came to this room to go over some of the evidence that I have gathered. During that time, I pointed out the pattern of this symbol on the victims. Though it did not photograph well, I took the time to draw it. When Y/n touched that drawing, it partially burned into her skin.”

You turn with your back facing them. You raise up your shirt to just above the scar on your back. A few gasps are heard with the reveal.

“That symbol belongs to the first generation of elders,” Yoko inspects the drawing.

“Do you know why it burned her?”

Yoko tilts her head to the side, “There was a story my parents used to tell me about it, but I always thought it was legend. The symbol was originally the crest of the first Vampires in existence. It goes back to the territory expansion, the elders wanted everyone to stay together. However, when it was decided that the others could leave, they wanted a way of being able to identify each other once out in the world. They took their symbol and filled it with cursed magic. It marked every Vampire that it could touch.”

“Does that explain why it’s on the bodies?” Ajax questioned.

Bianca answers him, “I doubt it, that story is probably hundreds if not thousands of years old. Most of these victims wouldn’t have been around back then, according to this board.”

Yoko adds on, “Bianca is right. After Vampires were allowed to migrate, it didn’t make sense for us to all follow one set of elders. So, everyone kind of started doing their own thing, finding guidance in the community rather than the original elders. Of course this upset them, they tried warning people about fighting against them. Eventually their need for control caused them to do some heinous things to other Vampires resulting in exile. Their symbol was banned and as far as I know they dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Is there a chance that these markings come from them?” Ken speaks up.

The group looks to Yoko and yourself for answers.

“It’s not impossible…” You begin to say.

“But as immortal as we claim to be, we can still die. The average life span is somewhere around 500-700 years. They would be pushing 1,000 if not older,” Yoko finishes.

“Did you have any suspects Wednesday?” Divina chimes in.

Wednesday begins to point to the evidence board, “There’s inconsistencies across the murders. They all look different, live in different areas, various ages, even the way they are being killed seems different in each circumstance. In some places I’ve found some typical Vampire hunter weapons, stakes, silver, matches. However, with respect to the scale of the crimes it is unlikely that they’re working alone.”

Enid begins to speculate, “So we think the elders Vampires are teaming up with the Vampire hunters? How does that work?”

“Well, the motivation is there for both parties. If the elders are still alive, they have to be powerful beings. Even if the hunters wanted to kill them, they probably couldn’t,” you offer her an answer.

“That or the hunters could be under hypnosis. So, they have no choice but to work with the elders,” Yoko adds on.

“So, what’s the plan Addams?”

Bianca’s question refocuses the attention on Wednesday. You all can see the gears spinning in her brain. This was tedious work, not something that could be wrapped up instantaneously.

“We’ll start by getting the book from Amdis. Then I have a few leads we can follow.”

It wasn’t a full plan just something structured enough to start. Things could develop and change depending on what you found in the book, so it made sense to keep things open.

You weren’t necessarily fond of bringing everyone to your house to collect the book, but it was the most efficient thing to do. That way you guys would be able to check out Wednesday’s leads together straight after.

You were hoping that your aunt wouldn’t be at the house when you arrived. It was a silly thing to hope for, you knew she was an introvert. Your key wasn’t in the door for 3 seconds before it was yanked open.

“Back from finding yourself in the woods already? Oh, and you’ve brought guests.”

You lead your friends into the house going straight to the living area. The book you were looking for should be somewhere on the bookcase. Locating it is easy; it sticks out amongst the rest. You’re scared to touch it, the burning sensation still very fresh in your mind. Wednesday can sense the hesitation from your side, she picks up the book, tucking it under her arm.

“We haven’t come to stay, I just need to grab something, and we’ll be on our way,” you call out to your aunt.

“On your way where exactly?”

Your mind goes blank, but thankfully Enid cuts in, “We’re going on a little friends vacay. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. With work and life and everything else, we just thought it would be fun to recapture some of that teenage magic before we forget what it felt like.”

“Well, this is more practical then locking yourself in the woods alone, I suppose,” Amdis states.

Your jaw twitches at the slight jab, “More inspiring to have my friends by my side.”

“One last question, where do you think you're taking that book?”

Your face drops with the question, “I’m just doing like you said, caring a little more about our people.”

Amdis crosses her arms over her chest, “I’m just supposed to take that at face value when you have the world’s most unnerving detective by your side? How do you even know that books about Vampires?”

“I have seen this symbol before, why are you making such a big deal of it?”

Amdis stares at you in disbelief, “Because you clearly think I’m some sort of idiot. You’re standing here lying to me like I haven’t known you, your whole life.”

“I’m not a child anymore Amdis, I don’t need you to babysit me. We both know you didn’t want to in the first place,” you shoot at her.

“Is that how you really feel? You want to lay it all out, fine. No, I wasn’t ready to become a parent at 18, but you were all I had. My parents were long gone, and my sister was dead. I knew what it felt like to be alone, to be abandoned, and I didn’t want that for you, Y/n. I sacrificed the little that I had for you, and I’d do it all over again because you’re my family and I love you. Yet, you repay me for my sacrifice with lies, deceit, and accusations. All because I care about you.”

The tension in the room finally explodes. Your friends watch you with careful eyes. Wednesday wants to reach out, but you move before she can. You find yourself sitting in a chair staring at your aunt, the empty expression on your face reminiscent of when you were young, and emotionally avoidant.

You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, trying to find the confidence in your posture. When you speak your voice betrays you, wavering with a soft timidity, “We’re going to stop the extinction.”

The anger vanishes from your aunt’s eyes, “What?”

“I’m going to help save our people, with or without your blessing. It’s dangerous, it’s risky, and perhaps it’s even a little naïve, but Amdis you were right, our people are dying. I’ve seen it and I just can’t stand idly by.”

She exhales audibly, “I’m going with you.”

“But-"

“Kid you’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you go on a literal suicide mission without me. Besides, you’ll all be better off having an expert on your side.”

Bianca interrupts, “We were trying to get her to bring you along in the first place.”

You glare at the siren, “Fine since we’ve figured this out so graciously, I need a minute alone with my aunt. So, talk amongst yourselves and don’t break anything in my house.”

Your aunt leaves the room first and you attempt to follow her. A gentle grasp on your hand stops your briefly.

“Are you going to be alright?”

You squeeze her hand lightly, “I’ll be fine, Wednesday. It’ll be quick, just start looking through the book.”

You squeeze her hand once more before going after your aunt. She’s waiting for you in your room. You close the door behind you as the two of you stare at each other.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I just didn’t want you to try and stop me,” you admit.

“Kid, I know it feels like I’m getting in your way sometimes. It’s not that I don’t believe in you, because I do. You’re one of the brightest minds I’ve ever encountered. I've watched you succeed in spite of everything you’ve been through. I love you and I’m proud of you. I just- I don’t want to lose you too,” you see the tears begin to well in her eyes.

Though she stands defensively, you still make your way across the room to wrap her up in a hug. Her head falls onto your shoulder as you tightly hug her.

“I couldn’t have done any of it with you. You became the parent I needed you to be and I'm grateful for it, I love you for it. You’re not going to lose me, I promise,” you sway with the embrace.

Amdis pushes herself out of the embrace gently, wiping at her eyes, “Let’s go save our people.”

Upon returning to the living room Wednesday presents the book to Amdis holding it up a picture of a man.

“Do you know who this man is?”

“Ulysses Obrien, he was a secretary of sorts. He worked with the elders, even after the territory expansion. Why?”

Wednesday holds up her phone and a modern picture of a man that strongly favors the one in the book is displayed, “Because he’s my first lead.”

With the pictures side by side in front of you, the theory of other Vampires being involved in the extinction was becoming more and more likely. The fact you were looking at the historian of the elders was proof enough they could live that long. The thought of the power alone was intimidating, but you couldn’t run from it. You believed in it too much now; you were going to save the Vampires from extinction.