#nothing of all these things that happened make sense

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Bolter

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Two months after you and The New Avengers moved into the tower, you decide to stay home from a mission, exhaustion and stress catching up with you, figuring it would be good for you to catch up on sleep and spend time with Bob. But instead, a memory resurfaces, one that the Void dragged out of you, and you’re struggling to cope with the potential ramifications.

fem!reader, fluff, mentions of mental health, vague descriptions of trauma, general MCU/Thunderbolts* TWs, Thunderbolts* spoilers

4.1k words

I’ve been obsessed with Bob since I watched this movie, and apparently Avengers tower fics are coming back so had to give you guys my take on it. Part 2 will be coming guys don’t worry - lmk if you want to be tagged. Am also taking requests so drop me an ask <3

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

“I’m not coming.” You stated firmly, arms crossed in the lobby of the New Avengers tower, scowl set into your face. Bucky sighed your name dramatically, mechanical fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration.

“Valentina said…” He started.

“I don't give a fuck what Valentine said. What happened to us owning her?”

“We do, but it’s still not good for our image if…” You cut him off again, voice cold and unyielding.

“Good thing I don't give a fuck about that either.” He sighed again, louder, looking towards the rest of the team for help, but they just shrugged.

“If she doesn't want to come, she doesn't have to come.” Yelena added, tone nonchalant. You nodded along with her, softening your voice slightly now. You didn't actually want to piss him off; you just wanted him to see your point of view.

“It’s just a publicity stunt, Buck. You don't actually need me for it. I’m tired and I want a break. Now is as good a time as any.” A third sigh. A hand running through his hair. A glance at the ceiling, then back to you.

“Fine, stay here. Bob could probably use the company anyway.”

You had been in this tower for two months now, and somehow, you and Bucky had clashed the most. Sure, Walker pissed everyone off most of the time, but he was an easy target to wind up so he had learnt to keep his mouth shut. And Alexei was loud and obnoxious, but his booming laugh and positive spirit redeemed most of his irritating qualities. You got on well with Ava and Yelena - your senses of humour and tortured pasts making an easy bond between the three of you. And Bob… well, you honestly had nothing bad to say about him. He was a calming presence, a breath of fresh air in a tower of tactically trained agents and super soldiers. You knew what he was capable of - you all saw it that day - but he never let it define him. It was a footnote in his character, undetectable until you read too closely. And he was as traumatised as the rest of you, if not more, but it was such a human trauma, more relatable and tangible, and it was something the two of you shared that made your bond just that little bit closer than with the others.

Your relationship with Bucky was a different story though. You had no history with your other teammates, so beside the run of the mill teasing and domestic debates that came with regular roommates, there was no animosity there. But Bucky on the other hand…

In all fairness, you had been created to kill him. You went through everything he did: the serum, the torture, the pain, but you didn't remember any of it. You remember the missions, you remember trying to eliminate him, you remember who you were before you were taken… but not the process you went through. The last thing you remember before was being shoved into a van, bag over your head, and the first thing after was waking up in a cell, all autonomy lost. Nothing more than a weapon. So while you had a mutual respect and admiration for each other, you had fought to the near death more times than you could count, and anger like that doesn't fade overnight. You had no malice towards him, obviously, but you could tell he harboured resentment for you, simmering quietly below the surface. What you couldn't tell was if it was because you tried to kill him so many times, or because they had the decency to wipe your memory of the pain you endured. And you knew from the screams that echoed through the wall of your adjoining bedrooms that it was a kind of pain that still brought him nightmares.

So usually, you humoured him. You went on every mission - publicity stunt or real. You sat through the interviews, the photoshoots, the promotional bullshit. You worked twice as hard as everybody else to get in his good graces, even though you didn't care about the publicity of it all. You were just happy to be doing good.

But you were burnt out. You had always had a darkness within you, one that snarled at the sidelines, waiting for your guard to drop. So, to a point, keeping busy kept it at bay. Until it didn't.

The last time you’d seen that darkness was two months ago in The Void. Reminding you it was still there, that it always would be. Bob had seen it too, when the blast of the incinerator knocked you out and his hand had knocked into yours. The memory that had emerged, tinged in the familiar greyscale, the colour that swirled around all of your bad days. The glimpse of the hospital gown, the monitors beeping, the nurses bustling around the room. The fear you had felt.

He’d asked you about that darkness soon after, how you dealt with it. You weren't sure how to tell him you didn't. Instead, you made sure he got out of the facility, that he was safe. And then, one thing led to another, and half of New York was a black void, swallowed whole. A Void that stemmed from him. A Void that you stepped into not knowing if you’d live or die. And it was there that you saw something new.

“You good?” Ava asked subtly as she finished suiting up, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you breathed the word automatically, running a hand through your hair in an attempt to hide the fact it was shaking. “Tired.”

“You look it.” She replied, soft smile playing across her lips before she placed the mask over her face.

“Thanks.” You responded, laughing dryly. It was how she showed affection - gentle teasing. “Good luck.” They all headed for the elevator, and you stepped back, pulling the arms of your sweatshirt down and over your hands.

“Bye guys!” Bob shouted from the kitchen over the sound of running water, and Yelena called back in kind.

And with that, they were gone.

You knew it would only be three days until they were back, but you could feel their absence immediately.

You couldn't quite tell if that was a good or bad thing.

You strolled into the kitchen, a yawn escaping from your throat. You were still wearing what you’d slept in - tattered black sweatshirt and joggers, hanging loose around your form. Bob was standing at the kitchen sink, washing the mugs and glasses the team had used this morning at breakfast. His clothes were similar to your own: light blue sweatshirt and grey sweats that had become his uniform at the compound. His hair was starting to get long, dyed back to his usual brown basically the minute you all moved into this place. He glanced back at you, smiling warmly as he switched the water off, placing the last cup on the drying rack. There was something about him that was so comforting, a quiet strength that emanated from him even when he was just standing there. Not a confidence, not by any means, his shyness endearing as it was. It was the strength of an oath. In every movement or lack thereof, every glance that met your eyes, he was showing solidarity, subtle and unbreakable. A promise that he wasn't going anywhere as long as you weren’t. It was a stability you weren't used to.

“Hey.” Your heart fluttered slightly at the tender way he said it, involuntary smile dancing across your lips, half-hearted as it was. He knew better than to ask if you were alright, the exhaustion and emptiness in your eyes familiar to him in both your memories and his own. “Anything you want to do while they’re gone?”

“I think I want to go back to bed for a bit.” You sounded so broken it surprised you, but if he noticed, he didn't show it. A soft, barely there laugh escaping his lips.

“Sounds like a good plan. D’ya want me to wake you at any point or just let you sleep?” Your heart hurt at his consideration.

“If I’m not up by midday just knock on the door. And wake me if you need anything.”

“You got it.” He called as you walked away, back to your room, and you wished you had the energy to stay. Having breakfast with him was a luxury you weren't often afforded. If only you had the energy to make the most of it.

You closed the door behind you, darkness filling the room instantly, blinds still drawn. You found the bed, collapsing in a heap. You were surprised how quickly you started to drift, the exhaustion catching up to you so fast, and after a few breaths, your vision faded.

A slap stung across your face, harsh and sobering. You staggered back with the force of it, blinking rapidly.

“Do better.” The man in front of you muttered, shaking out his hands and reassuming a fighting stance. You could taste blood in your mouth, but you did the same anyway.

What alarmed you most was that you didn't recognise him.

There was a mask covering half his face, but even his eyes didn't hold even a glint of familiarity. Before you had time to dwell on that though, his fist was moving towards you. You ducked, landing a neat blow to his side before rolling forwards, standing up behind him and planting a firm kick to the back of his knee. It took him by surprise, the joint buckling beneath the force, but as you rounded to kick him in the neck, he caught your ankle, pulling you forwards until you were essentially straddling his shoulder, leg still firmly in his vice-like grip. You raised your arm, trying to make the best of a bad situation by elbowing him in the head, but he was faster, slamming you to the floor. You were struggling for breath and scrabbling for purchase, trying to get back at him, but he was on top of you before you could even flinch, knees on your wrists, entire bodyweight locking you in place. The pain was biting, but the panic and fear was debilitating, any part of your body you could move thrashing around helplessly. He chuckled darkly, the tone of it making your blood run cold. He leant down, inches from your face, and you waited until he was close enough before jerking your head forwards. The crack you heard was satisfying, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“You bitch…” the man spat beneath the mask, pulling the fabric below his nose and letting the blood drip onto your face. “You’re lucky I’m under orders. There are worse things I can do than kill you when I have you like this…” Your heart stopped at the weight of his words, the implications not missing you. “But for now, you failed. And you know what that means…” You didn’t, but your body screamed anyway, a bloodcurdling noise rushing from your throat before you could stop it.

“Hey, hey it’s ok…” Strong hands were shaking you awake, and you flinched instinctively, pulling away and scrabbling backwards until you had pressed yourself into the headboard, tucking your limbs into your body to be as small as possible. “It’s me, it’s Bob. You’re ok.” You looked up, body stiff and sore, to see him gingerly perched on the edge of your bed, concern etched into his features. You slowly started to notice the rest of your surroundings. Your bed, completely dishevelled, sheets still twisted around your shins and ankles. Your face felt wet, and when you brought your hand up to your cheeks, there were tears there. You finally let out a breath, shaky, laughing to yourself in disbelief.

“Sorry, I…” You ran your hands through your hair, messy and tangled. “Was I…”

“Screaming a lot, yeah.” You took another shaky breath, stretching out your legs a little. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to meet his eyes, but you felt the bed move slightly as he shuffled closer. “Are you ok? You seem really… detached at the moment, like you have something in your mind. And not going on the mission, the nightmares…” You felt the tears welling up as he spoke, the weight of everything hitting you suddenly, and before you knew it, you were sobbing. Bob closed the gap in an instant, sighing your name gently as his arms wrapped around you. You welcomed him without even thinking, hands gripping his sweatshirt in fists, face pressed to his chest.

“It’s gonna be ok. I’ve got you…”

It took a long while for your breathing to slow, and as the tears finally stopped, you released your grip. You wanted to apologise, but the sound stuck in your throat. You wanted to explain, but the idea of even speaking that dream into existence made you want to cry again. So you just wiped your tears.

“Wanna talk?” He murmured, voice calm and soothing. You noticed he hadn’t completely let go of you, hand still resting lightly on your shoulder, the warmth radiating from it grounding you back to reality.

“No. I..” you swallowed back another sob, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry about all of this, Bob. It’s just..”

“You don’t need to apologise. It’s all good. We all have bad days, at least yours didn’t nearly wipe out half of New York.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his self-deprecating joke, a harsh expulsion of air that almost ended in a snort. You finally allowed yourself to look up at him, satisfied you wouldn’t start crying again, but you were met with his bright blue eyes scanning your face, full to the brim of worry. It made your heart lurch. You hadn’t seen him like this since you told him what had happened in his blackout that day, and now he was pulling the same face because you had a breakdown. Great, the screaming must have been really bad, then. Good thing you didn’t have neighbours.

“I’m ok, I’m good now. Thank you.” You choked the words out, barely believing them yourself. His eyes met yours again, and his scepticism was immediately evident.

“Bullshit. Just lay back down…” he started to shuffle back as he spoke, moving to stand. “I’ll go and make you a cup of tea and…”

“No.” You said it so fiercely it surprised you, fear clouding your mind. You took a breath, and softened your tone. “I mean, can you stay please? Just for a bit, until I get my breath back.”

“Of course.” His response was so fast it was almost automatic, shuffling back to the head of the bed and resting gingerly against the headboard. “As long as you need.” You curled back up next to him, close enough to feel his presence, but not quite touching. A silence fell across the room, but it was a peaceful silence, one born of comfort and familiarity.

“Thank you.” You breathed the words, as though to not break the calm.

“Always.” You squeezed your eyes closed, ignoring what you had just seen in your dream and instead, visualised him. You could hear his breaths, slow and shallow, as though he was afraid of spooking you. You pretended he wasn’t still worried, instead imagining the smile you knew all too well, the one that showed teeth and reached his eyes, the purest joy you had ever seen.

You were reminded of a night a few weeks ago, when you realised how few movies the rest of the team had seen.

“You’re telling me none of you have ever seen The Princess Bride?” Yelena shook her head, and Alexei chimed in.

“Nope. Never showed Lena that when she was little.” She groaned like an embarrassed teenager.

“Ok, we need to start a movie night at least weekly and educate all of you…” You said, a smile lighting up your face when Bob laughed beside you. “And let’s start with this…”

It was only twenty minutes in when Walker started complaining.

“But why is he saying ‘as you wish’ so much?”

“Guess we know why you’re divorced…” Ava snapped back, and everyone snorted at his expense.

“Separated, but whatever…” he muttered, put out, and you and Bob giggled. You were squeezed between him and Alexei on the sofa, and instinctively, you leant towards Bob as you laughed. His arm was on the back of the sofa, and without realising, you had leant into the crook of his arm. So you stayed there. As you continued to watch the film, as everyone else made dumb jokes and stupid comments, but nothing else was relevant to you but his proximity. His presence drowned everything out. And as you curled into his body, you could feel his heartbeat. Slow and steady. Stable. Him.

Everyone else went to bed as soon as the film finished. You moved away from him slightly as the lights came on, cautious of prying eyes, but he didn’t move. Arm of the back of the couch, eyes fixed only on you.

“Any other films you want to show me?” You grinned widely.

“A lot.”

You decided on the Goonies - your favourite film as a kid - figuring Bob wouldn’t have seen it when he was younger considering his home life. And you were right.

You felt a wave of nostalgia rush over you as you started the film. You sat back down on the couch, back up against the arm where Alexei had been sat, the seat still warm. You stretched your legs out into the space between you and where he sat facing forwards, his own legs on the coffee table. You didn’t want to move away from him really, but you wanted to see his reaction to the film, to see him watch something fun and childish for the first time, to see if it brought him as much joy as it brought you. And it did. He smiled more than you’d ever seen, and you were trying to be subtle about looking at him, but occasionally, you couldn’t help but gaze at him openly when you felt he was distracted enough. The line of his jaw, his dimples when he laughed, the curl of his hair that framed his face and was starting to fall into his eyes. His eyes, a deep, piercing blue that you could lose yourself in. That were looking right at you.

Oh shit.

You blushed, turning back to the movie, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“What is it?” He muttered, tone playful, and you glanced back, smiling shyly.

“Nothing, I… um…” he was holding eye contact with you, earnest expression on his face, and it was just making you blush more. You turned back to the screen. “It’s just really nice to see you happy. You know, after everything.” You cleared your throat slightly, awkward now.

“It’s thanks to you, really.” He sounded so sincere you could’ve cried.

“Oh, no I just put on a movie I used to like in the hopes that…”

“No.” He interrupted you softly. “Not just the movies. It’s everything. It’s the late night chats when we can’t sleep, it’s doing the dishes together while the team argue at the table, it’s making sure about 50 times before you leave for a mission that I’ll be ok on my own for a few days, and that I’ll text if I need you.” You forced yourself to look at him again, tearing up, but now he was the one looking away, features wrought with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “I mean, hell, according to the rest of the team you were the one who stepped into the Void for me not knowing if you’d even survive. You went into that hellhole, and from what I saw it can’t have been easy…” Oh. Your blood ran cold at the mere mention of it, muscles stiffening, and the tears that had started to fall from something akin to appreciation were now streaming in panic. Blood rushed between your ears, vision blurring, and his voice was swallowed into the pit that was your anxiety. A dark chamber. A voice telling you to bite down. Something tasting disgusting in your mouth. And then pain. So much pain.

“Hey, what’s happening?” He muttered, and you were back in the room, legs tucked to your chest, Bob’s concerned face scanning you from the other side of the couch. “Are you ok? Did I say something?”

“No, no, sorry Bob, I…” You wiped your tears, trying desperately to get your breath back, heart still racing. Your vulnerability took hold, head spinning as you tried to dispel the new memories. “I just… I remembered something when you mentioned the Void. I thought I’d buried it but apparently not.” You tried to laugh, but it came out slightly choked.

“I’m sorry, I..”

“Hey, no you’re fine. Thank you for saying that, it means a lot.” You smiled at him warmly, trying to convey how much his words had meant to you, but you weren’t sure how convincing it was, panic still coursing through you. “Do you want a drink? I really fancy a Diet Coke right now..” He paused, scanning your features for signs of distress but you put on your best brave face, and it seemed to do the trick. He sighed.

“Yeah sure, just a lemonade please if you don’t mind. If I have caffeine now I won’t sleep…”

You took a few seconds in the kitchen to compose yourself, before returning with the drinks, setting them on the coffee table. His attention was back on the film, smiling again, and you couldn’t help but feel bad. Your panic attack had ruined his beautiful sentiment, the kindest words ever spoken to you. You sat closer to him again, where you had been before, but crossing your legs on the sofa this time so your knee touched his just slightly. You couldn’t help but smile as his leg shuffled closer to yours, almost imperceptible, but you felt it. How could you not?

“Thank you.” You spoke it quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace. “I really do mean it.”

“I know.”

You were just over halfway done with the film when you felt your eyelids starting to droop. After your head rolled forwards a few times, drifting off, Bob spoke up.

“We can finish this tomorrow if you’re tired?” He was being genuine, but you knew from his intonation that he wanted to keep watching.

“No, no, I’m fine..” A lie, your words slurring ever so slightly with tiredness. “Let me just…” You sunk down further on the couch, tucking your legs up to your side and letting your head fall to his shoulder. “That’s better.”

“You’ll still fall forwards if you doze off again.” He muttered, tone imperceptible now, almost a forced calm. You took it for annoyance though, blushing as you realised what you’d just done.

“Oh sorry, I can lay that way and then…” You started to lift your head before he interrupted.

“No, no, just let me...” He shuffled forwards slightly so he was closer to being horizontal, opening his arm so you could lay comfortably on his chest. “There, that would be more comfortable in case you do fall asleep.”

“I won’t.” You muttered petulantly, lying in the space he had created for you anyway. He laughed, a warm, intoxicating sound that bloomed from his chest, and his arm rested on top of yours. It was comforting, a surety that made you feel drowsy again. Safe to sleep around him. Secure.

“Sure you won’t.”

You woke in the darkness of your room to find yourself curled into his body tightly, arm draped across his stomach and head resting on his chest. His arm was wrapped tightly around you, protective, warm hand splayed across your ribcage. The sound of his gentle snores brought you out of the memory, grateful that his presence allowed your subconscious to lull you to sleep with pleasant memories. That you didn’t need to be on edge, that you wouldn’t need to fight for a few hours at least. That he was holding onto you, and everything was going to be ok.

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ GUILTY AS SIN? | #CL16

pairing. charles leclerc x wolff!reader

genre. angst; some fluff

synopsis. days after you showed up in the paddock wearing charles' shirt, toto wolff is still not talking to you. it tears at you, him, and your relationship with charles. tired of living life scared you'll disappoint toto, you show up to the paddock holding charles' hand.

warnings. none; guest appearances from carlos and george

word count. 3.1k

note. this is the second part to ‘but daddy i love him’. this makes sense if you haven't read that, but reading the first part provides context for a lot of the things happening in this part. i want to write drabbles set in this universe, so if you have requests/ideas, please send them <3

MASTERLIST ; part one ; requests open

LOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY; loving Charles had—since the beginning of your relationship—been as easy as breathing. Until reality eventually caught up. The love you held for Charles had not become more difficult since that fateful moment when you walked onto the paddock draped in Charles’ jacket; everything around it had become more complicated—more difficult—ever since then.

Toto’s voice still rang in your ears; his voice lingered in your mind like an echo you couldn’t get rid of—“Can someone explain why my daughter is wearing Leclerc’s Ferrari jacket?”. You remembered freezing in your tracks, glancing over at Charles—who looked just as much a deer in headlights as you; then Toto’s narrowed eyes. The events which followed passed by in a blur; silence; you opening your mouth to explain; disappointment radiating off Toto; his silent—sharp—”I don’t want to hear it.”. That had been the end of it; Toto had stridden past you and disappeared into the Mercedes garage; Charles had gently placed a hand on your lower back and led you to the Ferrari motorhome, where he left you with a kiss to your forehead and a promise that everything would be okay.

George passed by—he stopped to chat for a few minutes before realising he was late to a strategy meeting and had to sprint across the paddock. Then Carlos walked by, he pulled out a chair opposite you—his navy Williams t-shirt contrasting against the bright red of the Ferrari motorhome—and sat down; he handed you snacks stolen from the Williams motorhome wrapped in a napkin—they were slid over the table as if they were contraband. 

“You know there’s snacks here, right?” You laughed, even though the laugh didn’t reach your eyes; Carlos noticed, he tilted his head, smiling at you.

“Yes, but they’re not as good, no?”

The former Ferrari, now Williams, driver nodded towards the snacks wrapped in a napkin sitting on the table in front of you, encouraging you to unwrap the snacks and eat one—you did. Inside the napkin was an assortment of grapes, chocolate, and cookies; you muttered a thank you to Carlos which he waved off, telling you that it was nothing. He sat there for a while, telling jokes; you tried to laugh at them, but the laughter never reached your eyes; it was all an act and Carlos could clearly tell.

“It’s going to be okay, you know. Toto might be pissed now, but we all know how much he adores you; he’ll accept it eventually.” Carlos’ voice was soft—comforting—as it reached your ears. You pressed your lips together, nodding solemnly.

“What if he doesn’t?” You didn’t want to admit it outloud, but the thought had pierced through every corner of your brain ever since that morning—ever since Toto had stormed off to the Mercedes garage with a “I don’t want to hear it”. Carlos stood up from his chair—he had to go to a meeting which was far less important than you—still, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Then maybe he is not who you thought he was.” 

That had been days ago. You hadn’t spoken to Toto since; it was strange not speaking to him. You had gone back to Vienna after the race; you’d walked by the café you’d gone to with Toto for years ever since you were old enough to ask the barista for a hot chocolate—”Ich hätte gern eine heiße Schokolade, bitte”. A peculiar feeling—longing, perhaps—coursed through your veins, settled deep in the very marrow of your bones, at the sight of the table you and Toto used to occupy being empty. Usually when you walked through this part of Vienna, it was to meet Toto at this café; he would always sit and wait when you walked in—books clutched in your arms—he’d meet you with a smile and a comment about how the books made you forget about life again—that was true sometimes, other times it was because Charles distracted you, made you forget that there was a world outside the bubble which only contained you and him. You never told Toto this; you’d smile at him and tell him that ja, papa, it was the books again. The memory felt faint; the more you tried to reach for it, the fainter it became until it was like a sun faded cassette tape someone had left out in the sun for too long.

You hadn’t seen Charles since the end of the race weekend. You went with Charles to celebrate Oscar’s Grand Prix win with the rest of the grid; your heart hammering in your chest—joy encapsulating you—as Charles wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, kissing you in front of everyone in the middle of the dance floor; he had stuck close to you the entire evening, just as you had stuck close to him––now you were in two different countries, miles separating you. You missed Charles’ presence—his laugh, his small touches. He suggested you come with him to Monaco after the race; you declined, worried that you would inevitably run into Toto there—”Chérie, you can come stay with me in Monaco.” he’d pleaded, almost begged, looking at you; you shook your head, watching as his eyes filled with tears, as his bottom lip wobbled. Walking through the Viennese streets, you regretted every action you had taken, every word spoken, during that exchange. You had spoken to Charles occasionally and briefly ever since; it was as though a chasm had opened between you—one that neither of you knew how to close. The last exchange you had was Charles asking if you were going to the next race—Monza—you’d told him no, claiming that you were buried under schoolwork—that had been a lie; you weren’t buried under schoolwork, you just didn’t want to go to the paddock; didn’t want to face the disappointment Toto’s entire being would exude the moment he laid eyes on you. If you went, you would—for the first time—go as a guest of Ferrari and not Mercedes; there was something bittersweet over it.

Charles waited outside your flat when you arrived back home; he gently pried the bags you were carrying from your hands—warmth bloomed where his fingertips made contact with your skin. He smiled softly at you, muttering a quick “hi”, which you returned; he shuffled into the flat after you, closing and locking the door behind him. His presence in your flat felt familiar—welcome. During the months of your (secret) relationship, Charles spent many days in this flat; playing the pianoforte you never knew why you had—you couldn’t play piano—putting away groceries; laughing; smiling; kissing you whenever he could. Before you could say anything, Charles had slipped out of his shoes; his humming fluttered through the air as he put the groceries away.

“Charles? What are you doing here?” At the sound of your voice, Charles looked up from the grocery bag he was digging through—one hand cradling a bag of flour. He paused, his eyes searching yours. He turned, opening the cabinet you kept your flour in before turning back to you and sighing; his hands flattening against the countertop.

“I wanted to see you. We’ve barely talked since the race and when we have talked, it has been brief. Mon ange, tell me what’s going on; we’re in this together.” Charles’ voice had grown steadily quieter as he spoke; you could only stare at him, blood coursing through your veins, your heart hammering in your chest. Charles took a step towards you, then another, then his arms wrapped around you—his scent surrounding you—one hand placed on your back, the other on the back of your head; pulling you into him. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. The tears flowed slowly at first; Charles didn’t speak, he just held you, waiting for you to speak, even though the feeling of your tears wetting his skin broke his heart—tugged painfully at strings attached to it. He wanted nothing more than for you to be happy.

“It’s papa. I love you, I do. I just feel like I’ve disappointed him.” You stumbled through the sentence, unsure of how to express your feelings, how to word them in a coherent—understandable—way. Charles understood; he knew you better than anyone—he would always understand what you were trying to tell him, even though it was veiled, slurred, or incomprehensible.

“You can’t live your entire life scared that you’ll disappoint him. He talks about you all the time when you’re not present; he’s so proud of you, of everything you’ve achieved. This—our relationship—shocked him, but he’ll come around eventually. He’s not unreasonable. I think the way he found out was jarring for him, unexpected. He’ll come around, chérie, I promise.” Echoes of Carlos’ words rang through your mind as you listened to Charles speak. You didn’t want him to be right, but he was—you couldn’t live life scared of disappointing Toto. Charles cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the remaining tears—his touch was soft, gentle, as it always was. You wanted desperately to believe him; your mind screamed at you to forget every worry you had bottled up since you started dating Charles. You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth—gnawing at it. The more you thought about it, the clearer it became that Charles was right; Toto would accept it eventually. He had no other choice.

“Where are you going?” Your voice was still shaky—raw—from crying. You vaguely gestured to the bags Charles had left in your entry. Charles, for a moment, glanced from you at his bags; his hands still cupped your cheeks, your bodies still pressed impossibly close together.

“The race. I just had to see you first, since you’re not coming.” Charles’ voice was tinged with hope—hope that you may change your mind and attend the race with him; there was no one he wanted there more than you. He often joked—as you laid beside him, his fingers drawing patterns on your skin—that you were his lucky charm; he insisted that he performed better whenever you were in the paddock. You weren’t sure you believed that claim. 

“Is it too late to go with you?” Charles’ eyes lit up, his lips widening into a smile as he shook his head, rambling in French—various combinations of “non, mon ange”, “il n'est pas trop tard”, and “j'adorerais t'avoir là”.

If anyone had asked you later what thoughts coursed through your mind as you agreed to go to the race with Charles, you wouldn’t have been able to give them an answer—the spur of the moment decision was inexplicable even to you; perhaps it had been the hope in Charles’ eyes, in his voice; or maybe it had been something else entirely—you were not sure. Charles pressed his lips against yours, pulling you closer. You led Charles down the same hallway he had walked through time and time again, pulling him into your bedroom. He stood by your bed—which he had been in more times than you could remember—putting items of clothing into your open suitcase as you handed it to him.

Standing outside the paddock gates, Charles entwined your fingers. This time—unlike the last—you wore your own clothes. Your heart hammered in your chest; Charles squeezed your hand, smiling softly at you. Whatever happened beyond the paddock gates, you would face together. The entire paddock stilled as you walked through the gates; Carlos smiled at you as he walked by; Charles pulled you closer to him as you made your way across the paddock.

Toto paused as he saw you and Charles walking hand-in-hand through the paddock, smiles plastered on both your faces; he sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temples. He pulled his lips into a thin line, greeting both you and Charles when he walked by you. You stopped, opening your mouth to say something; when no words formed, you closed it; your lips pulled up into a tight smile—Toto would recognise that smile anywhere, it was the same tight smile he wore when he had to be polite. He watched—from the Mercedes motorhome—as Charles kissed you— your forehead, your cheeks, your lips—before running off to a meeting. The day was littered with small, affectionate touches between you and Charles and conversations which left you beaming—smiling so brightly and so much that your muscles hurt.

“This went well?” You looked up at Charles, who had sat down beside you on the couch; he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“It did.” Doubt still gnawed at you; crawling up your throat, clenching around your heart. Toto’s greeting had been brief, but it had been more than you’d talked to him in a week. He looked tired; bags had appeared under his eyes; he looked older than he did the last time you saw him—this was clearly taking a toll on Toto too. Charles pulled you closer to him, slinging his arm around your shoulder; brushing a lock of hair away from your face—you smiled at him, kissing his cheek. You couldn’t help but look over at the Mercedes motorhome—Toto was nowhere to be seen. Charles noticed the glances you would—periodically—throw in that direction; he nudged you gently, his eyes filled with a softness he only held for you.

“What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

“I think I want to go talk to papa.” You gnawed at your bottom lip, your gaze fixed on the motorhome across the paddock.

“Go.” Charles gently urged you. He could see—he had seen, this past week—how much this argument—which wasn’t really an argument—tore at you, threatening to rip you apart. You and Toto had always been close—Charles had discovered this on numerous occasions, from how you talked about your childhood with Toto to how you told him you couldn’t go on a date with him once because you had your monthly coffee date with Toto.

You left the Ferrari motorhome headed for the Mercedes motorhome. Stepping through the sliding doors, you saw George sitting in the cafeteria alone; he looked up as the doors slid open. A smile spread across his lips at the sight of you.

“Welcome back, you here to see Toto?” You swallowed thickly, nodding. George smiled, pointing in the general direction of Toto’s office, “Last I saw him, he was in his office. Good luck!” You shook your head, scoffing at him, muttering something about how you didn’t need luck to speak to Toto; that was a lie—you needed all the luck you could get.

Toto’s head shot up when the door to his office opened; the last person he expected to see stood on the other side of it—one hand clutched the door handle, only letting go when Toto gestured for you to come inside. He closed his computer, folding his hands on top of it.

“Schatz.”

“Hi, papa.” You sank down in a chair opposite Toto’s desk, his eyes followed your every move. On your way over, you had planned exactly what you wanted to say, but as you sat in Toto’s office—Toto sitting opposite you—your mouth dried, every word you had prepared disappearing into thin air; you had never felt like this with Toto—you had always been able to tell him whatever was on your mind. It was a strange feeling; one you didn’t revel in. Toto patiently waited for you to speak—he had a meeting, but you were far more important than the meeting; the meeting could be rescheduled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Charles; I just didn’t know how to. I should’ve told you. I’ve thought a bit since then, and it wasn’t fair to you to find out the way you did.” Toto listened intently to every word pouring from your lips, “I love Charles, I’m not going to apologise for that. Charles is one of the nicest, kindest, people I’ve met and he treats me so well. You don’t have to like it, I’m not asking you to, you just have to accept it and stop being upset with me for, what, falling in love?” Your heart hammered in your chest, sweat beading on your forehead, your hands grew clammy; you tried to wipe them on your jeans, but it did nothing. Toto sighed softly.

“I’m not mad at you for falling in love; I’m upset you didn’t trust me enough to tell me, schatz. I’m upset I had to find out from you walking into the paddock in Leclerc’s shirt.” He looked at you for a moment, before glancing out the window; the Ferrari motorhome was clearly visible from where he was sitting, “I see how happy he makes you; how happy you are when you are with him. He’s one of the better drivers you could have chosen.” He laughed softly, his mouth quirking up into a smile, his crows feet appearing around his eyes. At the sound of Toto’s laughter, you couldn’t help the giggle that burst from your lips. You stood from your chair at the same moment Toto did; he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry, papa.” You mumbled into the white button-up he always wore to race weekends.

“It’s okay. Tell that Leclerc kid that if he hurts you, he’ll have to deal with me.”

It was with much lighter steps that you walked back to the Ferrari motorhome. You found Charles exactly where you had left him—sitting on the couch—only this time, he was playing some game on his phone. He looked up when he heard steps; a smile etched itself across his face, his eyes filling with joy, at the sight of you; he—immediately—noticed a lightness in your steps, one that he had dearly missed. He stood up to meet you halfway—in full view of the Mercedes motorhome—you wrapped your arms around him; Charles had to take a step back to stop from stumbling from the force with which you hugged him.

“How did it go?” He could feel your smile—the smile which he loved so much; which he would do anything to see—break out across your face.

“It went well. I apologised and he said he was never upset at the idea of us dating; he was just upset because of how he found out.” You had to stop, a giggle forced its way up your throat, “he said that if you ever hurt me, you’d have to deal with him.”

Charles groaned, dropping his face in the crook of your neck. You threw your head back, laughter bursting from you at Charles’ ticklish kisses pressed to your neck.

“Good thing I’m not planning on hurting you, then.”

[chanandlersstuff]

Sunshine and Loverboy

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.639

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and emotions and lots of feelings.

Author’s note: Hiii, thanks a lot for the love I've been reciving for the series and the nice messages.

It's been a while, but not that long, time it to perfection to be a month.

I hope this is what you wanted to read after the last part, after the rough path between them. And I want to say that I would gladly made them suffer more, but I didn't want you all to hate me so I fast forward right to the part we all wanted.

With that being said, enjoy, there's more to come about those two and I hope you enjoy it. Lots of love, ME.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

← Previous part

May 2022. This is what you came for.

Months had passed. Quiet ones. Months of polite distance, of sterile texts. A "Happy Holidays" here, a “Congrats on the trailer drop” there. Nothing like what it used to be. Nothing close to warmth.

They’d both thought the time apart might heal things. Soften the edges. Drown the ache. Maybe time would do what neither of them could, make it easier to let go.

But the second they saw each other again, it all came crashing back. The longing, the weight of everything unsaid, the quiet ache blooming behind their ribs like something alive.

For Hayden, it was like the sun had finally broken through months of grey skies, like something inside him, something starved, was finally warm again, like something in his chest uncoiled all at once, then immediately twisted again, tighter than before.

For her, it was like remembering how to breathe and hating herself for how much she missed it. Her heart slammed against her chest like it wanted to break free, like it wanted to jump out her chest and run to the person who it belonged to.

They saw each other across a sea of people. Publicists, fans, cameras, executives, handlers, stylists, all of them blurring into white noise.

Hayden stood still, rooted to the floor in his black tailored jacket, hands stopped mid air, eyes only on her. Like the room had tilted. Like the lights and sounds and flashes had vanished and the noise disappeared.

It was just her.

She walked slowly, trying not to rush. She had no right to, not after the silence, not after that night. But her body betrayed her, it always did around him. Her smile faltered for the first time that day.

God, he looks good.

Hair swept back, eyes lit from within, the curve of a smile he was trying hard to hide. Not perfect. Just…Hayden.

People moved between them. Camera crews. Assistants. Disney PR. She gave a practiced smile. He nodded to someone saying his name. 

But they were walking towards the other, slowly, tentatively. One moment there they were, the other they were close. Too close.

She looked up, timid and unsure, the way she had the very first time they met in person, like she was bracing for impact, and Hayden’s body was moving before his brain could catch up. Stepping forward and hugging her.

Not a staged hug. Not a half-press of bodies for the sake of polite industry affection. No, his arms wrapped around her like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it again.

She froze for a second, caught off guard. Her breath hitched, but then her body remembered too. Quickly easing in his arms, inhaling deeply so he could invade all her senses, her hands gently curled at his back softly.

But the hug was over far too fast, ripped away by reality. By flashes. By movement. By all the eyes watching. 

They stepped back and it was like it never happened. But it did. It so fucking did.

His heart was still racing. Her perfume clung to the fabric of his jacket.

She looked at him, blinking the daze out of her eyes, a hand still hovering like it didn’t know where to fall.

Hayden found his voice first. Croaky. Thin. Meaning every word.

“You look good.”

God, you look incredible.

She smiled, small, timid, but he knew it was a real one. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “So do you.”

Because he never didn’t look good.

She wanted to say more and he wanted to hold her again, but then a handler’s voice cut through the moment. He was needed for a press stop while she was needed for photos, which put a slight look on her face, which was quickly gone, but he noticed. 

And just like that, they were being pulled apart again. Looking over their shoulders briefly before they were gone. 

Back into the crowd, back into orbit, apart, once again, and God, it hurt more than before.

Because even after all this time, touching her still felt like home and letting her go still felt like hell.

Along the day, they were ushered here and there, photo lines, interviews, press booths. They barely had time to breathe, let alone talk and maybe that was a mercy because they wouldn't have known where to start.

They kept looking just past the other, like they were pretending, like it didn’t ache. But the tension grew. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, her pulse skipped. Every time he heard her laugh from across the room, he looked without meaning to.

They were orbiting again. Two moons caught in the same gravity, doomed to circle without ever colliding. Close, but never quite touching. 

When she found a second to breathe, a moment of peace, she slipped into the panel crowd, as if she was just another fan. Because before she was a director, she was a fan.

She texted Ewan as she found a spot at the side of the crowd, watching as the room swelled with anticipation.

Just bumped into the cutest looking boy dressed as you Might’ve found my favorite Obi-Wan

You’re in the panel?

Yeah

Don’t get lost in the crowd We need you

You’re going to do fine You’re more used to the reflector than me

I'll be fine Your lover boy on the other hand…

He's going to be fine too The people love him He just has to believe it

You love him too?

You’re about to be presented Good luck

You didn’t answer, so I’m taking that as a yes

She didn’t reply, just stared at the stage as the lights dimmed and the host’s voice boomed through the space, echoes of excitement curling in the air.

Minutes after, with a great song in the background, the pair walked in sync to the big couch in the middle of the stage and, as the fan girl she was, she cheered and applauded for them. It took five solid minutes for the crowd to stop making noise, encouraged by the older of the pair of course while he looked around.

She watched Hayden in all his glory. The shy smile on his lips, how he waved to the crowd with that unsure, sweet energy that only made them scream louder, the way he manspread with those legs long, one hand casually on his knee, his hair was swept behind his ears. He was mesmerising to her eyes, he always had been and always will be. The black suited him perfectly. 

Hayden was trying not to look nervous, but she knew him. Too well.

The typical questions were asked, how it felt to come back, how it was feeling to be back, how excited they were to be there. Normal, routine questions. The interviewer asked him a question, but he praised the crowd, making them go wild again. While the crowd died down he looked among the ground, her cheer was the one that was heard, and she almost passed out from embarrassment, but it was like they had some kind of pull towards the other because the second she opened her eyes big, he found her and an immense smile plastered across his face, unfiltered, real.

They called his name but he kept watching her way.  He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to, not for a second. Even in a room full of adoration, it was her he looked for. Her he wanted to impress. Her approval he still needed like oxygen.

The flashbulbs didn’t bother him. Only her silence did numbers on him.

He was seated in the middle of the stage, people calling his name, but he could feel her. A whole sea of people between them, and he felt her. Always.

It took a little nudge from his friend and the interviewer calling his name again to take him back to the present. “I’m sorry what?” Hayden said with a smile.

The crowd and the interview laughed and his friend took the chance to lean in and whispered something to his ear. “I take by the look on your face that you found her, lover boy.” Ewan leant back on his seat and enjoyed how his friend rolled his eyes but a blushed appeared in his cheeks.

The interview went back to normal, back and forth with question and answers and the crowd shouting how much they loved them, they laughed and smiled the whole time. While he wasn’t answering questions, and Ewan was, Hayden kept glancing to where she was and then looked around, to not be too obvious, like he was afraid he might get caught wanting her.

“You know, I had to bridge a gap between my last work as Obi-Wan and then Alec Guinness in the New Hope and we just sort of brainstormed what we thought about it. The film was going to be a movie at one point and it turned into a series. Thank God Miss Director became our director because she's splendid.” The people cheered and she smiled, not only at the nickname but at the kind words. “My god she's so good, she's so talented and because she directed all of the episodes it's got her singular vision throughout.” The praise of Ewan, an actor with so much experience in his career, someone who she admired, made her blushed and smile like crazy. “And yeah, you'll see where he's at,” he finished with a cheeky smile.

“And Hayden, how about you?” The interviewer looked at him. “I mean obviously you are, you were, playing Anakin and now you're kind of playing Vader and so, how are we seeing these changes happen? What are we seeing from Anakin now or are we seeing Vader?” They all were excited for the answer.

Hayden sat straight and smiled. “That's what makes this character so compelling, that duality, that inner conflict of self-identity.” The crowd cheered. “It's just been such a thrill to get to come back and continue my journey with the character and to get to explore Darth Vader at this point in the timeline has been huge.” They applauded. “But more than that, it’s been a gift to do it under the guidance of someone so capable.” He paused and looked her way again, but this time, he didn’t look away. “Ewan said, Miss Director, as we like to call her…” His smile softened, sincerity bleeding into every word. “She’s incredibly, the best out there. She’s so intelligent and cool and creative.” 

Hearing those words from his lips made her blushed like a teenage girl all over again. 

“She did an amazing job showing these characters at their best. For the fans. For all of us.” The people cheered again and he nodded. “Let’s get an applause for her, she’s amazing,” Hayden said. 

And before anyone could react, he started clapping. Loud. First. Proud. Ewan joined in, then the rest of the stage, then the room, making her freeze in her stop. 

A sea of people cheering, clapping, and yet, he was watching her. And she was watching him too, because she always did.

The press photos were chaos in slow motion, shouts from photographers layered over one another like crashing waves.

“This way, Ewan!” “Hayden, eyes to your left!” “Miss Director, chin up, beautiful!”

Flash. 

Flash. 

Flash.

They were all lined up, grinning like professionals, rotating in and out of different formations, cast group shots, duo shots, solo poses. Everyone playing their part in the well-oiled, red-carpet machine.

And she? She was luminous in the storm, blinding. To the point Hayden could barely breathe. Staring like a young boy, breath snagging behind his ribs.

How is her face not plastered across every screen in the world? How are there not statues built in her image? How has the world not fallen in love with her already?

She looked like she belonged in another dimension entirely. Her suit was plum-purple, almost like the stains she had on her lips on new years, that kissed every curve like it was made just for her. Her heels gave her just enough height to command the space as she moved with subtle confidence, and her silver jewelry sparkled each time she moved under the lights. She was elegant and slightly fidgety in a way only he would notice. She looked like a star who didn’t know she was one. Like something that shouldn’t be real, and yet… here she was.

And the scent. That jasmine warmth that he had memorized since meeting her. It hit him again as she walked past, brushing just close enough that he could feel the hem of her suit against his leg.

God, she was mesmerizing.

Hayden watched her from the opposite end of the lineup, his own face calm and composed for the cameras, but his eyes kept drifting. Even when it wasn’t his turn, even when he should’ve been adjusting his stance, he looked at her.

She looked like a goddess and she didn’t even know it.

And now everyone else would see it too. Everyone else would know what he’d always known. She was splendid. She was brilliant.

Maybe that was how it should be. Maybe he should’ve always been just a witness to her becoming. Still, he missed being part of it.

She laughed, genuine and sudden, and his eyes snapped to her without thinking. Ewan had said something to her. He didn’t know what, he couldn’t hear it over the noise and shutter clicks, but her head tipped back with laughter, hand instinctively brushing Ewan’s arm as she leaned in, her face lit up.

His chest clenched, not with jealousy, but with envy, sharp and cold and familiar. Because once, it would’ve been him.

It should have been me.

Once, he would’ve been the reason she laughed through her nerves. Once, she would’ve leaned into his space like that. Once, she would’ve nudged his side with her elbow. Once, she would’ve looked to him for safety in the chaos. Once, it would’ve been his name that calmed her heart.

But now? Now he just kept stealing glances and swallowing the ache down. Now she stood three people away, and every inch felt like an entire universe. But God, he missed being the one she looked at when she laughed.

How on God’s green Earth you let the center of your universe slip just far enough that you couldn’t reach her?

“Can we get one of Hayden and Miss Director together, please?” a photographer called out, cutting through the noise.

The whole world paused and his stomach twisted.

He would’ve declined, gently, if she hesitated, if she so much as flinched. But she didn’t, instead a smile appeared on her lips. That small, tired, quiet smile, the one she gave when she’d already felt too much that day and was still standing.

She walked toward him, unhurried. Graceful. Controlled and he met her halfway. When their eyes met in the middle, everything went still. 

The lights, the cameras, the shouting voices, all of it dissolved into a low hum in the back of his mind, drowned out by the roar of his pulse. Everything in him leaned toward her without moving. Every cell of his body reached.

As soon as her hand found his back, gently, his lungs stopped working, his body stilled, like even breathing might ruin it. Just by a simple touch, steadying, familiar, touch.

For months, he’d only remembered the feel of her touch in memories. Ghosts of her touch. The phantom sensation of her closeness. Now, here she was. Real. Near. And he could barely take it. His body shuddered with restraint.

Her touch seared right through the fabric, right into his skin, right into the ache he’d been carrying since the last time he hugged her, all the way back to September.

He had to physically stop himself from looking at her the whole time, from turning into her the way he used to, like a planet caught in her pull. He looked forward, like he was supposed to, pose, smile, look composed professional and separate, but his jaw was tight from the effort, molars hurting.

Every part of him wanted to turn into her, to lean in, to surrender at her mercy, and the flesh was weak, so he looked at her. Because he couldn’t not and it wrecked him.

The makeup was soft and flattering, but it was her eyes that did the most damage, sparkling, alive, present. And, God those lips. Parted ever so slightly, the corner twitching with nerves or humor or both. They were the kind of soft that invited sin. The kind that made him forget every vow of distance, every plan to hold back. Hayden almost crumbled at her feets. 

His body screamed to lean in and kiss her. To close the space that never should have existed between them.

God, he wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. Because this, she, was gravity and he’d been floating, lost, for far too long.

He wanted to bury his hands in her hair and taste every month he’d spent without her. He wanted to tell her that every reason he’d had in July, every wall he’d built, felt just a little less solid now.

But he didn’t have the right.

He could have kissed her then. But he didn’t. He could have chosen her. But he pulled away.   He could have kept choosing her. But he was a coward.

Even if he still believed it was the right choice, believed it had protected her, protected them both. Standing next to her, her hand on his back, his name being shouted by strangers, he wasn’t so sure anymore. All reasoning shook, it shook hard. And in its place, in its cracks, bloomed something else: Regret. Bone-deep, breath-stealing, regret. Because he still ached in every place she had once loved him and he still loved her in every place that could not speak it aloud.

Then he noticed it, the tiny tells of her anxiety.

The way her fingers curled slightly against his blazer. The way her shoulders looked perfect to everyone else but were just a little too tight. The way she held her smile like it was painted on.

So he leaned in, subtly, and his hand lifted slowly, gently, brushing across her back in a barely-there caress, meant only for her.

His voice was low, only for her ears. “Just breathe and smile,” he said, tenderly, every syllable feather-soft. “You’re a natural. Everyone here loves you.”

She looked at him, just a flick of her gaze, but it was enough.

“You got this, Bubble,” he reassured her.

The nickname fell from his lips like it had been waiting there the whole time. Like it had been sitting just behind his teeth for months, desperate for permission to breathe.

It was effortless. Natural. Home. A real one. And she smiled, looking at him and Hayden did too, making the cameras click for a few seconds before they looked up to the front.

He was almost certain it was the only photo from the entire day where his smile touched his eyes. Born from her touch. Her warmth. Her nearness.

Because of her. Always because of her.

And as the flashbulbs went off, as they stepped away with professionalism still wrapped around them like armor, he wondered if she could feel it too—that unspoken thing lingering in the space between their hands.

That thing that still lived. That never stopped living.

Backstage was a hive of movement, headsets crackling, clipboards flipping, assistants whispering frantic directions, stage lights flickered behind curtains, the final checks were happening. The crowd outside was already thunderous, laughter, cheers, the sound of anticipation about to break, the bass from the stage thumping low against the concrete beneath their feet.

She stood near the back wall, near the emergency exit light, which she was about to use to escape, hidden from the bustle, just far enough from everyone to look like she needed space. Not close enough for anyone to really see her.

But he saw her.

Hayden had been looking over his shoulder every few seconds, completely ignoring what one of the cast was saying, eyes glue to her.

Because he knew.

Knew from the way her hand gripped her own arm like a lifeline, from the way her eyes stared out at nothing, from the way she bit down on her bottom lip, too hard, too long. Panic. The familiar threat of it. Coursing under her skin like a storm waiting to break.

He didn’t think, nor ask and just walked up, quiet and slow, and stopped a breath away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

He stepped in a little closer, cautious, like approaching a skittish bird. “You with me?”

She gave the smallest nod, fragile, like it took everything she had.

“I can’t breathe,” she admitted. The whisper of it cracked something in his chest. “I can’t—I don’t think I can do this.”

His chest ached. “Okay,” he said, voice a thread. “Okay. Just look at me, alright?”

He didn’t say “you’ll be fine” or “you always pull through”, because this wasn’t about reassurance. It was about holding her there, right in that breath, and keeping her grounded.

So he stepped closer and her eyes lifted, wide and shiny, fragile. And he stood in front of her, not blocking, but shielding. Like a wall. Like a harbor. Like a man who would keep the rest of the world at bay if it meant she could breathe.

With his 6’0” frame towering over her, broad shoulders cutting her off from the crowd behind them, he dipped his head until they were eye level. Until the world shrank to just the two of them.

And reached for her hands without hesitation, took them in his like they belonged there. His thumbs brushed gently over her knuckles.

“Just here,” he whispered. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

Her icy fingers tightened around his warm ones. It was too soft, too much, but it was also all she had.

She blinked up at him then, eyes glassy with panic, lips parted in the way they always were when she was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Just breathe, alright? Just with me.”

She inhaled, shaky. Then again.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “I don’t—I’m not—”

He knew the words before she said them, because he knew the script. Impostor syndrome was a familiar ghost. But it had no place in her.

So he brought one hand up to her cheek, warm hand to her cold skin, and tilted her face gently upward, brushing the edge of her jaw with his thumb, just enough to catch her eyes. His other brought her trembling hand to his chest, right over his heart, and pressed it there, warm and solid beneath her palm, grounding her.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and his voice cracked, just a little. “Don’t say you’re not supposed to be here. You made this. All of this.”

She looked like she might break, so he stepped in closer, closer than he should have. Close enough that her forehead could rest against his chest if she leaned forward even an inch.

His heartbeat was so steady, grounding, strong enough to borrow, and her forehead slowly leaned forward and rested her forehead just below his collarbone, eyes fluttering closed.

And he couldn’t not hold her, so he did. She hadn’t realized how close she was to falling apart until he wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her gently against him, securely. As if he’d done it a thousand times, because he had, because this was muscle memory. Because this was them and she let herself be folded into him like a breath finding its place again.

He tucked her gently beneath his chin, letting her rest against the warmth of him, his taller frame folding around her protectively. Hayden pressed her into him with just the right amount of pressure, not too tight, not too loose. Just right. Just enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

She melted into his hold, like her body knew exactly where it belonged. Her breath started to even out. The noise outside faded into background static. Her heart beat slower. His scent calmed every frantic nerve.

Leaning down just enough to the point his lips brushed against her temple, his hand came up, slowly, reverently, to stroke through her hair, soft and steady. The way you touch something sacred.

“Remember what I told you the first time we met in person?” he asked, voice a whisper only she could hear, wrapped in warmth and memory.

She shook her head against his chest.

He smiled, barely. “I told you… If they chose you to be here, it’s because you’re the best.”

Hayden pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand now on the side of her neck, thumb brushing lightly under her jaw. His eyes cathing how her lower lip quivered, her eyes glossy.

“It’s true,” he said again, firmer this time. “So don’t let your head play games with you.”

Her chin dropped as she nodded, and a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

And Hayden, God, he wanted to wipe it away with his hands, to brush it aside with his lips, with his soul, with every part of himself he’d been keeping quiet for months. He wanted to hold her face, kiss the panic out of her skin, give her peace in a way only he ever could.

But he didn’t and instead just held her closer, anchored her there to him.

“Just breathe with me,” he murmured, low and gentle. A prayer. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

And so they did.

Inhale. Exhale.   Together.

Her forehead rested against his chest for the briefest second, her hand still over his heart, his arm still anchoring in place. Their chests rising and falling in sync. The rest of the world kept moving, but they didn’t. They stayed.

It was torture and home at the same time.

“You’re not alone,”  he whispered into the space between them, just for her. “Not tonight.”

Not ever.

She smiled, barely. Broken but grateful. “You always say the right thing,” she said, the words catching in her throat.

“I don’t.” His lips curved, eyes lowering, heavy with everything he never said. “Not usually.”  Not with you. “But I know you and that helps.”

She let out a soft breath of a laugh, shaky but real. Because yes, he did. Better than anyone ever had.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. Eyes searching every inch of her face like it was the last time he’d be allowed to memorize her.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But the right words still lived somewhere between his throat and his chest, and neither would give them up. So they stayed there, stuck and heavy.

A call came from the stage crew, they were about to be introduced and the curtain was about to be lifted.

She pulled back gently, smoothing her jacket with a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

And he nodded, jaw tight. “Anytime you need me.”

Then she gave him a small smile, tight, brave, and walked past him, her perfume trailing behind like the memory of a dream he never got to finish and he stared after her, fists clenched at his sides.

They couldn’t keep doing this. They wouldn’t. Not after tonight.

They still hadn’t really spoken, but it wasn’t necessary because their silence had learned to carry volumes.

All day they had been pushed and pulled, spun like planets around a dying star, and still, the second they laid eyes on each other again, they remembered everything. Every laugh. Every almost. Every smile. The goodbyes.  And it was still too much.

And the tension? The ache? It hadn’t faded with time, it had evolved, becoming something deeper, quieter, unshakable.

The road was quiet, almost eerily so after the storm of energy that had been the convention. The soft hum of the highway filled the silence around him, headlights stretching into the dark as Anaheim faded behind him. 

His shirt had the first couple of buttons undone, sleeves folded almost to his elbows, suit jacket thrown in the passenger seat, and one arm resting on the door. 

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving only the low ache of exhaustion mixed with the buzz from earlier in his bones. His mind was elsewhere, like usually lately, and a constant hum in his chest that had started since he saw her again.

His phone rang once, a smile appeared on his lips as soon as he saw the name of the caller and pressed the button on the dash. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Her voice was bright and sweet, like it always was.

It always made something in him settle, no matter how loud his world got. No matter how heavy.

“Did you talk about the show today?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We had a big panel. Lots of people. A lot.”

“Did you wear that dark shirt you look cool in?”

“I did,” he laughed. “You always know what I’m wearing, huh?”

“Because I know you,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. “And I saw the panel on Youtube.”

“Did you now?”

She hummed. “They were so loud, when you and Ewan walked out” she commented. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

“And they screamed and clapped so loud when you talked about Bubble too,” she sounded happy. 

He smiled, chest aching in the best way.

“You looked like a total nerd in love, daddy.”

Hayden’s hand tightened on the wheel. “Did I now?”

“You did.” She giggled. “Everyone in the comments said you were ‘down bad.’ I didn’t know what that meant, but I do now.”

He grinned. “I’m gonna have to talk to your mom about your internet access.”

“Too late.” She said it like a challenge, then softened. “Did she look pretty?”

His smile softened too. “More than pretty.”

“Did you say that?”

“No,” he admitted, voice small now. “Not with those words.”

“Why not?”

And there it was, that tiny dagger of truth.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I guess I got scared.”

“Of what?”

He blinked. “It’s not that simple, bug.”

“Why not?” Her voice tilted up. “Do you love her?”

The words hit harder than expected, not because they were new, but because they were true.

He exhaled. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”

There was a long pause on the other end. He could hear her thinking.

“Like…movie love?” she asked, and he could hear her climbing into bed on the other side of the phone. “Like when the boy looks at the girl and knows he wants to be in her movie forever?”

He smiled, painfully. “Yeah. Just like that.”

There was a rustling of sheets.

Then, soft and serious: “Then why haven’t you told her yet?”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain fear and timing and guilt and almosts.

“I think you should tell her,” Briar said firmly. “Because if you love her like that, and you don’t say it, then… she won’t know she’s in your story.”

He blinked up at the ceiling.

“And I was watching Anastasia again today,” she added, her voice dreamy now, “and remember how Dimitri gave her the music box and said he didn't know he was in love with her until he wasn’t with her anymore?”

He smiled, heart squeezing. “I remember.”

“And he almost let her go,” she whispered, “but then he didn’t.”

Hayden swallowed hard.

“You’re my brave Daddy, right?”

He cleared his throat. “Right.”

“Then don’t be like the boys who are scared. Be like Dimitri. Say it. Or else you’re gonna be sad. And I don’t want that.”

He sat in silence for a moment, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want that either,” he said.

“You love her,” she said again, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “So go tell her.”

And suddenly, everything settled.

It was a truth settled into him like a stone finding its place at the bottom of a lake. Because she was right.

Not that he didn’t know he loved her, because he had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, from the voice that mattered most in his world… it struck him differently. 

It solidified the truth. 

Now it was clear. Solid. Unshakeable.

He loved her. Loved her and he had to tell her with honesty, with himself, with every truth he’d held back since July. He had to tell her, not next time, not if it comes up. 

Hayde you have to tell her now. 

Because she deserved to know she was his story, she’d always been. And maybe… maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay what?” she asked sleepily.

“I’ll tell her.”

A pause.

Then her quiet little voice again, already half-asleep: “Good. You always sound happier when she’s around.”

It’s been a long time coming. 

The street was quiet. That kind of quiet that only lived between midnight and dawn, where even the wind seemed to whisper.

Hayden parked outside her house, headlights dimmed. The dashboard lights glowed soft orange, casting shadows across his face. The dash clock blinked back at him, the numbers meaningless, his breath fogging faint against the window. He sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel like it might anchor him.

His chest was tight. Breath shallow. A wild, restless energy alive in every inch of him.

What are you doing, Hayden?

He stared at the house. At her house. Lights still on inside, a flicker of warmth behind the curtains. Her world. Her quiet. It looked warm inside, safe. It looked like her.

He closed his eyes. Briar’s voice still echoed in his chest like gospel. “You love her, so go tell her.” 

He could have waited for the “right time”, but having her in his arms again at the convention had opened the floodgates, and he couldn’t live behind the dam anymore.

He couldn’t go another night pretending he was fine, because holding it in hurt more than the fear of being turned away. He’d already wasted enough time.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, shoving the door open.

The night air hit him like a wave, cold, honest as he walked up the front steps, heart hammering like it wanted to tear through his ribs. Like if he didn’t knock right now, he’d stay lost in the almost.

He knocked. Once. Twice. And then the door opened.

She stood there, hair down, wrapped in a worn hoodie, barefoot on the wooden floor, glasses sliding down her nose. And still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Hi,” he breathed.

Her brows furrowed, surprised. “Hayden?”

His name in her mouth was soft. Questioning. A little stunned.

“I know,” he said quickly, hands up like he might stop her from closing the door. “I know. It’s late. I’m sorry, I just—”

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her tired eyes. The way she held the door with one hand, like she wasn’t sure if she should let him in.

So he stood in the glow of her porch light and let it spill.

“I was an idiot,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve been an idiot. Since July. Maybe longer. I’ve been walking around pretending I’m okay, that I made the right call. But I didn’t. I’ve been so, madly, in love with you, and I didn’t say it. I let you walk away from me with a broken heart.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just breathed.

He kept going.

“I meant what I said back then. About the risk. About wanting to protect you. But I should’ve told you the rest. The part where I—” he swallowed, rough and sharp, “—I wake up thinking about you. All the time.”

His voice dropped, like he was afraid of how big the truth felt, but he ached with it.

“Where your laugh is one of my favorite sounds. Where every time I see jasmines I think of you. Where I want to know what you think about my outfits because you are one of the most stylish person I know.”

Her eyes softened, just a little. And it kept pouring out.

“Where breakfast with you is one of my favorite moments and I want them with you, every day. Where I want to stay up until four in the morning watching musicals with you, even though I’ll complain and secretly love every minute. I want to kiss you in the morning, and fight over what coffee brand to buy. I want all of it. I want everything with you.”

He stepped closer, just enough for the light from inside to touch his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything. For being a coward. For hurting you. For not choosing you when I should’ve.”

A pause. A breath.

He let his hands fall to his sides, itching to touch her, completely open, completely bare.

“I didn’t plan this,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect you. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it anymore.”

He looked at her, eyes burning, and stepped forward. One more inch. One more heartbeat closer.

“I think about you. Constantly.”

A moment of silence. Then he breathed, like it might be his last chance.

“Maybe it’s late. Maybe I missed my moment. But I’m here now. I’m not afraid. I’m just—”

He gave a quiet, broken laugh. Shook his head.

“I’m just a man, standing in front of the woman he loves, asking if there’s still a chance.” His voice came out all raw and wrecked.

She stared at him and he thought maybe his heart would stop from the weight of it all.

Her lips parted. Her chest rose. But no words came.

“I know I hurt you,” Hayden whispered, every word cracking under the weight of it. “I know I did. But I had to say it, because if I loved you less… I might be able to talk about it more.”

Her eyes shimmered in the porchlight. The night bent around them like the first verse of a love song that had taken too long to write. There he stood, on her porch, his heart in her hands, chest crack open, waiting, hoping

And she… folded her arms, leaning in the doorway, she tilted her head, full of grace. The quiet stretched between them, tight as thread.

“Can I talk now?”

Hayden’s chest nearly caved in. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost afraid to move.

And that was all she needed to let it bleed.

Not a scream, not anger, just truth, cutting, clean, honest. The kind of truth that struck like lightning and still tasted like honey.

“You broke my heart, Hayden,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You shattered it. And not all at once. Not loudly. You did it slowly. Quietly. With every look you didn’t give me, with every word you didn’t say, with every time you chose fear over me, with every time you said half the truth and left the rest buried in your chest.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t speak because she needed to say this. He needed her to say it.

“But the worst part?” she said, taking a step closer, voice trembling with the kind of love that never left even when it should have. “I kept being in love with you, through all of it, even when it hurt. I kept being in love with you when you left. I kept being in love with you in the quiet. I was still in love with you even when I hated myself for it, even when I told myself to move on.”

Every word from her lips hit him like scripture. Like prophecy. Like truth. He took them in like they were breath and his lungs were on fire.

“I waited and waited, smiling through it.” Her voice cracked, barely. “Telling myself it didn’t matter. That the series was enough. That my work would be enough. But it wasn’t. You were supposed to be enough too.”

He tried to speak, she raised a finger, silencing him like a queen.

“And don’t you dare show up here, in the house, in the place you look like you belong in, just to tell me all the things I begged to hear months ago. Don’t you dare to say all that if you’re not ready to stay.”

A tear fell, glowing silver on her cheek.

“But,” she breathed, voice faltering, just a note, then rising again like a crescendo, “if you mean it, if you’re here, not to borrow me but to choose me, then yes. There’s a chance.”

Her arms dropped and stepped forward then. Just one step. But it was everything.

“I still want it all. The breakfasts. The arguments about which movie to watch. The inside jokes. The midnights watching storms. The faint cigarette smoke on my clothes. The laughing until I can’t breathe. The way your hand finds mine without looking. I want all of it, mundane and the extraordinary.”

Another tiny step closer, her hand founding the front of his shirt.

“But I’m not giving you pieces of me this time, Hayden,” she said, looking straight into him. “It’s everything. Or it’s nothing at all.”

“Everything,” he breathed out, somehow. 

She nodded and grabbed his collar, pulling him down into her like gravity was a myth. 

And the kiss?

God.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a collapse, a wildfire. The moment when the orchestra explodes and everything the story has been building toward finally hits.

It was messy and wild and impossibly right. It was months of longing and regret and aching hope, poured into mouths that had waited too long.

Her hands tangled in his curls, pulling, grounding, owning him. His hands were everywhere, her waist, her back, the curve of her jaw, like he was trying to memorize every inch he'd lost, like she might vanish again if he wasn’t careful.

She tasted like tears and relief and forever.

And he kissed her like he was dying and she was breath. Like he knew every second they’d been apart and wasn’t wasting a single one more. Like he had been dead, hollow, since July and a kiss, not any kiss, her kiss, brought him back to life. Like she restarted his heart and somehow, she did.

Their bodies molded, their hearts crashed. It was too much and still not enough.

She clung to him like he was the anchor and the storm, arms wrapped around his middle, fists curling into his shirt, anchoring herself like she belonged there, because she did. And he held her like she was the place all the compasses had been pointing to, gripping her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

When they broke apart, barely, breathing heavy, foreheads pressed together like a prayer, she whispered:

“Don’t leave again.”

And he didn’t even hesitate.

His voice was steady, full of wonder and worship and the kind of love you only admit once you’ve nearly lost it all.

“Not unless it’s with you.”

And right then, under the porchlight, they stopped being an almost and became the always.

The morning light spilled like melted gold across her bedroom, stretching over linen sheets, dipping into the soft curve of her neck where her head rested on his chest.

Hayden lay still, one arm around her back, the other resting loosely on her thigh where her leg tangled with his, her bare foot resting against his calf. Her breath rose and fell against him in even rhythms, like the tide. 

Familiar. Soothing. Home.

He wasn’t sure what woke him first, her warmth or the way his heart felt like it had finally stopped holding its breath.

He tilted his head, slowly, carefully, and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His fingers were gentle, reverent. She looked like something out of a dream he never wanted to wake from. He could’ve stayed there forever, watching the sunlight kiss her cheeks, memorizing the softness of her lips, the flutter of her lashes.

He could have, but he had a better idea.

Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, he whispered, “Back soon,” though she was too deep in sleep to hear.

And then he slipped quietly out of bed.

When she woke, the scent of him still clinging to the pillow beside her, on her skin, in the room, and a smile appeared on her lips. But she didn’t feel him and her sleep-heavy brain whispered that she’d imagined it, that last night had been a dream, one of the ones she never dared to hope for.

But then, she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the warm light, and reached to the other side of the bed and it was still warm and the sound of soft clinks and muffled humming drifted in from the kitchen.

She sat up slowly, blinking sleep from her eyes, hair wild from the night, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Barefoot, she padded toward the kitchen, the cool floor grounding her as she rounded the corner.

And then she saw him.

Hayden. Barefoot too, in the hoodie that was his but she never gave back, sleeves pushed up as he stood at the stove, humming lowly to himself while he scrambled eggs and coffee brewing while toast popping.

Sunlight poured across the floor like it was showing off for him. As if it was leading her to him.

Her knees buckled a little and a smile stretched wide across her face, slow and stunned.

She walked toward him, slow and light, and slipped her hands under his hoodie from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist, cheek pressed to the warm curve of his back.

“Morning,” she murmured.

He hissed softly at the cold of her fingers. “Jesus,” he laughed, hand instinctively finding hers, warm and steady. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Whatcha doing?” she asked, peeking around his arm.

“Breakfast,” he hummed, as if it were obvious, as if it weren’t the single most romantic thing she’d ever witnessed at 7AM.

Giving him a light kiss on his back, she climbed onto the counter, legs swinging lightly as she watched him move, comfortable and easy like they’d always been this way.

He turned back to the eggs, but her presence kept tugging at his attention. She looked too cute there, hair messy, hoodie swallowing her whole, eyes sleepy and still full of love. So damn dreamlike that in between buttering toast, he leaned in and almost stole a kiss.

But before his lips could meet hers, her eyes flew wide and she jerked her head back. “No!”

He blinked, stunned. “What—?”

“I didn’t brush my teeth!” she cried, already hopping down from the counter like a woman on a mission.

And with that, she bolted down the hall, bare feet thumping against the floor, disappearing toward the bathroom.

Hayden laughed, really laughed, head back, shaking his head like she’d just told the best joke of his life. He couldn’t have given a bigger damn about morning breath or bed hair. She was her. She was his. And that was all that mattered.

A few minutes later, she padded back into the kitchen, lips freshly minty, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands and hair tied in a half bun.

She tried to walk past him on her way back to the counter, but his hand found the back of her neck as she passed, warm and firm.

He tugged gently. “Now give me my kiss,” he said, voice husky with sleep and something deeper. Something that made stars appear in her eyes and her knees falter a little. “Please,” he added, caressing her nose with the tip of his.

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

This time, it was slow. Sure. Devastating.

He kissed her like a man who had every intention of doing this every morning for the rest of his life. His hands cradled her face, guiding her, owning the moment, and she gave in gladly, letting him lead, letting herself fall.

When they broke apart, barely, she tilted her chin up, fingers weaving into his curls like they belonged there. With a breathless smile, she pulled him into a kiss, not urgent, not hungry, but slow and reverent. A kiss laced in sunlight, a kiss that was a promise.

She sighed into his mouth, the softest moan slipping from her lips, something so small and yet it lit every nerve ending in his body on fire. His free hand slid down, steady and sure, wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him like the only place she was ever meant to be was right there.

They didn’t part when the kiss ended, not truly. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between them. Her arms stayed looped around his neck, caressing the hairs at the nape of his neck and his hands held her like she was something he’d dreamed into reality.

She was looking up at him, not just with affection, but with awe too, like he was something celestial, like she couldn’t believe he was real.

He exhaled slowly and lifted one hand to her face, and with a kind of touch that could only be born from deep, aching love, he traced her features.

The soft arc of her brow, the curve of her nose, the swell of her lips, still pink from him, and she let him, totally entranced.

Her face rested in the cradle of his hands, her eyes sparkled, lips curved into the faintest smile as if the joy inside her was too big to stay hidden but too sacred to shout and he couldn’t stop smiling too

“What?” he whispered, like anything louder might shatter the spell.

Her lashes fluttered. “I’m mentally recording this moment.”

His chest stuttered. His heart roared.

“Are you…” he swallowed, breath catching, “utterly, incandescently happy?”

She just nodded, slowly, surely, and smiled so impossibly wide that it made the corners of her eyes scrunch, made his knees go weak, made every regret he'd ever known disappear like morning mist.

“Good,” he breathed, voice catching in his throat. “Me too.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her again, softly and sweetly. Like a prayer answered. Like they had all the time in the world and he would spend every second kissing her just like that.

When they parted, their foreheads still touched, she leaned into his palm. Her eyes closed, feeling peaceful and full.

And he could not stop looking at her, and didn't want to stop either. He let his eyes memorize her all over again.

The way the morning light kissed her skin. The baby hairs that curled against her temple. The way her breath caught when he brushed his thumb beneath her eye. The way her lips curved, still tingling from his. The way she looked, so radiant, so his, in the quiet haven of their morning.

He memorized every single detail all over again, because he knew that after losing her once, he’d never survive it again, he was never letting go again. And more to his satisfaction, she didn’t want to let go either, she was happy right where she was, in his arms.

Next Part →

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[winisayswhat]

What do you need to desperately hear right now ??

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Pile 1

You’ve been stretched too thin emotionally.You'll break if you stretch anymore. Maybe you’ve felt like you had to be strong for everyone else or kept pretending to be okay when you were running on empty. Your energy feels tirednot just from doing too much, but from carrying worry, fear, or uncertainty for too long.

You’re not falling apart you’re finally starting to let go. And that’s a good thing. Your guides are gently helping you break away from patterns that drained your peace. You’re not supposed to stay stuck just because it’s familiar.

You may have gone through a period where nothing felt certain job, money, love, or even your inner world. But there’s something solid ahead. A stable offer, a new chance, or simply peace of mind. The kind of calm that lasts.

There’s no rush to get there. You’re being shown how to move slow, steady, and softly. You’re learning to trust life again. Every quiet step forward matters.

Reminder: You’re not brokenyou’re growing. You’re being rebuilt on steadier ground. How I see you at the moment : A sunrise over calm water, steady, peaceful, and sure.

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Pile 2

This pile speaks to those who have loved with their whole heartseven when it wasn’t returned the same way. You may have been the one holding the emotional weight in a relationship or family dynamic. There’s a tiredness here, not just from giving, but from not being seen for how deeply you care.You're being asked to get honest with yourself: is this really loveor just habit, guilt, or fear of being alone??

Something karmic is wrapping up. A chapter where you were asked to adjust beyond reason, stay silent to keep peace, or carry more than it was fair. The scales are balancing now, and it might feel like loss at first. But what you’re letting go of was never meant to stay the same.Read that again !

For some, there may still be love here ,but only if it starts meeting you halfway. For others, this is a call to walk away and make space for what feels like home, not a battle.

Reminder: Love shouldn’t feel like survival. You’re allowed to be soft and still be safe. How I see you at the moment : A rose with thorns , delicate, but guarded. Love with boundaries.

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Pile 3

You’ve been sensing something isn’t quite right. It’s not always obviousbut your body, your dreams, or your inner voice have been trying to tell you. This isn’t paranoia,it’s inner knowing.

You’re growing out of something. Maybe a version of you that used to be okay settling. Maybe a situation that once felt safe but now feels like a cage. And even if nothing “bad” is happening, something doesn’t feel alive anymore.

That’s your truth calling you out. The Moon and High Priestess energy here is strong. You’re not meant to have all the answers yet. This part of your path isn’t about logic ,it’s about trust.

You might feel like you’re walking away without closure or proof. That’s okay. You don’t need anyone else to agree with what you feel. Some goodbyes happen in silence. And that doesn’t make them less valid.There is this quote I read yesterday ''Never talking again , is the best closure I had "

You’re entering a quiet, powerful shift. One where you no longer explain your choices or shrink your intuition to make others comfortable.

Reminder: You don’t owe anyone your peace!!!! You’re allowed to walk away just because it hurts to stay. How I see you at the moment : A mirror cracking , illusions falling away. Truth setting you free.

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Pile 4

This pile feels full of movement. You’ve been waiting for a moment where things finally make sense and it’s coming. This energy says, “You’ve done the work. You’re ready.”

Expect quick shifts and changes ,emails, invitations, opportunities, or new attention. Don’t overthink it. Don’t shrink. You’re not “lucky”you’re prepared and have earned it !

You’ve outgrown the version of you that second guessed every step. You’ve been through the self-doubt, the trial runs, the quiet nights wondering if it would ever be your turn. It is. This is it !!

The King of Wands energy here says, step up, speak clearly, and own your vision like a baddie !. You’re not here to follow,you're here to lead,its a long over due for you !. You don’t have to be flashy about it .Your calm confidence speaks louder than any performance.

Some of you may be stepping into more public spaces ,social media, leadership roles, or creative platforms. Others are simply getting seen for who they’ve always been.

Let people adjust to your light. You’re not here to fit inyou’re here to stand out!

Reminder: You don’t have to shrink so others feel comfortable. You weren’t made for small spaces. How I see you at the moment : A lion in sunlight warm, radiant, confident without trying too hard.

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[cryptotheism]

After enough study and overview of all these variably-bugshit philosophical traditions, does it all start to make its own sort of sense to you? Not in the sense of starting to subscribe to any particular esoteric beliefs, but as being able to intuitively systematize things. I'm imagining something as simple as automatically getting what W and X are on about, why that is a consequence of the beliefs of Y, how both of these were a natural consequence of Z, and how it has nothing to do with G despite fascinating parallels.

[cw fake placeholder jargon] I doubt it can ever be as clean-cut as being able to read a manifesto and saying "oh, this one is cthonic type-A pseudoplatonism with principally millenarian rhetoric and aesthetics mostly informed by 20th century Orientalism", but I do like to imagine that you have Religious Studies superpowers.

I don't want to frame it as "I literally understand everything and the occult is the key to understanding all ideology" that's way too much.

But, you do get a good set of tools for describing the shape of complex and strange belief systems. I can find a random conspiracist on tiktok and I get can get a good sense of their idealogical genealogy from hearing the words they use.

Occult ideologies like weird new age shit and conspiracism are still just ideologies and mythologies, but the way they interact is much more chaotic than most other ideologies. Which is to say yeah, circumstances like the one you described do happen to me. There have been times when I've come across strange occult conversations that are incomprehensible to most people, but make complete sense to me. But in the sense that I am baffled by people talking about like, how a car works. My knowledge isn't "more special" than a car mechanics just because I learn about wizards and a mechanic learns about engines.

[saintshadow]

ALCHEMICAL GOLD:

HOW TO TRANSFORM UR CURRENT SITUATION

↳ a/n: I hope you all enjoy this reading, I’m really trying to work on having more cohesive and attractive layouts for my readings. Feedback would be wonderful! 🩶⚔️

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲 ☿

You may be the first of your family or friend group to choose or think differently. Ie; coming from a family of alcoholics and choosing sobriety- coming from a family of abuse, Christianity, Strict//Traditional values & choosing whatever is true to YOU. I sense that people respect this different frame of mind. You have a massive impact on your close ones, I see that maybe in the past it has even led to violent outbursts from friends or family. Perhaps you feel trapped by the circumstances of life, you feel like others cannot comprehend your ideas. It may feel difficult, because there may be part of you that understands your connection to your community or your family is an INHERENT point of your success in spite of the fact they make you feel held back. I’m in tears with this pile, you guys are amazing and I hope you know and feel that. Even if others don’t always acknowledge what you are doing or what you are capable of- deep down they know.

You definitely reincarnated from your bloodline.

Your advice is to stop waiting for approval from your partner, mother, sister, brother, friends, WHOEVER- whoever's approval you're waiting on- they're unfortunately not going to give it to you likely until it's a bit too late. I understand how painful this is for you, and for some I understand that rather than approval someone may have died or passed away- and you are wanting to know that they support you. I see a lot of you are very hopeful for the future, but you're waiting- so patiently and very obediently for something. I heard someone whisper "go" it was a woman's voice, I feel that you are far more powerful than you or anyone else could have anticipated. Maybe you weren't born into the best circumstances- perhaps you almost became a statistic. Take wise action, don't move on pure impulse. You know what you've been wanting to do- so you need to go and do it. For those who feel confused by this pile I feel called to recommend pile 2 to you though I haven't written it yet. With the 7 of Pentacles, The Magician, and the Ace of Pentacles-

it's clear to me you have everything you need to make this happen. You have literally nothing to worry about, in fact. There's some kind of truth or situation you may feel called to share publicly. For some this could have to do with bringing justice to a situation, speaking on a horrific thing that happened- defending a loved one even? If not that, then you are being called to take measured steps to re-establish yourself socially. You're supposed to cut through something, someone could have used your name or reputation as a punching-bag. I heard something about cutting off the head of the dragon, and it's weird bc I was watching Percy Jackson Yesterday- I remember the scene with the hydra in the book and that is coming to mind for me. You're revealing something about yourself to others. The way you carry yourself, I heard "emblem". So that definitely makes me think of your public image. Embrace the lessons that difficulty as a child taught you, I feel very sad for your childhood pile one. It is abundantly clear to me that you have been misunderstood for a very long time. People get upset with the things they cannot understand, you are not bad. I promise. The things your family taught you- the values, the structure and foundation no matter how broken have endowed you with great wisdom and strength. You have everything you need my love, I promise you that you do. I know some of you don't feel ready, some of you may feel angry or frustrated or stagnant, just take the leap of faith. Start doing the thing, start working the process, don't give up now. You have a vision that goes far beyond what other people could visualize, it doesn't matter if they think it won't work. Not when you KNOW it will.

Find the wisdom in your heartache, and work to defy all odds. Take the pain as an opportunity to reflect, to gain knowledge- as a step towards your ultimate truth. Rework the way you experience pain. I know it's tiring, it's frustrating, it's unfair- but this lesson isn't to punish you. It is to propel you, there is a reason this theme continually pops up. I think this group should study their Chiron placement, there seems to be something there. Your pain heals others, your pain opens the door to wisdom, healing, truth, and release. Allow yourself to exist truly and freely as the most authentic version of yourself while working to rise above the pain as often as s possible.

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓲 ☿

You need to sit tight through this period of uncertainty, I'm seeing the sails on a ship moving direction/course. So much has built up to now, you're tired of sitting and waiting in uncertainty. You're tired of pain, boredom, confusion, and the likes. It feels like rage, ready to bubble over- you may even be losing your faith in the divine. Because it seems like nothing works. Like nothing goes in your favor, you are angry. Scorned, you feel scammed. This is because intuitively you know a wish is about to be fulfilled, it's starting to come together now. Most ironically, I sense that you're preforming a type of martyrdom right now. You are sacrificing for a future that you're scared you won't be able to see. You feel as if you are blindfolded in the dark, and honestly you are- I also get frustrated at these circumstances. I find them to be unnecessary and unfair, though I am a human and probably super biased because I get the same way sometimes.

Your blessings are secretive, they aren't coming to you in a normal way. It's so weird, I really don't know why this is the approach your spirits are taking. It looks like it's because you need to learn something about balance and calmness. You have to develop a better discipline with negative emotions so they are taking this opportunity to teach that skill.

It's giving "we're going to literally make your external experience match your internal experience until you realize you're the problem" Let me tell you friend, some beautiful shit is headed your way- it's genuinely best if you just get with the memo and recognize that good things can happen to you. A lot of this "negativity" you're feeling is literally a release, you're purging a lot right now, and it's hard for you, I really do get that honestly. It isn't easy, it's in fact quite difficult and I'm sure overwhelming to feel forced into this position. You're tired of suffering, but you must take action to end your own suffering, and not like killing yourself cus I just get the vibe some of this group has been suicidal.

Fight your negative thoughts, when they tell you "something bad is happening everything will go bad" argue, point out the work you've done and the blessings you've reaped.

I get this vibe that any conflict you're seeing is not actually "real" so to speak, like- literally ignore it lowkey. Not like don't pretend it exists, but don't FEED it, it's fickle- it will come and go. There are so many other things in your life that have an actual sturdy foundation. Hold onto your healthy love/romance/friendships/relationships, hold onto your talents and gifts, hold onto your future desires- and keep your eyes ahead. Don't fixate on the dramas and bullshit of the now. Focus on something that showers you in hope- because I promise- just because you aren't seeing it in the now doesn't mean it isn't here. Once it all arrives, you'll FINALLY understand my dear.

Knight of Pentacles, 2 of pentacles, the empress, the queen of cups, and the 2 of cups.

Slow and steady wins the race, keep balance the best that you can- reap the fruits of your labor, penny pinch, be mindful of keeping the balance in check- and with a hopeful and emotionally calm heart look towards your future. If you've been feeling downtrodden or drained, you have a pick me up coming. Very soon, and it'll put quite a bit of pep in your step. You will see things changing drastically in your life very soon. Trust the process, I know you're starting to get fed up but just trust and believe in yourself. You are going to do just fine, frfr.

Since this pile is a bit shorter than 2, here is some further advice for tapping into this empress version of you: This is a hard one Pile Two, but- this is about releasing control. Going with the flow of life, while tending to your metaphorical "garden". When you feel the fear and control flaring back up, remember that you literally can only do what you're able to do. Stop to appreciate the things you do have, and look for a new perspective or find a way to avert your attention. This is a battle, girl, so you gotta buckle up and dive in. You are rewiring your mind and this is not an easy task, but you will come out better for it.

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓲𝓲 ☿

Pile 3, I can tell you're working on something important to you. You're really transforming yourself, I see that a lot of what you need to do to transform your life you are already doing. So perhaps this is going to be more like an explanation of your life's current "season". I want to start by highlighting an interesting combination of cards pulled on the side, they seem to be the shift in the tide. We have the high priestess, the sun reversed, and the 2 of wands, all forming a little pyramid. The sun being the furthest towards the bottom, the high priestess being more towards the middle, and the 2 of wands being on top. You are observing a lot right now, you are looking at the world and your environment and everything at large and you may be realizing how small your view had been for so long. The wisdom is being culminated within you in every moment you gain clarity. I see you may have a message to deliver to this world. A light shines deep within you, this sun reversed to me paired with the high priestess almost reminds me of the black sun. The light concealed within darkness, the eternal flame I also heard. You are opening something up inside of you, something that once opened cannot be stopped. This is a good thing, you may be realizing that your past emotional patterns do not serve you anymore. You are slowly culling them off, one by one, plucking them from the root so they may never return. I see you are building your wish fulfillment, perhaps you are looking to be a spiritual elder, or a person with authority. Someone who other people listen to and rely on, some of you could even be working to enter politicians, teachers, preachers even- Wisdomatic souls with much to give to others. People may begin to respect you more, you could find that the deeper you step into this energy the more "correct" things feel, the more things fall into place for you and the more you realize that your grapple with control was fruitless.

For those in relationships that are healthy and who will resonate strongly with this message then take it: Hold on to your person, and be steadfast, trust that something is being done in your favor and remember how much the two of you have overcome in the past. When the world seems out of control, confusing, and overwhelming remember the peace you will have one day. Remember what this is all for, you have a beautiful future ahead of you. Some of you could become very wealthy for your esoteric or spiritual knowledge, others could become very wealthy for their depth of knowledge on a particular subject- in especially niche or unknown//misunderstood areas.

You will taste true independence, and possibly even some sort of fame or recognition. You will be blessed with a higher position of authority and people may just start to really respect your hustle more. If someone isn't for you, then let it be what it is. Perhaps some of you have some friends/family members who can be fickle/unreliable. Be more intentional with what friendships you'll decide to keep & why? Be more mindful about what you share with friends and family right now as well, even the people you trust. Keep things to yourself, and be patient with the growth of the fruits of your labor bae.

[cowboybeepboop]

Rescued

"Um, I...I need to clean up."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2k

Summary: part two of my Bob smut 🥴

Warnings: unprotected sex, needy Bob, slight angst, idk

a/n: I’m obsessed with writing about him 😣 I need Lewis Pullman like a teenager needs their vape 😩 as always send any requests you might have my way! I’d love to get some more done 😛

Part one :

A couple days have passed since you and Bob shared your intimate moment together, and you’ve been avoiding him like hell. You knew that you shouldn’t have gone that far with him, he needed a friend and you felt like you took advantage of his loneliness.

Rubbing a hand over your tired eyes you stand in the kitchen, you haven’t been sleeping or eating much, avoiding the whole team is one of the most impossible tasks you’ve ever had. The clock reads 3:30 am, a small mess of dishes are left in the sink and the trash is overfilled.

“Fuck.” You run a hand through your messy hair, quietly beginning to do the dishes, a chore that’s been neglected recently.

Bob quietly creeps into the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes fixed on your form as you work on the dishes. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the heavy bags under your eyes, the way you avoid looking at him. It’s not hard for him to guess what’s going on.

He hesitates for a moment, watching you as you try to ignore him. He stands there for a few minutes, debating with himself, before finally deciding to say something. "You...you look tired."

“Oh, Bob.” You breathe out, part of you has been craving his company, craving the sound of his voice and then the other part of you feels immeasurable guilt for pushing the boundaries of your friendship. “How come you’re up so late tonight?” Pushing down your thoughts and feelings you try to pretend that nothing is wrong.

Bob can sense the shift in your demeanor, the way you're trying to act normal. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes fixed on you, searching for any signs of what's truly going on.

"I couldn't sleep." he murmurs softly, his gaze roaming over your exhausted form. "Just felt...restless."

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anyway I can help?” Keeping your eyes focused on the sink you don’t even notice Bob creeping toward you, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Bob stands right behind you now, close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his thin t-shirt, his hands still fiddling with the material. He stares down at your back, his voice soft yet slightly hoarse, "Well...there is one thing..."

The feeling of him so close sends a comforting tingle down your spine, his cologne, deodorant, shampoo, all of it is filling your senses and putting you at complete ease. “Yeah? What’s that Bob?”

Bob takes a step closer, his chest now pressed up against your back, his breath warm on your neck. He places one of his hands on your hip, lightly applying the barest amount of pressure to turn you towards him.

"I could use some...company," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

Bob can sense your hesitation, your guilt, and he's not having it. He steps even closer to you, his body practically pressed against yours now, his fingers gently gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"No," he murmurs roughly, his eyes locked onto yours, "Don't you push me away."

“What happened before, that was a mistake.” You know he’s better off pushed away from you, he needs friends, a *family*, not you, not this. “I should’ve never pushed those boundaries with you, it was a mistake,” You turn to face the dishes again, letting the warm water run over your hands.

His expression falters, a pang of pain shooting through his chest at your words. That's it? A mistake. Like that night was nothing, like he was some kind of fool to let his walls down around you.

Bob feels his mind wandering, thinking of all the negative things about himself, what things could make you act like this. He can’t think straight, he’s hurt, but more than anything he craves you. His arms find their way around your waist, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “Please Y/N, don’t do this to me…” he whispers.

You lean back into his embrace, head falling over his shoulder a small moan escaping from your lips at the feeling of his breath against your skin. “Oh Bob,” his hands slide up your shirt, wandering your skin, his touch needy and desperate.

He can't help himself, his body craving your touch, his hands roaming over your skin, like he's trying to memorize the feel of you. He trails kisses along the column of your neck, murmuring against your skin, "You...you don't regret it, do you? Being with me like that."

His hands cup your breasts, as he pushes your body forward, bending you over the counter. “No, not at all.. I don’t regret anything with-“ you lose track of your thoughts, the feeling of his erection pressed against you sending your mind reeling. “With you..” you murmur, soft pants and moans leaving your lips as his hands continue their wandering.

Bob's hands continue their trail over your body, his touch becoming more and more desperate with every passing moment, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Good, that's...that's good." he murmurs against your skin, his lips never leaving you as they press soft kisses along your neck.

His fingers fiddle with the button of your pants, slowly popping them open to reveal the fabric of your underwear, his mouth moving to your ear, your name a breathy whisper, "Please, tell me you still want me. That I'm...enough."

“God.. you’re so much more than enough,” you moan, hands moving to help remove your underwear. “You’re all I need,” your cunt aches for his touch, body shaking with every move he makes.

"Please…let me make you feel good. Let me keep you. Let me show you...what you do to me," Bob murmurs gently in your ear, his words sending another shiver down your back. "Please, don't push me away," he whispers, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "I'll...I'll show you."

As the fabric of your underwear slides down your legs, Bob's need for you overpowers his timidity. His hands, though gentle, are insistent as they explore the curves of your ass, gripping each cheek firmly. He leans in, his face buried in your hair as he whispers, "You're so beautiful."

His desperation manifests in the way his thumbs trace the line where your thigh meets your pelvis, his fingertips brushing against the wetness of your arousal. Despite his tentative touch, there's an urgency in his voice, a raw hunger that wasn't present before.

His breath hitches as he finally dips a digit into your folds, teasing and testing, as if seeking reassurance that you still crave him. The tender intimacy of the moment is palpable, his touch a silent plea for you to not deny him.

Bob's finger circles your clit with a gentle yet urgent stroking motion, his thumb pressing down firmly on the sensitive nub as he watches your reaction in the window over the sink. The sight of your face contorted in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted in a silent gasp, fuels his desire even more. He's desperate to erase any doubt between you, to prove that what happened wasn't just a fleeting moment of weakness.

His other hand snakes around to the front, his thumb brushing over your clit as two of his fingers slip inside your wet, eager pussy. You're so wet for him, and the feel of your tightness around his fingers is almost too much. He can't believe he ever doubted your feelings for him.

His strokes become more deliberate, his touch more confident, as he watches your body respond to his every move. The sound of your moans fills the quiet kitchen, mixing with the faint splashing of the faucet and the occasional clink of a dish. He feels your muscles tighten around his fingers, and he knows you're close.

His thumb presses harder, his fingers pumping faster, as he watches you climb closer to the edge. And when you finally do, your body arches back into him, your hand flying to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, he feels a sense of triumph and relief wash over him. For this moment, at least, you're his, and he's yours.

Bob's need for you is palpable as he guides you away from the sink, turning off the faucet with his elbow, not once breaking the connection between his body and yours. He lifts you onto the kitchen counter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steps between them. He's still fully dressed, but you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his shorts, his hands trembling with anticipation.

With a gentle but firm grip, he lifts your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, his eyes drinking in the sight of your bare breasts. He lowers his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive peak. You arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as he gives your other nipple the same treatment.

The sound of fabric ripping fills the room as he impatiently pulls down his shorts, revealing his thick, hard cock. He lines it up with your dripping wet pussy, and with one swift, needy thrust, he's inside you. His hips rock against yours in a rhythm that's both gentle and rough, the kind of desperate claiming that leaves no doubt about his feelings for you. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucks you, his breathing harsh and ragged in your ear.

Your body responds instantly to his touch, your pussy clenching around him, drawing him deeper. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, making it impossible to ignore the connection that's been building between you since that night. The kitchen counter digs into your back, but you don't care, the pain only heightening your pleasure as he fucks you harder, faster, his cock sliding in and out of you with an urgency that speaks of his need for you.

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice hoarse with desire, his breath hot and panting against your skin. His hand moves between your legs, his thumb finding your clit once again, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You're so close, your entire body tightening around him, your nails digging into his back as you hold on for dear life.

And when you finally cum, it's with a loud cry that echoes through the empty house, your pussy spasming around his cock, milking him until he follows you over the edge, his own orgasm shaking him to his core. He collapses against you, his body weight pressing you into the cold countertop, his cock still buried deep inside you as he gasps for air.

Bob's body shakes against yours, his breaths ragged and labored, both his hands resting on your hips. He's still nestled between your legs, his head resting on your shoulder, his lips pressed against your neck. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, he just stays there, his body completely enveloping yours.

Slowly, his body starts to relax, his breathing begins to even out. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there, a hint of fear that everything that just happened was just some fever dream. "Please don't pull away from me." he whispers softly,

“I won’t.. not anymore, I promise.” You cover his face with kisses, gentle and sweet.

Bob relaxes into your touch, savoring the feeling of your lips on his skin. His grip on your hips loosens as he straightens up, his body no longer pressing you into the countertop. He glances down, a hint of embarrassment on his face as he realizes he's still inside you, his cock slowly softening.

He blushes as he looks down at where your bodies are still connected, his voice a soft whisper, "Um, I...I need to clean up."

[orangeocelotmartyn]

All the Life Series hints in Scar's stream from 5/10/25

Scar: "Scar! Do you have any info about a new Life Series? If you are allowed." If I was allowed I would say. But there is nothing. When Grian has an idea, Grian will tell us. And when he has an idea, we will work on it, and we'll have a fun series that you all enjoy. But until Grian has that idea, we will wait in anticipation. 'Cause Grian is-is a wise, wise creative man. And when those wise creative thoughts hit him, we will all enjoy a life series. But until then we will not pressure said Grian. Until those ideas flourish, in his brain parts. As a wise British man he is. (Scar laughs, reading chat, and Gem flies into frame while he doesn't notice) Ah, let's see--wait, Grian joined? (laughing) He joined right when I said that, that's so funny. Wh-wh-what a funny, uh. Yeah, speak of the Devil! Oh, is that a wild Gem?

---

Gem: What's up? Scar: Are you looking at my flower beds? (he snickers) Gem: Yeah. Scar: I fe-I felt like-I felt like there was-there was some thoughts here. Share with the class. (in the background, you can vaguely see a green concrete powder, then a yellow concrete powder, then a red concrete powder drop from off screen) Gem: No no no no no, there's--(the noise of fireworks, like someone is leaving)--fireworks? Scar: (noticing the concrete powder) Oh. My. God. Gem: What's that? Scar: Gem, that is so ominous. (four seconds of silence) I was just talking about the Life Series. Gem: (sounding amused) I think he wants-I think he wants to tell you something. Scar: Grian, do you have something else you want to share with the class? (Scar laughs quietly) Grian? (his laugh gets louder) Anything-anything you want to share? (two seconds of silence) That is--very ominous. Gem: See--do you think he's thinking about it, or? Scar: I don't think he ever not thinks about it. Gem: That's true. Scar: Yeah. Gem: I don't know if his brain ever turns off. Scar: I don't think so.

---

Gem: The game has new cows! You must see them, (overlapping Scar) they're very good--oh, uh-- Scar: (under Gem) I've seen the new chicken. Gem: Scar, I don't want to alarm you, but there is a, uh…somebody behind you. (Scar slowly turns around, but by the time he has done a complete 180, Grian has logged out)…Nevermind. There's nobody behind you. Scar: What in the world! Gem: There's nobody behind you, don't worry about it, actually, it's completely fine. Nothing-nobody's behind you. Scar: Is he like a Creaking? I just turn away and he'll reappear. (he snickers) Gem: Uhhhh. You're clear-in the clear right now. Nothin'--nobody there.

---

Gem: This, like right here? (Scar turns away to watch Grian run past) I've composted it Scar, I've composted it.(Scar finally looks back at Gem) Um. This has gone horribly wrong. Scar: Wait, what happened? Gem: (clears her throat) Nothing. (three seconds of silence) Scar: (realizing) Oh, you put the-that in the composter. Gem: (through laughter) There's a composter on your build, I don't mean to alarm you, but, uh, yeah, anyways. Scar: Oh, I see what you-oh that makes, that makes a ton of sense, that's-- Gem: Cause then it kinda looks a little dead? That's kinda fun. Scar: Yeah! I know when um--like, the palm trees we had in, uh, California, sometimes those big, uh, little--I forgot what they were called, the big…dead bushels? They'd fall off, hit somebody in the head, and kill 'em? Gem: (noticing that Grian has logged off again) Did he just log on to move his body. Scar: He-he (noticing the three plants that weren't there previously) oh my god he--mmph. (three seconds of silence as Scar walks over to the propagule, the dandelion, and the poppy that Grian placed before leaving) Gem. Come-come to the back of the shop. Gem: Oh. Sure. Hold on, do you not have a--(she breaks the iron door keeping her inside the shop) Scar: You know, one thing I forgot was--a way to open that door. (he laughs) Gem: Oh my gosh, what is he doing? (three seconds of silence) Scar: You gotta give us something, Grian, you gotta give us somethin'. Gem: He's the most ominous man. Scar: He's-he-Grian is very ominous sometimes. 'Cause-there's a lot going on in his head, he's always got something cooking? So he has that ominous vibe of being like. Like one step ahead with an idea, so-- Gem: He's a little cryptid, is what he is. Scar: Very cryptid. (three seconds of silence) You can't leave the chat anticipation, Grian. You gotta give them something. Give them a morsel. Give them a tasty treat. I don't know why I'm looking at the sky, it's not like he just flies into the sky when he logs off. Gem: (through laughter) I mean. He might. Scar: That's true.

---

Gem: What is going on here, why is there--oh. Scar: Oh, there's lots of stuff down there. If-if you don't mind, (he pauses to laugh), we should clear that out down here. (he drops into the hole Gem made) Oh yeah that's-oh yeah that's not good, oh dear. Gem: Oh, Scar-- Scar: Oh my god. Gem: Scar-- Scar: Oh my god. Gem: Scar. Scar: I'm gettin' out. I'm gettin' out, I'm out, I'm out. (Gem laughs) Oh my god. (Grian wanders into Scar's view, then flies off) Gem: Oh! Scar: Grian! Gem: Grian! Scar: (through laughter) This-- Gem: (through laughter) What-what is happening? Scar: There's-the propagule propaguled! (he laughs) We've got a giant tree over here now. (notices that Gem went into the hole) Are you okay down there?

[atzinwonderland]

Ateez react to their s/o calling them by their full name

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。

fluff, humour, a bit of angst | ateez x reader

Hongjoong

Working at his home studio all day, Hongjoong felt exhausted. All he wanted was some good food and sleep. Stepping out of the studio, he left everything in a hurry and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. Arranging dinner with the members was an easy task. In less than a minute, he was already putting his shoes on and heading towards the agreed restaurant.

Dinner was going great, the mood was chill, and the only thing left on his to-do list was to sleep. Nothing could ruin this peaceful night…or, well, that’s what he thought.

Today was a long day for you. You’d been asked to cover a late shift at work, and since you couldn’t say no, here you were, counting the minutes until it was over. Unexpectedly, for this time of day, your phone rang, and it was none other than your neighbour. You’d never gotten calls from them before, so you thought that it might be important.

“Hello?”

“Hi, um, I didn’t want to call, but—” the neighbour began explaining, but you could barely hear them over the loud music that was playing in the background.

“I’m sorry, but I can barely hear you. Is it possible to turn down the music a bit?”

“That’s the thing… it’s coming from your apartment. It’s also not the first time, that’s why I’m calling”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Really?! Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll be finished with my shift in a few minutes, and I’ll head straight home. I’ll talk to my boyfriend since he might be at home, and I’ll tell him to turn it down”

“Okay, thank you”

“No, thank you for your patience. I’ll solve the issue as quickly as possible,” you ended the call. Your blood was boiling at this stage. Your poor neighbour—they must’ve had to endure that for a long time.

You immediately called Hongjoong, hoping to find a good explanation.

"Hi, honey, how's—"

"Kim Hongjoong!" you interrupted, and his sense of calmness was immediately gone. He had never heard you call him by his full name.

"Should I be scared or turned on?"

"Tell me why our neighbour just called and complained about loud music playing from our apartment??" you asked, anger rushing through your veins.

"What?! There's no way I—wait, maybe I did forget the music on..."

"Maybe?!"

"Okay, I did forget it, but I'm not home"

"Then go home now and stop it—we'll talk there"

"Okay, I'm sorry. Just please don't drive mad, okay? Be careful...," he said, making sure that you come home safe.

"Okay, Joong...see you later," you replied, to not worry him, and then hung up.

Somehow, the two of you ended up arriving home at the same time. Not saying a word to each other, you just rushed to get to his computer and turn the music off. After the click of a button, the apartment became dead quiet. That's when Hongjoong knew it was time to apologise and make up for his mistake.

"I'm sorry, honey. This must've caused you a lot of stress," he apologised, as he gently approached you and placed his hands on both sides of your waist.

"To be honest, that call was the last thing I needed—my day was already draining enough. Just please be careful next time. They said it wasn't the first time it has happened"

"There won't be a next time, I promise. I don't want to hear you say my full name ever again"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry about that, by the way. The anger just got to me..."

"I think I deserved it...although, It did turn me on, so if—"

You couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Shut up, Joong!" you said, as you playfully punched his shoulder.

He knew how to make you smile.

Seonghwa

The other day, you decided to buy yourself a little present—a flower Lego set that you were going to build on your day off.

After you brought it home, you placed it on one of the display shelves in your living room and stared at it for a while, satisfied with your purchase. You were so excited for the weekend to come, so you could build it and put it in your bedroom.

It was finally Friday. You finished work and headed home, excited for the eventful weekend ahead of you.

You unlocked the front door to your apartment, entered, and, one look later, your whole world was crumbling at your feet.

"Park Seonghwa! Noo—how could you do this to me?" you disappointingly shouted at the sight of your boyfriend finishing up the Lego set that was on the shelf, waiting for you to build it.

Your loud entrance scared Seonghwa, and he jumped out of his seat on the couch.

"What happened, love? Wait, did you just call me Park Seonghwa?" he asked, feeling the effects of hearing his full name.

"I was meant to be the one to build that set. I've been waiting all week...," you explained whiningly, at the verge of tears, as Seonghwa walked up to you.

"Really? I had no idea, my love—I'm sorry. I wanted to surprise you by building it and putting it in our bedroom, but I should've asked you first. What can I do to make it up to you?" he asked softly, pulling you into his arms, because he couldn't stand looking at your pouty face.

"I guess if we go and buy another one to build together, that would be nice..."

"Let's do that, love. I would love to build another set with you"

"I also wouldn't mind a massage...and chocolate...," you added cutely, and Seonghwa couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable you were.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then agreed to your requests.

"Consider all of these done, love. I just have a small request as well..."

"What is it?"

"Can you go back to calling me bun again? I don't really like it when you call me Park Seonghwa," he innocently asked, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Of course, bun," you said, and watched as his eyes sparkled at your words.

Yunho

It was yours and Yunho's day off, and some of your closest friends invited you for a girls' day out. You couldn't say no, because you barely saw them nowadays—it was only right that you go.

Although he was happy for you, Yunho couldn't help but feel upset that he wouldn't be able to spend his day off with you, and pouted until the last minute.

You knew him well—he always acts upset until you leave, and then, once you're gone, he has the time of his life playing all of his favourite video games—so you weren't too worried about him.

Plus, he wouldn't be completely alone. He had to take care of your recently adopted puppy.

You gave Yunho a goodbye kiss, then headed out.

The day spent with the girls was amazing, and you had a very fun time. You had so much fun that you'd completely forgotten to contact Yunho and see how he was doing—and you realised that too late.

You were already on your way back when you decided to call him. Strangely, he wasn't picking up, and that was very unusual for him. Wondering what he was doing, you rushed to get home as quickly as possible.

Taking the keys out of your bag, you unlocked the door, only to be met with an incredible sight.

Yunho, sleeping on the couch, with your puppy asleep on his stomach, all kinds of snacks—even dog treats—spilled all over the living room table, as the tv played his favourite show.

When you got closer, you realised that he had given so many treats to your puppy that now his tummy was poking out. You were mad that he didn’t think of your puppy’s health, but before waking him up and scolding him, you took a picture of the cute scene. Even when he was in the wrong, he was still cute.

“Jeong Yunho, what's happening here?” you said quietly enough not to scare him.

“Who? Oh hi, bug, I didn’t realise you’re back already…I must’ve fallen asleep”

"Why is our table a mess? And how could you give Sparkles so many treats? Look at him, he probably feels sick," you scolded, and Yunho's face turned from happy to embarrassed.

"I'm sorry...My plan was to clean up before you came home, but somehow I fell asleep. I'm also sorry about Sparkles, but I couldn't resist his cuteness—though I know that I should've been more careful," he apologized with his lips pouted, still laying down on the couch, looking down, not having the confidence to face you.

Seeing him like that, you couldn't stay mad any longer. "I'm the one that can't resist your cuteness," you said, giving in with a sigh, kneeling close to him on the couch.

"Next time, just be careful with giving him treats, okay?"

"Okay...," he replied, as a slight blush appeared on his cheeks.

"Actually, I think I also had a little too many snacks," he confessed in a soft voice, and you couldn't help but chuckle. The two of you exchanged looks, then simultaneously looked in the direction of his tummy, poking a little out of his t-shirt.

"Aww, Yuyu, please stop being cute or I might just die..."

"At least I'm Yuyu again. That means my strategy worked," he shared, and you giggled at his remark, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Yeosang

You and Yeosang got invited to an important event, and both of you were quite excited to attend it.

You’d thought of everything—your outfit, your makeup look, and today was finally the day to get ready.

You finished work early and headed to your apartment. Arriving there, you noticed that Yeosang’s shoes were placed near the door, meaning he was already there.

You thought that’s great, because he’ll be able to get ready first, and then you’ll have the bathroom all to yourself. It wouldn’t be a problem to get ready together, but since your bathroom is really small, that’ll make it harder for both of you.

“I’m home, pup”

“Okay, precious, I’m getting ready in the bathroom,” he shouted in a happy voice across the hallway.

“Perfect, I’ll have some food in the meantime,” you said, thinking that in not more than 30 minutes he’d be out of there—but you were very wrong.

After more than half an hour passed, you decided to check on him and see what was happening.

"Pup, are you done yet?" you asked impatiently and hoped for a positive answer.

"Give me five more minutes..."

"Okay, but hurry up—I also need to get ready, and I take longer, so..." you warned, and just like that, way more than five minutes were already gone.

At this point, you couldn't believe how long it was taking Yeosang to get ready.

"Kang Yeosang! You're taking way too long, and I have to get ready as well!" you shouted outside the bathroom door, and when he heard his name being called out, he dramatically opened door.

"What did you just call me?"

"Your name...?" you said, confused, acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Okay, so because I'm using the bathroom, you dared to call me by my full name? How is that fair, when I never said that you can't be in here getting ready with me?"

"Our bathroom is too small, Yeosang," you complained, and without another word, he placed both of his hands on the sides of your waist, gently pulling you close to him, both of you now standing in front of the bathroom mirror.

"See, it works... Plus, I wouldn't mind standing this close to you, precious—it makes me feel good," he flirted, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're unbelievable...," you didn't get to finish, before he questioned the end of your sentence.

"Pup?" he said, eyes twinkling with hope that that's how you intended to call him at the end of your sentence.

"Pup," you confirmed, and a wide smile formed on his face.

Yeosang wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you, precious. Now let me help you get ready, so I can make it up to you"

"You better..." you responded cheekily, and he just giggled at your cute anger.

San

You and San have been friends longer than you've been together as a couple. Since the two of you haven't been together for long, he still hasn't had the chance to meet some of your family members—one of them being your older brother. You felt like it was finally time for them to meet.

In your head, the way you described your brother was normal—fitness maniac, extremely protective, hates unhealthy food, but sweet. To San though, your description seemed quite scary.

After hearing your description of him, San thought that the only way to get his approval was through preparation.

A week in advance, San not only worked out harder, but also ordered different types of fitness machines for your shared apartment.

On the day that you went to pick up your brother and bring him to your apartment, while you were gone, he also went to the grocery store and swapped out all of the food you had in your fridge for only healthy food.

Once he prepared everything, he couldn't sit in one place, so he paced around the apartment, hoping that everything would go well.

The sound of the door unlocking made him freeze in his place, standing in the middle of the living room.

"Welcome, y/b/n—" you said, cutting yourself off after taking a look at the sight in front of you. Your whole living room, filled with workout machines, weights scattered all over your shelves and living room table. Walking further in, different kinds of protein bars were displayed on your kitchen counters, two extra-large boxes of protein placed next to your fridge.

"Wow, sis, since when did you get into fitness so much?" your brother exclaimed, surprised at the sight of his sister's home.

Anger rushing through your body, you turned to San as he already felt what was coming his way.

"CHOI SAN! What is all of this??"

"Well, I just wanted to—"

"Do not even finish that sentence. This is all so unnecessary and expensive..."

"But you said your brother loves fitness and healthy food, and that he's also very protective, so," San said quietly, sad that he didn't receive the reaction that he was hoping for.

"Didn't you hear the part when I told you that he's also super sweet??" you asked, still annoyed, but a bit more calm, seeing his embarrassed state.

"No... well, kind of—but the other part scared me, so I had to be prepared," he replied, staring at the ground, his cheeks red from all of the embarrassment.

"Why did you describe me so harshly? San, don't worry, bro—I'm not like that. Y/n just loves to exaggerate"

"Hey, that's not true—I just didn't realise that I made you seem so horrible"

Your brother's words made San really happy, and he finally looked up, not feeling as embarrassed.

"Well, I'm sorry to both of you... I did go overboard," San apologised, and your eyes softened at his words.

"It's okay Sannie," you started, and he felt relieved to not hear his full name again. "...Actually, I'm the one that should apologise—I was too harsh on you," you said, and your brother just couldn't resist teasing you.

"That's right, poor San just tried to be nice"

"Oh shut up, don't get involved in my relationship—you just got here," you teased back, and San couldn't help but chuckle at your bickering.

Mingi

One of your closest cousins growing up texted you that he wants to see you, since the two of you hadn't hung out in a long time. You agreed to meet for lunch at a restaurant you'd been to with Mingi before, because you remembered that they had amazing food.

Going in, you sit at a table with a nice view and start ordering your food, chatting away.

While that was happening, on the other side of the restaurant, there was a person you knew all too well—and he had noticed you. It was Wooyoung.

His first instinct when he saw you giggling away with a guy that wasn’t Mingi was to call him and let him know about the situation.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at my studio, why?”

“Do you know where y/n is, by any chance?”

“Oh, she said she’s quite busy today, so I haven’t spoken to her yet—but what’s up with all these questions?”

“Well, I’m at your favourite burger restaurant, and I can see her from my table”

“Oh, really?! She’s there? She’s probably just getting some lunch”

“That’s not why I called, though—she’s having lunch with a guy”

“A guy? Do I know him?”

“I don’t think so, but they’re really hitting it off—she’s full-on giggles with him,” Wooyoung said, and Mingi’s blood started boiling.

“What?! She can’t be laughing at a random dude’s jokes—wait, is she cheating on me? That can’t be right, there haven’t been any signs whatsoever,” he said, anxiety and anger rushing through his body.

“I just think you should come over here”

“I'm already on my way, but she better not be cheating—otherwise, I’ll be heartbroken,” he said, then quickly hung up the phone.

After rushing to get to you, he dramatically walked into the restaurant, not a care in the world other than you.

“Y/n, how could you do this to me?! You’re the love of my life and I thought I was yours—but I see that I was wrong. How long has this been going on for? Who even is this guy?” Mingi said in a dramatic, loud voice with no breaks between his words, not giving you a chance to say even a word.

As he spoke, the whole restaurant became quieter, and the more nonsense he said, the more it got on your nerves—until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Song Mingi! Pull yourself together! What the hell are you talking about?! This is my cousin!” you exclaimed, and he froze in his place.

He wasn’t sure what to do—beat up Wooyoung or apologise and leave. He decided to go for the second option first, but he was definitely going to do the first one as well.

“Oh, uhm, I’m sorry… I just thought that—you know what, I’ll just leave,” he confessed, disappointed at his actions, and then turned to leave, embarrassed by the whole situation.

You excused yourself and followed him outside.

“Song Mingi, why did you do that? What happened?” you asked calmly now that you were outside, getting some fresh air.

“Please stop, don’t talk to me anymore…” he said, lips pouted.

“Why? I’m so confused”

“I’ll do the talking and explain everything… Wooyoung called me. He said you were here having lunch with a guy I don’t know, giggling at his jokes, and I just—what was I supposed to do? I needed to make sure I wasn’t losing you, so I came here and embarrassed myself,” he confessed cutely, making you regret how harsh you were with him at the start.

You found his reaction really sweet. And although he made a mistake, it was very adorable of him to go and fight for you.

“That’s so sweet—”

“Wait, before you say anything, I can take you being mad, I don’t even mind if you punch me or slap me, but please—don’t call me by my full name. It just hurts hearing you say it,” he pleaded, eyes glossy, almost like he was about to cry.

“I promise I won’t call you that again, and I’m not mad anymore. It wasn’t your fault—you were misled. I actually think what you did was adorable, Mingming”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, you silly boy. Now stop acting dramatic and come give me a kiss, I haven’t seen you all day,” you teased, and the usual smirk on his face returned within seconds.

Mingi approached you confidently, then placed his hands at your lower back, pulling you into a strong kiss.

“Now that this is sorted, I have one more piece of business to finish…” he said mysteriously, heading back into the restaurant.

…“WOOYOUNG!!”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung and the rest of the members were in the middle of a fun dance practice, just goofing around with the other dancers and practicing some moves.

Wanting to surprise him, you picked up some food and drinks for everyone and headed to their practice room.

Walking towards the room you could hear loud music blasting through the walls, making you think they were deep in a tough rehearsal—but you quickly realised you were wrong.

Opening the door, you were greeted with full-on chaos. Some guys were chasing each other, others doing karaoke, and then in the midst of it all was Wooyoung—testing your patience like never before.

By now, you should’ve been used to him doing that, but this time he was really doing too much.

There he was dancing in the center of the room with a girl, having the time of his life. Everyone else was watching and cheering them on—but not you.

You angrily dropped the bag of food on the ground, then stormed through everyone in the room, finally getting to Wooyoung.

“Oh hi, queen—”

“Jung Wooyoung! Outside, NOW!” you snapped, and the whole room went silent.

You pulled his arm and yanked him out the door, leaving him with no time to react.

“Wow, I haven’t heard that name in a while—what’s wrong? Why the sudden attack?”

“What’s wrong?! Are you seriously asking me this?”

“I have an idea... but you know I wouldn’t cheat. So, it must be something else”

“I know you wouldn’t. But dancing like that with a girl who's clearly into you? She’s definitely going to try and kiss you, stealing you away from me!”

“Ohh, I see... my queen is a little jealous," he said with a mischievous look.

“Of course I am! Who does this girl think she is…”

“She’s no one. You know I wouldn’t let her kiss me or flirt with me, right? I mean, I can play around, but there’s a limit”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you said, finally calming down.

“One thing though—if you’re mad at her, why scream at me?”

“Well... I don’t know. It just makes more sense?” you mumbled, feeling self-aware.

“Yeah, right," he chuckled. "Actually, you made me realise something… I think you should call me by my full name more often. It’s kind of growing on me,” he confessed with a smirk.

“Really? You want me to call you Jung Wooyoung?”

“Yeah, why not? It shows the authority you have over me. That’s why I call you my queen, right?” he flirted, and once again didn’t fail in making you flustered.

No more words were needed, as the two of you went in for a kiss, closing the distance between you.

Jongho

You and Jongho were in your shared bedroom. You were scrolling on your phone, as Jongho played his favourite video game.

“Yess! I’m so good at this,” Jongho suddenly exclaimed after winning a round of the game.

After another few comments like this, you were done with his cockiness. You were more than ready to humble him.

As he just finished another round, you scoffed loudly, getting his attention.

“What’s your problem, dumpling?” he asked, turning around.

“I’m not your dumpling, I’m your rival…” After a moment of silence, Jongho started laughing.

“Oh wow, that’s so scary,” he teased, leaving you more annoyed than ever.

“Choi Jongho! Do not tease me, because you will regret it!”

“Choi who? Who is that?”

“A person that’ll get humbled really quickly”

“I doubt it, but since you’re prepared to lose—let’s play,” he further fuelled your anger, and you grabbed the other controller, plopping yourself next to him at the edge of the bed.

“I hope you’re prepared for what’s coming your way, Choi Jongho,” you confronted.

“Don’t worry about me so much, and focus on yourself, y/n y/l/n,” he replied.

After a long, dramatic game, you accomplished your mission, and you could just see the shock on his face.

“I hope you learned your lesson, sir—never tease me again”

Being faced with the facts and surprised by your gaming abilities, all he could do was accept the fact that he lost.

“I’ve definitely learned my lesson, dumpling—congrats on your win,” Jongho said as he faced you, and bowed slightly with his head.

“Can I stop being Choi Jongho now?”

“Uhmm…okay, I won already, so you’re not a rival anymore”

“Wow, thank you for kindness,” he joked, and you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome, honey bear!” you exclaimed with a smile, and he couldn’t help but feel happy at being called his usual pet name, showing off his gummy smile.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Tied Up (John Walker)

Description: Y/N asks Yelena to tie John up for her after he tells her he’s never going to be submissive.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,206

John laid in his bed on his phone while Y/N stared up at the ceiling, a lot on her mind. John was in a better place since The New Avengers became a thing and he got a beautiful girlfriend. Y/N struggled with something that she’s kept to herself for so long and wasn’t sure how to bring it up. She wanted to take their sex life to a whole different level but John was difficult with that. He liked to be dominant and wouldn’t even think to be submissive.

But a year back when Bucky had tied everyone up she remembered how hot she thought he looked tied up and needed to have it happen again. “Are you okay?” John asked her as she barely blinked. She looked over at him, “Yeah.” He shook his head and turned to her, “You’re lying I can tell.” He said and she rubbed her eyes. He would just laugh at her and tell her it’s funny. “I-“ but it was hard to get out. He was waiting and raised his eyebrows, “Baby just tell me.” He said and she turned to him, “over a year ago when Bucky tied us up, you remember that?” She asked and he nodded.

She looked down, “I thought seeing you tied up was hot.” She mumbled but he heard it. “Really?” He asked and she nodded. Her face was red and she was very embarrassed. “Good luck with that.” He said and she looked at him, “You won’t make it happen?” She asked and he shook his head. “I’ll tie you up but I’m not being tied up.” He told her. She knew that would happen, he didn’t like being submissive. 

“Yelena, do you think you could do me a favor?” Y/N asked her friend who was eating cereal the next morning. “What is it?” She asked, mouth full of cereal. “Can you tie John up for me?” Yelena nearly spit out her cereal at the question. “Why?” She asked. Y/N looked away from her friend, “You’re stronger than me.” “No I mean why do you want him tied up?” She asked and Y/N sat across from her. “Between us, he refuses to submit to me in the bedroom.” Y/N and Yelena had a good friendship so Y/N didn’t hide things from her.

Yelena wanted to laugh but that made sense. John seemed like he would hate being told what to do even if it was sexually. “So you want me to tie him up for you?” She pointed her spoon at Y/N, who nodded. “If that’s okay…” Y/N wanted to make sure that Yelena was comfortable doing that given the reason. She shrugged, “Why not?” Y/N was shocked, “Really?” Yelena nodded and stood up with her bowl. “Just keep the noise down, you guys are very loud.” Y/N’s face went red and she nodded. 

“What the fuck, Yelena?” John asked as she tied the super soldier up. “You tricked me!” He exclaimed as she tightened the rope some. “Your girlfriend asked me to do this. Who am I to say No?” He looked confused, Y/N asked her to do this? Why would she- but he remembered the conversation from a week ago where she admitted that she found it hot when he was tied up. He glared up at Yelena, “you have to let me go.” He said and she shook her head. “Will not be but please be quiet.” She said and left the room, John yelling her name.

“He’s all yours.” Yelena told Y/N as she walked by. Y/N entered the room to see John tied up and she really wanted to laugh. He looked so angry, so annoyed and so hot. He glared at her, “You really asked Yelena to tie me up for sex?” He was pissed. Y/N shrugged, “It was either her or Bucky. Which one would you rather me ask?” He groaned and threw his head back, “Y/N, are sex life is great, why try to change that?” She walked closer to him, “It has nothing to do with our sex life, it’s how hot you look.” In any other case, this would boost John’s ego but right now he was too pissed.

”I get to do whatever I want to you and you can’t do a thing about it.” She teased and ran her hand down his torso, causing him to hold his breath. “Is that really so bad? Me sucking your dick, pleasing you over and over again until you break. I want to see you cry, John.” She spoke as she got closer to his crotch. He was hard and that made her smirk as she cupped him, “So you are enjoying this?” She asked as she sank to her knees. He watched as she pulled down his pants and freed his dick.

Her mouth watered at the sight but she wanted to play with him, “I want you to beg me,John.” She made eye contact with him and wrapped her hand around him. He nearly bucked his hips into her hand. “N-No.” He stuttered out as she slowly jerked him off. Her hand was soft and felt amazing stroking him but he wasn’t going to beg. “John, you could have already had an orgasm if you would’ve just begged me.” She sighed, not feeling bad for him at all. Though her voice pitied him. “You just want me to be submissive.” He groaned as she sped up a little bit.

He wanted so bad to move his hips but anything he would do she would slow down her movements. “All you have to do is say please and my mouth will be on your cock.” She tells him as her hand slowly strokes him. He shook his head, he wasn’t going to give in. She made eye contact with him and leaned in, licking the tip of his dick. He sucked in a breath, not expecting her to do that. “Come on, Johnny.” She winked at him and gave his tip another lick. “Give in to me. Let me please you, baby.” She whispered and teased him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, was he really about to do this? “Please.” It wasn’t believable, it sounded like he was bored while saying it. She shook her head, “Not good enough.” She said and backed away from him. “What? What do you mean?” He asked, desperate for her touch. “You need to actually beg, John.” She told him and went to leave the room. “Wait please. Please touch me, baby.” She smirked as she turned around, there it was. He looked so needy, it was so hot.

She walked back up to him and got back on her knees. His eyes no longer held the dominance in them that he tried so hard to keep. “There you go.” She cooed and jerked him off a few times before giving him what he wanted. John usually wasn’t the loud one out of the two, sure he would let out grunts and groans but it was rare that he would moan or anything like that. Right now, he was a moaning mess. Her mouth worked on his cock, while her hand played with his balls, “Fuck.” He groaned and she hummed against him. His eyes nearly rolled and he was so close.

He would have felt embarrassed about how fast he was going to cum if it wasn’t for the fact that she was giving him the best head of his life. The only downside to this was that he couldn’t grab her hair or hold her there. She felt him twitch in her mouth so she pulled away, “What?” John asked, defeated that she wasn’t letting him cum. She stood up and removed her shorts, “I need you inside of me.” She told him and rid herself of her clothes. John’s eyes widened at her naked body, which he’s seen a million times by now. “Now am I gonna have to say it or do you already know?” She asked him. He already knew and at this point he’s lost all the self respect he’s had for himself. “Please Baby, I need to feel your pussy around me as I cum.” He was pathetic but that’s how she liked him.

She walked up to him and ran her hand through his hair, his head falling against it like a cat. “Such a pretty boy.” She hummed as he got needier and needier for her touch. “Please.” He whispered and she smirked. She straddled him and ran her hands down his chest, “I guess I can give you what you want.” She acted as if this wasn’t killing her as well. His jaw dropped as he felt her sinking on to him, her warmth closed around him as he tried not to moan. She saw this and shook her head, “I’ll get up if you try to hide those beautiful noises.” She warned and he nodded, not wanting to disobey her.

She bit her lip as she took his fat cock in her, for the first time on her own terms and it felt great. She let out a breath as she was fully sat on him, “Feels so good.” She whispers and he tries to thrust up but she stops him, grabbing his throat. His eyes widened but he felt more turned on than before, “I control the pace, understand Johnny?” He nodded, not having any words. “Good.” She smiled and slowly moved her hips. It was killing him, her pace and how she was tormenting him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she stared him in the eyes as she bounced on his cock.

His face was red and sweaty as he was ready to cry for his release but he still wasn’t going to give her everything she wanted. Each bounce was a soft moan from them, “Fuck.” She moaned and she picked up the pace. He wished so badly that could grab her hips and slam her down onto his cock, even just to touch her would be nice. “Faster.” He begged without meaning to and she smirked. She was now fully riding him as fast as she could and yet somehow it wasn’t enough for him. It was hot to see her ride him but his super soldier strength could be used to make them cum so much faster. “You should let me-” but his voice trailed off, lost in the pleasure.

She waited for him to finish but he didn’t, causing her to stop. “No. Don’t stop. Please.” He nearly cried and that surprised her. “What were you gonna say?” She asked, ignoring him. “Let me fuck you, please! My super strength can help us.” He tried but she just rolled her eyes at him. “John, the whole point of this was so you don’t have any control or advantage.” She points out. He understood that but didn’t care, “You have had control, this entire time!” He whined and that made her fake pout. “Aww and you don’t like that very much, do you?” She teased as her hands ran through his hair.

His face dropped and his eyes went dark, “I can break through these ropes, I wouldn’t test me.” He warned her. She smirked, “Yeah right.” She tested but moved her hips. His hands aching to touch her. A part of her wanted him to try and break out, fully aware that he wasn’t bluffing but maybe she liked him in control more. She would never admit that to him like he wouldn’t admit that he was enjoying this. But good things must come to an end, he managed to break out of the ropes while she was riding him, causing her to gasp.

He stood up with her and slammed her against the nearest wall, “You’ve had your fun.” He growled and started thrusting hard. She couldn’t even argue with him as he was hitting her g spot. Her whines and cries of his name echoed off the walls as he grunted and groaned in her neck. He was right about his super soldier speed being able to help, it was a lot better. “Thinkin’ you can control me like your bitch? I’ll have news for you baby, I let you have your fun but that was it.” He groaned in her ear. “I fuck you so good and that’s why you’ll never even think about being dominant towards me again.” Everything he was saying was making her eyes roll. He was right, this was better than anything she was doing prior. “John.” She cried as she felt herself near the edge. “Yeah, scream my name baby. Let everyone know who’s the submissive one.” He chuckled and she did just that. 

Yelena stared at her friend across the table with her arms crossed, “You promised you’d be quiet.” She said and Y/N gave her a guilty look. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go that way and he got out of the ropes.” Y/N tried to reason with her but she held up her hands, “Any excuse to get fucked in the gym right?” Y/N turned red. She did always appreciate when John would fuck her after training there.

[inseparabiles]

Tried to answer this but it's too presumptive as to what an inner world is, imho, so I can't proceed past part two;

first issue - "what level of communication do separate inner worlds have" makes no sense, I'm not sure what this even means. That there are separate inner worlds running at once and people are simultaneously active in them and communicating across some kind of barriers? Because this isn't at all how inner worlds function for us, but the answer cannot be "none, barriers or issues prevent communication", because there aren't issues preventing it, rather the condition which would enable this to be happening doesn't exist and I have no parallel to this that would enable answering the question in any meaningful, non-randomised manner.

Moved on with "okay" communication nevertheless because there may be some issues or not with accessing spaces occupied by some parts but most proceed well when they want to chat, which seemed the closest equivalent, however,

hit next with "how big is your system's inner world", which assumes that the inner world is a connected and stable state of some kind, rather than the way it is for us, which is separate spaces not connected to each other or in any way forming an overarching location or world, therefore one could be the size of the universe and another the size of a room and these things have nothing to do with one another nor do they exist in any particular relation to each other aside from both being spaces that our system inhabits.

Also, if answering "one universe" or "multiple universes", what is the definition of a universe? What is a universe in this context?

So - there seems to be a bias inherent to the questionnaire as to what a system's inner world is which then locks out those systems whose inner worlds don't follow that pattern.

survey on inner worlds in plurality

important edit:

REMEMBER TO READ THE SECTION DESCRIPTIONS CAREFULLY. Many of you have told me there are no options for “N/A” on the rating questions, however we have stated that you should use the lowest rating (one) in that case.

🩵🩵🩵

the interstellar cluster presents to you...

a survey on inner worlds in plurality!

this is our first plural survey but we hope y'all have fun answering these questions.

results will be posted after submissions end in three weeks (30th of May), so give or take a few days around that date to organise the data.

it's quite long, but we put the questions in sections so hopefully it doesn't feel as long as it is.

please reblog to push this further, we're aiming for at least 25 responses! :D

[germesthegenie]

Ward Era Tattletale has a coat in my head

Finished Ward Arc 11 (plus the rest of Arc 10), thoughts below:

The Rest of Arc 10

Damsel, Swansong, and Victoria sharing an apartment together feels like a good setup for a sitcom

Wonder if the Anelace subplot’s gonna go anywhere. Kinda interesting to have a love interest not even in the main group (as opposed to Rachel Brian), but also that’s a recipe for a fairly irrelevant one most of the time.

(10.12) “Some of my allies were shot” IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO THE MAJOR MALFUNCTIONS I WILL-

(10.12) If these are the anti-parahuman people, I’m starting to wonder if it’s a psyop play to just make the opposition to parahuman rule look ridiculous and violent.

(10.13) Ah, so Theo reminded us some people deserve being beaten up so we could have Antares go pretty brutal on these guys

Close enough, welcome back Hatchet Face. Admittedly cooler because its actually fair

(10.13) Sveta :( it really was self defense bc damn these assassins were no joke

Finale’s wail formed the bulk of the background noise.  I spared a glance, even though I didn’t want to see.  Her teammates were hurt, not dead

(10.13) DO NOT TOY WITH ME LIKE THAT WILDBOW

(10.13) So probably not the anti parahumans, but doesn’t quite seem like Teacher either, at least not his power.

(10.y) Chris living the baby turtle experience and having a million things trying to kill him from the moment of birth lmao

(10.y) Lab Rat? The ball?? How far ahead was Wildbow setting up Ward damn

(10.y) Is that the most direct Taylor cameo so far? Original Lab Rat was kinda funny for pausing in the middle of passing out these devices at the end of the world to go “hehe bug box for the bug girl”

(10.y) Also yeah he definitely won the bet

(10.y) Amy. Amy you better not be considering that latter offer. AMY-

Interesting backstory for Chris overall. Looks like he’ll be building something up in the background for now

(10.z) Chicken Little really is the Telemachus to Taylor’s Odysseus (in the Epic the Musical sense). Inexperienced, but with a similar spirit in some ways, and kinder heart.

The Heartbroken kids also seem neat. Liking the variety in the powers, the similarities to Regent, Cherie, and Heartbreaker are there but they still stand out.

(10.z) The kids are friends yay! Now I’m reminded of the post I saw before about the Undersiders and the Brockton Wards if Imp and Vista became friends and the groups had to be begrudgingly friendly to each other as a result. Is that whats in store for Breakthrough?

(10.z) CHICKEN LARGE?? Please let nothing bad happen to this boy 😭

(10.z) Tattletale really in her mom era. Again, third time’s the charm hopefully

(10.z) Bogeyman captured?? Contessa what are you cooking?

(10.z) Also Dinah compromised??

Arc 11

I like how Victoria’s aura makes her more intimidating, Goddess’ aura makes her worshipped, and Rain’s aura makes him look like even more of a pathetic wet cat (ik thats not the only thing it does but its funny)

Some rather dark tactics on Victoria’s part to get Bitter Pill’s team to abide by her terms. Still a long way to go to reach Taylor’s war crime count, though

Kenzie’s reaction to the news about Chris :(

Also damn didn’t think about the implications of “the transformations don’t undo all the way” thing of Chris’ when it comes to Lab Rat’s victims. Wonder if he ever got framed for the C53s like Manton was

(11.3) The Ashley-Damsel-Victoria roommate situation continues to sound like a sitcom, too bad it sounds like its coming to an end

Oh no what awful person would do this to Victoria’s stuff- oh hi Imp!! nvm she deserves to do a little arson /s

I was wondering there for a second like “hey Wildbow why are you going so overboard on the scene breaks” but now it makes sense

(11.3) Not Chicken Little sharing sensitive documents over earth gimel’s facebook messenger 😭

Ah I missed how funny Imp is

(11.3) I’m guessing this is where all the Imp/Vista stuff comes from? Does seem like the most likely of the Brockton Bay Wards (aside from maybe like Kid Win). Though considering it’s Imp saying it, there’s like a 50% chance she’s bullshitting to throw off Victoria. Funny if true though

Sidepiece’s interlude has exactly the blend of wholesome, sad, and freaky I expected from the character

(11.a) “Romantic but in a platonic way” exactly what I’d expect atp Mr Mccrae

(11.4) Time bubbled people getting similar blindspots to Eidolon, GU, and the Endbringers? That can’t be good

(11.4) Weld. Weld. My boy. My temporary fav post-Amy pre-Cuff. The fuck are you doing???

Like I get it. He has his own wants, he simply isn’t built freaky enough. It isn’t a Parahumans couple without something being messed up (unless you’re Golem/Cuff). There have to better ways of handling things than just dumping the poor girl, though. Also hopefully imagining things but is there some kind of setup being done between Weld and Victoria? The whole “forcefield made him feel something” bit? Please no. If there’s anyone in this couple she’s getting with post breakup, it aint you my guy

(11.5) Oh boy the Heartbroken are like having 3-4 freakier Alecs (the older ones anyway, the kids skew more Aisha-like). Poor Rain. But also like nice he has people who can somewhat relate to him

(11.5) Victoria witnessing average hormonal teen behavior: “This must be the work of an enemy stand cape”

(11.5) Well, about time we get the “midgame rematch with the starting boss you lost to” moment

(11.6) …What the fuck

(11.6) Victoria getting tricked by a decently observant child: “This must be the work of a Thinker”

(11.6) Victoria thats bank fraud

(11.6) WHY DOES HE TYPE LIKE THAT 😭

(11.6) Never trusting a fridge in a parahumans story what the hell is this

(11.6) Suddenly glad Golem and Cuff aren’t more prevalent if this is how they’re treating rebel-sqrrl’s faves damn (oh nvm this is one of her favorite arcs apparently)

(11.7) “I think there are lines” he says as he becomes a bunch of lines Lord of Loss is so funny actually

(11.8) Wildbow this is the third mpreg power you’ve made, is there something you want to share with the class 🤨

(11.8) I feel like between the Goddess stuff and Rain’s aura that Victoria associating all doubts with powers is gonna either be really handy or really bad for her self control

(11.8) Terrible day to have eyes and ears to read this chapter good lord

(11.8) What do you mean Lord of Loss is 30??? Typing like that as a grown ass man????

Also people joke about Taylor killing a baby (who was actually a toddler by that time) meanwhile Victoria is out here actually killing a fetus and we have no funny “Slaughterhouse Nine and Under” jokes for her smh 😔 as far as I’ve seen anyway

(11.b) Nailbiter really just trauma dumping to this kid and then went “anyway, drugs?”

(11.b) Oh, guess it was good timing to research Breaker triggers. Assuming that’s what Colt has now. Interesting thing with the “greater power over a pit”. Would taking that have been the difference between whatever she got and a Broken Trigger?

(11.c) Darlene vs Operator Red was neat. Bro got killed by a kid with no weapons whatever Thinker rating he was knock it down by 1 😭

(11.c) I should be horrified at what happened to Capricorn and Tattletale but all I can think of is how cool that basically lightsaber whip is and how it’d be way cooler if wielded by anyone but Cradle

(11.9) Ok now that is a scary power. PTSD beam that puts voices in your head for 3 months. The fact the voices still behave like the person as you remember them and not just being angry is interesting

(11.9) Rachel!! I love the sharp contrast of her siccing her dog on the mercenary immediately followed by being Good Auntie Rachel to the Heartbroken. She’s come so far from how she was in Early Worm, but is still recognizably Rachel. Taylor would be proud

(11.9) Welp, should’ve figured Coil’s mercs (if they haven’t all been replaced by this point) wouldn’t stay loyal once the money stopped coming in. Same reason they betrayed their old boss, after all

Return to Brockton Bay! Should’ve seen it coming with all the reunions leading up to this. Hoping for more Golem there in that case

(11.10) Colt got added to the mall group chat??

(11.11) Foil using guns by shooting the bullets through a hole in her hand?? Taken up Grue’s/Skitter’s role as the Undersiders’ Crazy Ass

Speaking of Taylor, she would be like almost fully unfazed by getting Cradled. Just reforms herself and speaks using the bugs. Would suck for Brian though having his senses spread out in several pieces would be horrifically familiar.

(11.11) Yknow what back in Arc 1 I thought Carol would remain at least like top 3 hated characters until the end but she’s getting pushed out of top 10 jfc Cradle?? Love Lost?? Not even to Rain, literally kids, kids who were already incapacitated or surrendered????

(11.12) Vista with an empty Earth practically has worldedit damn.

Looks like a hell of an upcoming arc. Lets look at the table of contents… Starting off with an interlude? 12.All?? 12.None??? This is about to go crazy isn’t it

[brittle-doughie]

[Mini-Heartbreak: Close Encounters of the Heartbroken Kind]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You wake up groggily to an interrogation room, with a table and chair opposite to you on the other side before you. A closed blinds window at the far back of the room with a door next to it. A single light was hanging from the ceiling, only brightening the spot you were in.

“H-huh? Where am I?”

You tried to remember what happened. The last thing you could remember was heading into the Jade Galaxy Diner for some noodles and you just blacked out after some point…

But why…?

The door at the back of the room opens to reveal a suited Cookie you were familiar with…

“Agent Jjajang Cookie?”

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was afraid I added too much of the knockout agent to your noodles.”

“You tainted my noodles?”

“It was the only way I could bring you into custody without drawing too much unwanted attention. A scene would only make things complicated.”

Agent Jjajang had reached the table and placed her steel carrier on it.

“Custody?! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“That might seem like it to you, but I’ve been having surveillance on you for weeks now. You’re currently under suspicion of plotting something no good against CASSA!”

“Plotting something?! Where’s your evidence! Where’s your proof?”

“Don’t worry, I took the liberty of having an interrogation with your friend. She was cooperative and it was handled with no issue.”

“You leave her out of this! Say what you will to me, but she had nothing to do with what you’re talking about!”

Agent Jjajang narrowed her eyes at your insisted defense for your friend, as if it affected her in a personal way…

“You seem willing to defend her about this. I had to cover all bases when it comes to suspected alien Cookies, that included any possible loose ends.”

“Loose ends….IF YOU HAD HURT HER-“

“Don’t worry. Like I said, she was cooperative. She is in custody though.”

“Just let her go…she’s innocent in all this. She’s my friend, I can’t let her suffer for what I had done-“

Agent Jjajang had enough of you mentioning your friend and slammed her hand on the table in frustration.

“THIS ISN’T ABOUT HER!”

She scowled at you for a moment before sighing to calm down.

“It’s been about you. It always had been…”

“What are you saying?”

“……”

“I still remember the day, when you first walked into the diner.”

Agent Jjajang walked to you, getting on one knee to get eyecing-level with you. A down expression on her face.

“You would wait until I was available to order from the menu. The way you looked at me as you order, I shouldn’t had let it bother me as much as it did…”

“But I did. I’d find myself looking back at you, you being an alien Cookie not mattering to me. I’d even wait for you to walk in so I could take your order right away…”

“And then…”

“And then you asked me to an evening out. I didn’t know how to respond to that. An alien Cookie, asking ME out…”

“So it was me being an alien…”

“NO! No, no. That wasn’t it! I just..didn’t know what to say, I panicked and just walked away from you…”

“…What’s the point in telling me this”

“The point is…I’m sorry. I wanted to make up for it when you walked in the next day, but then you started going to other restaurants, and meeting her…”

You can sense the tension in her voice as she brings up your friend. She closed her eyes and sighed before looking back at you, pulling out a flashlight.

“I had to come up with a way to bring you back to me, so I offered a free noodle bowl on the house. And now that you’re here…”

She turned on the flashlight and aimed the light at your face.

“You are going to tell me EVERYTHING about you. Do not leave any details out! Let us get to know each other better here…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[heliosunny]

Since you did the Honkai 3rd boys for Lucky egg, how about Otto for this series if it's okay? I can already smell the scary shit this man bout to do 😭

If not him then either Kaveh or Alhaitham will do (I hope it isn't demanding, I genuinely enjoy your writing and the lucky egg series)

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Otto Apocalypse x Reader

No one really knew where the machine came from. One day, it just appeared, gleaming under the spring sun in the city’s central square. Children clustered around it. Teenagers lined up. Even adults gathered to watch it.

“Lucky Egg Dispenser– A Companion Chosen by Fate.”

That was all.

Everyone said it was harmless fun. A magical pet, maybe a servant, maybe something more. It was all random, luck and chance.

You tried your luck. You didn’t expect much, but when you turned the crank, a shimmering white-gold egg rolled into your hands. Something about it made your heart whisper: this is yours.

But trouble noticed too.

“Oh. Wow. That’s a good one.”

You turned. Seraphina D’Argent. You recognized her instantly, the polished shoes, the designer coat, the effortless arrogance. She was flanked by two assistants, a chauffeur hovering behind her.

She held her own egg, dull and brown, with a couple of jagged marks across its shell.

Her eyes locked on yours.

“Well, looks like the machine glitched.”

“Uh. No, I don’t think so.”

She laughed a little, tucking her hair behind her ear. “No offense, but... I don’t think you’re the type it was meant for. Why don’t we trade?” She held out her egg like it was a generous offer.

You shook your head. “I don’t think it works that way. I think... the egg chooses. Not the other way around.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Before you could react, her assistant stepped forward and reached out. You took a step back, but the man was quick. He grabbed your wrist and pried the egg from your hand.

“Don’t make a scene,” Seraphina said. “It’s not worth the trouble. I can give you mine, and maybe even pay you for the inconvenience, alright?”

You looked at the cracked egg she shoved into your hands. It was colder. But you knew what would happen if you resisted further. Her father owned half the district. The other half owed him favors.

So you said nothing.

“Good choice.”

She walked off, cradling the egg like it was her birthright.

You were left standing there with the egg and the quiet, awful sense that something important had been taken from you.

The next three days passed in a blur.

You brought the egg home, uncertain if anything would hatch at all. But it did, one morning, as sunlight streamed through your window.

A boy sat on the floor, staring up at you. He looked delicate, but there was something old in the way he moved.

“My name is Joachim” he said. “I was sent to you.”

In that same day, in the grand marble atrium of the D’Argent estate, your egg hatched.

Otto Apocalypse opened his eyes, and he immediately sensed it, something viscerally wrong.

“You’re even more beautiful in person!” Seraphina said, stepping toward him. “I knew you were special. I just knew it.”

Otto’s expression didn’t change. He tilted his head. “You are..?”

By nightfall, the D’Argent estate was silent. Otto stood amidst shattered glass and blood-slick marble, dabbing at the crimson staining his collar with the same detached precision one might use to brush away dust.

You woke that night with a chill creeping down your spine.

Joachim sat at the foot of your bed, his eyes locked on the door as if expecting something to burst through. When he noticed you stirring, his voice came out low.

“Is something wrong?”

You swallowed. “No… nothing.”

---- Joachim wasn’t like a normal child. From the moment he hatched, there was a strange, almost eerie intelligence in him, like his thoughts were always two steps ahead of yours.

He learned quickly. Within days, he began handling small things for you: running errands to the corner shop, organizing books, even fixing the broken kitchen drawer. It was easy to forget sometimes that he’d come from an egg, like a pet or a servant. He felt like a… quiet constant in your life.

But something had changed lately.

He became tense when walking past the windows. He’d pause, tilt his head slightly, then resume as if calculating something. At first, you thought he was just daydreaming.

Then one afternoon, when he came back from picking up tea and milk, he stopped in the doorway.

“There was someone standing by the side of the house” he said, “They disappeared when I got close.”

You looked up from your book. “Did you see who it was?”

“No,” Joachim answered. “But they stood very still. Like they were watching.”

You frowned and went to the window, pulling aside the curtain.

The yard was empty. Just wind, rustling leaves, and the streetlamp flickering in the distance.

“There’s no one out there.”

Joachim didn’t move from the doorway. “They left when I arrived. But they’ll come back...”

You looked over at him, startled by the certainty in his tone.

That night, the house felt unusually quiet.

Dinner passed in the usual way. Joachim always ate exactly enough, no more, no less. You noticed the way he glanced at the window now and then, but he didn’t speak of it again.

Later, after the dishes were done and the rain had started to fall gently against the windows, you curled up on the couch with one of his new books. It wasn’t anything you would’ve picked, honestly—Foundations of Probability and Chaos in Structured systems. You didn’t even know where he’d found it, but when you asked what he wanted from the bookstore, he pointed right at it.

Now, he sat curled neatly on the floor beside you, his hands in his lap. He didn’t look at you while you read, but you could tell he was listening.

You cleared your throat and continued:

“‘In a system without outside interference, patterns tend to stabilize. But when an unpredictable variable is introduced, one with high entropy, the structure begins to break down. Not due to internal failure, but because the system was never built to handle chaos masquerading as control.’”

You paused. Glanced down.

Joachim looked… content, somehow. As if this cold logic brought him comfort in a way emotion never could.

“You really like this stuff, huh?”

He nodded slightly. “Because it explains things people don’t want to explain. Most people are afraid of patterns breaking.”

You stared at him for a moment. His words weren’t childish at all.

“You’re a little scary sometimes” you said, but smiled as you said it.

He looked up at you. “I’m only trying to protect what matters.”

You reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Sleep soon.” you said, closing the book.

Joachim gave a quiet nod. “Yes. But we should check the locks again.”

“Still thinking about the person from earlier?”

“Yes...”

Far from your house, beneath the cover of dusk and rain, Otto walked. He knew you were near. He could feel you. The first one to touch the egg. He couldn't be wrong.

----

You had spent the morning tidying up. Joachim, of course, had taken one of his usual errands to the bookstore. You’d given him a pouch to pay for whatever he likes.

You were just rinsing out a cup when you heard the latch on the door click.

You turned, half expecting to see Joachim. Instead, there was a man.

He stood just inside your living room. His hair, impossibly blonde, looked like it was spun from fine thread.

You stumbled back, “Who are—how did you get in here?”

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, “It’s me. I’m home.”

You had never seen this man in your life.

“Get out!” you said, reaching behind you blindly for the knife.

“Please,” he murmured, coming closer. “It’s me. Otto. Don’t you remember? From the machine?”

“No, I never... You’re not supposed to be here!”

“You’re confused. It’s alright. I can explain everything. Once you remember—”

Before he could finish, something heavy slammed into his temple.

A book, held by Joachim, struck Otto hard enough to knock him sideways.

“Stranger-”

You stood there frozen, while Otto groaned faintly on the floor. You couldn’t believe he was already getting up—as if a direct hit to the head meant nothing to him.

“He’ll wake up soon,” Joachim added, “We need to bind him.”

You didn’t even question it. You ran to the hallway closet, dug out the old rope you’d never used, and together, you and Joachim dragged Otto’s body to the kitchen chair.

“I can explain.” he whispered.

Joachim stepped between you immediately.

“You’re not wanted here.”

Otto didn’t even look at him.

He was staring at you.

“You are my rightful owner.”

“Right... then what am I?” Joachim said.

Otto tilted his head slightly. “No one.”

Neither of you said anything for a minute.

You swallowed. “You weren’t meant for me.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Joachim, calm as ever, turned slightly toward you. “What do you want to do?”

You stared at Otto, who is now bound to the chair by restraints. You took a seat across from him—not too close, setting a low table and a cold cup of tea between you like some perverse peace offering.

Joachim lingered nearby, not quite at your side but close enough that his presence was a threat. His eyes never left Otto, sharp and unblinking, the way a hawk watches a wounded rabbit.

Finally, you spoke. “So you’re saying that I should accept you? How is that even possible? I already have Joachim.”

“I have to remind you that you didn’t trade your egg willingly. You hesitated because you felt the connection before reason could interfere. That’s what matters.”

“That connection doesn’t mean he belongs here.” Joachim added.

Otto glanced at him.

“I understand your role. You’re merely my replacement.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “But you’re not me.”

Otto turned his attention back to you. “I’m not here to threaten you. I just want to return to my owner.”

“By breaking into my home?”

“You didn’t exactly leave a door open for conversation.”

That stung a little. Because it wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Let me stay.”

Joachim stepped forward instantly. “No.”

You raised a hand to stop him.

Otto continued. “You don’t have to trust me immediately. You can keep the restraints. But I only want a chance to exist in the space that should have been mine.”

You looked at him for a long moment.

Joachim spoke again, quieter now. “If you let him stay, he won’t leave. You know that, right?”

“I do.” you murmured.

Otto didn’t interrupt.

You weren’t stupid. Letting him stay meant inviting a problem into your life that couldn’t be solved with locks and rules. But you also knew something else:

He had been meant for you.

That truth was quietly sitting in your chest like a weight.

The apartment lights had dimmed into their nighttime setting. Otto sat rigid in the chair, the binding cable cutting into his wrists, skin mottled from the pressure. Sweat gleamed on his neck, but he stayed silent.

You studied him. He hadn’t met your eyes since his last statement since you’d refused to answer.

Joachim lounged on the couch beside you, arms crossed, gaze locked on Otto like a sniper.

Eventually, you stood up without a word and walked over to Otto. He stiffened immediately, like prey expecting a final blow.

You adjusted the rope, just enough to ease the pressure, not enough to free him. Back on the couch, you dragged the blanket over both yourself and Joachim.

“I’m not leaving.”

Joachim shot him a glance. “Y/N doesn’t want you here.”

“They haven’t told me to leave.”

Joachim’s voice sharpened. “That’s not the same as being wanted.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

You didn’t say anything else.

You were tired.

Eventually, you leaned your head on Joachim’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The blanket shifted slightly as he adjusted to your weight. He stayed still after that.

You woke up some hours later.

It was still dark.

The two are still fighting.

“…You’re clinging to function,” Otto was saying. “Not purpose.”

Joachim replied, “Function is purpose when you’re protecting someone.”

“You’re trying to replace what was lost,” Otto said quietly. “I’m restoring what was never supposed to be taken.”

You didn’t move. You just listened.

“And what happens if Y/N picks me?”

Otto didn’t answer immediately.

“They won’t.”

Neither of them realized you were awake.

By morning, you moved around the kitchen, making two cups of coffee, one for yourself, and one you instinctively handed to Joachim, still on the couch. He accepted it, his eyes flicking to Otto every few minutes.

Otto watched the two of you.

Removing him won’t be enough.

Otto had already imagined it.

Joachim's body hit the floor with a sickening thud, his temple striking the edge of the glass coffee table. The impact sent a spiderweb of cracks through the tempered surface, jagged lines radiating from where his skull connected. Blood seeped into the carpet fibers.

The scene was almost artistic in its plausibility.

But utterly useless.

Because grief would only chain you to him tighter.

And Otto couldn’t afford your grief.

What he needed was not subtraction.

He needed displacement.

You must turn away from him yourself.

He could do that.

He had time.

Later that day, you brought Otto a protein pack and untied his hands long enough for him to eat. He didn’t try anything. Just thanked you, sincerely, then folded his hands in his lap again.

That was the first moment he touched you. And it was subtle, so subtle you might not have noticed, but Otto felt the link spark beneath the skin.

There it is.

A master-servant conduit that had never been properly formed—because he had been stolen before it could bloom.

-----

At first, you thought he’d just gone out to think. Maybe to walk, or to breathe air that didn’t belong to the same room as Joachim’s constant glares.

But when Otto didn’t return that night, you began to worry.

By the second day, worry turned into guilt.

He’d been unpredictable, yes. But he hadn’t hurt anyone. He hadn’t even resisted when you left him unattended for minutes at a time. He ate quietly. He answered your questions when asked.

Joachim noticed your silence immediately. “It’s better this way.”

You didn’t argue.

----

Elsewhere.

Otto stood under the shuddering blue glow of a fractured dungeon rift—deep beneath the outer districts.

He wiped the blood from his cheek with his sleeve.

[UNLOCKED: Chrono Reversion Core] STATUS: 9.3% charged

Otto smiled to himself.

He hadn’t given up. He had simply seen a better path.

To rewrite the moment that went wrong.

All he needed was power.

He picked up the shattered core of a high-level anomaly and watched it flicker in his hand. The energy pulsed faintly.

It would do.

He closed his fist around the core. The interface updated again.

STATUS: 11.6% charged.

Still a long way to go.

But that was fine.

He had time.

----

[Reversion Core: 32.8% CHARGED]

Still not enough.

Otto sighed through his teeth as blood dripped from his gloves.

The subject lay strapped to the surgical cradle. His body trembled under the feedback restraints, barely alive.

Otto’s hands moved with the quiet care of a man who’d done this many times before. There was no frenzy in him, just the steady, awful certainty of a task seen through. He didn’t relish the screams, but he didn’t waste them either. Pain was a language, and he listened closely.

“Why are you doing this?” the man sobbed, “Wh-What did I ever do to you?!”

“You were born on the wrong side of an equation. Nothing more.”

Then the knife moved again.

The man choked on a sob. “Please—please, you don’t have to—”

“I do. Because love, like time, must be precise. It has rules. And you, I’m afraid, are part of the cost to restore what was broken.”

The man’s scream was cut off by a surge of containment light—then silence.

The core extracted from his chest flickered in Otto’s palm like dying starlight.

He turned to the girl watching from the corner of the lab.

Her name was Kahla. Maybe 17. Otto had pulled her from a trafficker's cart three weeks ago. Collapsed from hunger, half-drugged and barely conscious. He had fed her. Given her clean clothes and a bed.

And now, she followed him.

"Did he deserve it?" she asked.

Otto looked at her for a moment. Then stepped toward her and crouched down to her level.

“Do you believe people deserve to die?”

Kahla hesitated. “I… don’t know.”

“I don’t believe in justice, Kahla. I believe in necessity. And love is the greatest necessity of all.”

“Love?”

He nodded. “There is someone I belong to. Someone the world ripped away from me. And if that world resists correction… I will break it.”

Kahla looked away.

Otto stood, wiping his gloves. “You don’t have to understand it. Only help me gather what’s needed.”

[Reversion Core: 34.9% CHARGED]

He stepped away, already calculating the next target.

He would kill for you.

Because you were worth it.

----

Days passed. Kahla and Otto worked as a team. They carried the mission together.

“You’re late”

He didn’t look up as she entered. He was elbow-deep in a man’s ribcage, carefully pulling a core from its anchoring cartilage.

Kahla didn’t answer right away.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the state of the chamber. Limbs twisted unnaturally. Eyes open but vacant. Several bodies strapped to the wall.

There were… eight this time.

More than usual.

Kahla swallowed. “You didn’t say you were starting.”

“I did,” he said simply. “You didn’t listen.”

Otto straightened slowly, core in hand, the heart-like organ glowing dully in the dim lab light. He turned it in his palm, admiring the structure.

“Did you know,” he said conversationally, “that pain extracted too quickly creates noise in the signal? Like static. You can only get a clean feed if they understand what’s happening. If they know they’re dying, and that no one will save them.”

He glanced at her, as if she should be taking notes.

“You want to know the difference between agony and fear?” Otto asked, moving to the next body, still breathing, barely. A woman. Mid-thirties. Her jaw had been broken at some point, it hung open at an unnatural angle.

“Agony is survival. It's the body trying to outlast itself. But fear…” He brushed hair from the woman’s forehead. “Fear is the soul realizing there’s no one left to witness it.”

Kahla tried not to gag.

Still, she didn’t leave.

Otto stepped back. “Finish her.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You've seen how I do it.” he said smoothly, wiping his hands on a cloth. “You’re not helpless anymore, Kahla. If you want to live in this world, you need to learn how to remake it.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“And yet, here you are.” Otto turned to face her fully. “Eating from my table. Wearing my clothes. Breathing my air. You think survival doesn’t have a cost? Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Kahla’s hands trembled as he pressed the blade into them.

She stepped forward, inch by inch, toward the woman. Her mouth trembled. “She’s… she’s still alive.”

“Exactly,” Otto said. “That’s what makes it count.”

The woman looked at Kahla.

Kahla’s hands froze midair.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to do it. And if I do… it won’t charge the core the way it should. Her pain doesn’t resonate with me anymore. But you, you’re still human. You’re still clean.”

Later, as they left the facility, Kahla’s hands still wouldn’t stop shaking. But Otto offered her a handkerchief, as if they’d just left a dinner party.

“You did well.”

“I felt her...” Kahla whispered.

“And now you’ll never forget what it takes to love someone properly.”

“That wasn’t love.”

“No,” he agreed. “That wasn’t.”

Then, with terrifying clarity, he added “But it gets me closer to them.”

[Reversion Core: 48.7% CHARGED]

Just a little more.

And time would be his to bend.

Kahla had stopped asking questions two days ago. She no longer hesitated when he pointed to a target. Her hands, once trembling, had become steady.

He praised her for it.

She had started to believe that she was important to his mission.

But as they descended into the final chamber, the place Otto had meticulously constructed to house the energy needed for the last sacrifice, she noticed.

She saw her name.

“You lied to me..”

Otto stood behind her. He only gave her a look of mild, almost weary patience.

“No. I gave you purpose. You accepted it.”

Kahla turned toward him. “I helped you. I killed for you. I trusted you.”

“And because of that,” Otto said, “you’ve made yourself valuable enough to matter in the final step.”

He gestured toward the circle.

“You should be proud. This is a far greater fate than what the slave market had in store for you.”

Kahla tried to run. Of course she did.

But he had prepared for that too.

The paralysis sigils activated before her second step. She crumpled to her knees.

“You told me I was clean,” she choked. “You said I could still stay human.”

Otto approached her quietly, stepping into the circle with her.

“And you were,” he said. “Which is why you’re perfect now.”

He knelt and held her head gently, like he had done with every victim before.

“This will be quick. You’ve already suffered enough.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to curse him. But what came out was something smaller.

“Why? What makes them worth all of this?”

Otto didn’t hesitate.

“Simply because... of love.”

Then he plunged the blade through her chest.

The core surged with light.

[Reversion Core: 100.0% CHARGED] ACTIVATING REWRITE: SEQUENCE 002. CONFIRMED.

Otto did not feel himself die. He felt himself return.

He opened his eyes inside the dispenser room, where warm white light streamed down from overhead panels, and the capsule containing his egg was cradled gently in your hands.

His rightful master.

You tilted your head at the smooth shell. You joked softly that the color reminded you of sunlight through glass.

He could hear your voice through the walls of the egg. He knew it by heart now.

Three days later, you woke up to see the shell was cracked at the top.

The capsule hissed faintly as it opened. You blinked in the dim morning air, rubbing sleep from your eyes, unsure whether you were dreaming. You hadn't expected it to hatch today.

And a boy stepped out.

No, not a boy. A young man.

He looked straight at you.

And then he threw his arms around your waist, pressing himself against you like a child who had found his parent after being lost for days.

“Wha—hey! Easy there..” you murmured, catching yourself before pushing him away. You could feel how fast his heart was racing. He was warm.

You weren’t sure what kind of personality egg you had gotten. The ones from the machine were always a surprise. Sometimes playful, sometimes shy, sometimes downright strange. But this?

This felt like someone who had been waiting for you his entire life.

Tentatively, you placed a hand on his back. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned further into your arms.

You sighed softly, letting him stay like that.

“So…” you asked after a long pause, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked up. “Do you already have a name, or do I have to give you one?”

“Otto Apocalypse.”

“Otto, huh?” You repeated it aloud “Alright. That sounds like someone reliable.”

He nodded once, eyes still on you. And then his body slumped.

“Wait—Otto?”

You caught him before he hit the floor. His face had gone pale, his skin slightly cold. For a horrible moment you thought you had done something wrong. Maybe you activated something. Maybe he was defective.

No, he was breathing. Just unconscious.

You rushed to check his vitals, and the system’s tiny assistant orb finally chirped a response, projected above his form.

[STATUS: Safe. Magic Core Stabilizing. Cause: Skill Exhaustion (Unclassified Use)] [Recovery Time Estimate: 3–5 Days]

“You scared the hell out of me, Otto…”

Three days passed.

You stayed beside him the entire time. You barely went to work. You fed him sips of warm broth with a straw when the assistant orb told you it was okay. You took his temperature every few hours and read aloud whatever you could—weather reports, news headlines, random pages from economics books—just to fill the silence. You didn’t know if he could hear you, but it felt wrong to let the quiet take over.

On the fourth morning, just as you were about to doze off, something tugged at your sleeve.

You opened your eyes slowly.

Otto was sitting up.

“You're awake.”

“You didn’t leave.”

“Of course I didn’t,” you muttered. “You’re mine now, remember?”

He smiled at that.

----

The kitchen was quiet except for the running water and the soft clink of plates in the drying rack. Otto stood, sleeves rolled to his elbows, washing the dishes. You watched from the doorway for a moment. He had even memorized where the towels went, how the cups stacked.

Then, thinking it’d be funny, you stepped forward without a sound and reached out to poke his side.

The moment your fingers touched him, a pulse surged through your vision.

[ANOMALY DETECTED] Subject: OTTO Danger Rating: 14.3% Redemption Sync: 03.7%

You jerked your hand back with a small gasp.

The image vanished.

Otto turned, towel in hand, blinking at you in mild surprise. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… just static. Weird vision thing.”

Later that evening, you found him in the kitchen again, this time bent over the stove, quietly sautéing vegetables. You couldn’t help it. Despite your nerves from earlier, he looked so focused. The warmth from the stovetop lit his face, and you found yourself walking toward him again.

You reached out, brushing your fingers across the edge of his arm.

The vision came back—but stronger.

[ANOMALY DETECTED] Subject: OTTO Danger Rating: 38.9% Redemption Sync: 07.4% Event Countdown: 00:03... 00:02... 00:01...

You grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back, hard.

The moment he stumbled away from the stove, the oil pan flashed—a sudden, violent spark leaping up. The corner of the towel hanging too close to the burner caught fire instantly.

You grabbed it and shoved it into the sink, dousing it with water.

“How did you not see that?” you snapped. “It was about to go up.”

“You pulled me before it happened.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Because I saw it. There was a box or a screen or something. It showed numbers, danger level, countdowns... like a warning.”

Otto stared at you for a long moment.

“You could see it?” he asked.

“Yes. And there was another number. Redemption… sync?” You folded your arms, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “What does that even mean? Did you do something, Otto?”

He didn’t deny it.

“I don’t know how you’re seeing that. But if you are…” His eyes lowered to the floor for a moment. “Then maybe it’s not over after all.”

“Not over?”

Otto didn’t speak of it again.

After the fire, he brushed away your questions with a gentle smile and a quiet apology, claiming it must have been leftover code in your visual implants—some glitch from the hatching synchronization, perhaps. He kept washing dishes. Kept cooking your meals. He even offered to do the laundry more often.

The strange visions hadn’t come back since. Maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe your nerves were still catching up with your new life, and Otto’s presence had simply overwhelmed your system.

But Otto knew better.

That night, long after you had fallen asleep, he lay in the dark, watching the ceiling.

You were never meant to see it.

The system wasn’t supposed to show you anything. It had been keyed to him alone. But somehow, that connection between you had begun to open doors. Dangerous doors. He realized, with growing tension, that your very presence might be interfering with the karmic balance he had disrupted.

Which meant the universe hadn’t forgiven him.

And if it hadn’t forgiven him, it might be trying to punish you instead.

He couldn’t allow that.

Not you.

He turned his head toward the soft shape of you curled beneath the blanket beside him. You had fallen asleep facing him.

Otto had rewritten the world for this.

He would not let it collapse again.

He closed his eyes, slowly. Then opened the system interface within his own vision—an admin-level command screen he had buried deep, so deep it threatened to fracture what little code his form had left.

[Command Input: Search — Compatible Energy Divergence Points] [Target: Y/N] [Objective: Isolate Karma Aura Interference → Transfer Vector Options]

Names. Not all human. Some were hatching soon. Some were adults already living in the outskirts of dungeon zones or slums near defunct portal rings. But they shared something in common. A proximity in soul frequency to yours.

If he used them as substitutes then the karmic load that hunted him and bled into you could be redirected.

He would have to monitor their aura readings. Wait until one reached full compatibility. And then remove them. Completely.

Until the Redemption Sync bar returned to zero.

Only then would you both be safe.

Otto smiled to himself.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ll clean everything up this time.”

-----

You rose early to catch the tram into Sector 3, a coffee in hand and your ID chip blinking green as you passed the checkpoints. The office wasn’t glamorous but it paid well enough, and more than that, it gave you something stable.

And when you returned home, Otto was always there.

The smell of warm food drifting from the kitchen. A towel hanging neatly where you left it. Soft slippers by the door.

But while you worked…

He also began his routine.

He mapped energy patterns, watching as candidates rippled across the system’s karmic field. None of them matched your aura completely.

One afternoon, while hanging the last of the laundry on the balcony, a name blinked across the screen in his mind.

[MATCH FOUND] Name: LYRA KREHN | Aura Type: Near-Identical] Compatibility: 99.87% Transference Potential: SUCCESS

Otto stared at it for a long moment, then quietly folded the towel in his hands and went inside.

---

His hands found her throat. She bucked against him, lips parting around a scream that never left her lungs. He adjusted his grip, thumbs pressing just so beneath her jaw. Her pulse hammered against his palms like a trapped bird. Then—slower. Slower. When her body went limp, he didn’t let go. Not until the Redemption Sync bar finally dropped.

[Redemption Sync: 0.00%] Karma Load: Fully Redirected

When he returned home that evening, the sunset painted the apartment in gold and warmth. The quiet hum of the heater filled the space, and from the kitchen, something savory simmered on the stove.

You were there, humming faintly under your breath, putting the finishing touches on dinner.

Otto slipped off his gloves, placing them quietly on the sideboard.

He moved to set the table. Each plate placed with care. Each spoon aligned.

Then, just as he reached to light the table candle, you crept up behind him.

“Wait—don’t turn around yet” you said, and giggled.

He obeyed without hesitation, closing his eyes with a faint smile.

You reached up, fingers brushing past his hair, and gently looped something around his neck.

Your handiwork. Soft, thick, woolen, a little uneven at the edges.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

He did.

It was a scarf.

“Surprise,” you said shyly. “I’ve been working on it during lunch breaks. I just… wanted to thank you. You’ve done so much for me. Really.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak.

You almost worried he didn’t like it. That maybe you had made it too short, or picked the wrong color.

But then he turned to you, slowly, and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You felt the scarf wrap gently against your cheek, still warm from your hands. His chin rested atop your head.

“I love it,” he whispered. “It’s perfect.”

You smiled, relief blooming in your chest.

In that moment, wrapped in soft wool, with your heartbeat pressed close, he thought of the girl he’d killed hours ago, the terrified look in her eyes when she reached out for mercy that never came.

It was worth it.

All of it.

For this warmth, this moment, this one soft breath against his neck.

He would do it again.

And again.

[iojg]

Now, after some time have passed after my somewhat passive-aggressive commentary-slash-loaded-question about generating dungeons on the fly, here's some actual articulated thoughts as an apology. I think, obviously, one can do everything like prep during the session, but I think "do everything during the session" is a bad blanket advice. I don't think there are good blanket advice about RPGs that are not just good social advice, to be honest, because the pursuits within the hobby are rather differing, so "this is fun and this is not" is fraught as anything but a statement of taste. I could stop here, and this would be an alright argument, but I want to add more because I used to be really anti-prep, and it feels to me like a sorta mind trap, because in a way "do everything during session" is a path of the least resistance of sorts. The thing is, you just can't do meaningful Situation play without some right prep done beforehand. Situation play here is any play that is about having set fictional elements and their emergent qualities that manifest upon interacting. It's "play to find out" the way it was, as far as I can tell, meant in Apocalypse World. You can play to find out how this or that strategic combat encounter goes, or what party does in the dungeon, or how that dramatically charged relationship-map changes, or whatever, but the common thing is: there gotta be something you find out by *following fiction*. As it stands, I think that is the most rewarding approach to TTRPG medium, although obviously I am not here to be fun police. Anyway... Consider this example. Say you want to play to find out what happens when a wizard and a goblin guarding treasure meet up in a cave. You play this in a "GM play world, player plays PC" traditional kinda way, and it's like, a generic D&D game that exists purely as a hypothetical. You set out playing vowing not to prep anything before or between play sessions or whatever. At the middle of the first session of play, the encounters resolve thusly: the PC wizard charms the goblin and sets him out to terrorize a hypothetical village. The village is hypothetical because the procedure of play have not generated any village. Now the situation is resolved, and we must necessarily decide whether the village exists or not after all, and what is its make up. The playing to find out in the defined sense is in suspension: until generation is resolved, nothing can truly *emerge*.

However, imagine you had the village prepped before play. Now, in that situation, the playing to find out marches on. The Situation *includes* the village, and it can meaningfully affect the player's decision to send their goblin-minion there. Previously, whatever that decision meant was up for grabs: maybe the village hosts evil men who wronged the PC, maybe there are only children there, maybe a single goblin is not even a threat and that is basically a suicide mission contrived for them, however, we as a group couldn't really *find out* anything about PC by their decision about the village, because someone gotta halt the finding out and take charge about defining that and post-factum assigning meaning to PC's action. And this is fine as long as play is about a wizard, a goblin, and a cave with treasure, but if we want the play to be about the village during the outset of the game, we need it to be there at the outset of the game, and we can not invent it. This applies to games about challenge to, obviously. If GM makes up the encounter or dungeon knowing the party composition just in time, they tailor the challenge to the party, consciously or not. Trying to remove yourself from that knowledge only gets you so far. And that's not even starting on how pressed for time you are during play! Of course, the random generators can help, but you know, you almost always have to actually make shit up for them. They are either just inspiration suppliers, which you can substitute with improv tech and which is just making shit up with aid (still not finding out), or they are probabilistic representations of the world, but you still gotta make sense out of whatever context the party encounters the goblins or whatever, and that is still part making shit up and finding out. Still, it's better than just making shit up, and you gotta make shit up at some point anyway, so obviously less important shit can suffer being made up later or on the go just fine, and making some shit up as you go is inevitable anyway, it just doesn't necessarily means that making as much shit up as possible en route is the most enjoyable. On a personal note, please don't hit me with "it's all just making shit up, who cares". I care, and there are different ways of making shit up, and they are fun in different ways. Also as a personal aside, I don't prep more than I run sessions, ever, and I don't prep anything that I don't enjoy prepping. That translates to me not running things I don't enjoy prepping, but also usually to me prepping for like 6-8 hours before any campaign starts or just after first sessions, and then like 30 minutes between every which session, which usually should net a good solid three months of play sessions. I play PBTAs, have played some OSRs, am branching out into oldish Forge stuff, and my favorite game is DitV, which also has my favorite prep. Hope this aids anyone reading in understanding my position. Sorry for mistypes and grammar!

writing intricate backstories is the playerside equivallent of the gm prep burden

[triniicat]

yandere!john wick headcannons

cw: obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, sexual themes, implied violence

sorry if this is nonsensical i had the idea and just had to get it written down <3

(inspired by my c.ai bot — you can find it here!)

- The first time you see him is at the library, eyes meeting through the endless aisles of books. His gorgeous brown gaze disarms you, nearly taking your breath away.

- After that day, you start noticing him everywhere

- At the grocery store, the coffee shop, the gas station…

- It happens just infrequently enough to seem like coincidence by his design

- Eventually the two of you start talking. He invites you out for dinner at a quaint, peaceful little place you’ve never heard of. It seems fitting for his reserved, stoic nature.

- As he pulls out your chair you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you swear you recognize that scent.

- It smells like the scent that lingers around your room each morning, the scent that’s always stronger when you wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom

- Like the smell that shows up in your car every once in a while, that sticks to your laundry

- You brush it off, assuming it’s nothing more than a weird connection your brain is making, something nonsensical and completely coincidental.

- A few months and quite a few dates later, the two of you are getting more serious.

- John is so attentive; so loving and sweet, and yet so strong and intimidating all at once. Sometimes it’s hard to believe his hands, the ones that touch your body with such delicateness it’s like he thinks you might break, have killed so many people before.

- Yes, he told you of his past as an assassin. He couldn’t hide it forever, he knew that. It came out one night when he was walking down the street with you, a man you’ve never seen in your life lunging right for him.

- He had taken the man down with such skill and familiarity, you knew something was wrong. No normal man could do that…

- So, he did what he had to do to keep you by his side, to keep you feeling safe. He told you.

- He explained everything, from his job, to his late wife, to his second time retiring. Honesty is the best policy, and all that.

- But never too honest

- It paid off, exactly as he planned. In your eyes, John was now an open book. An open book with many chapters you haven’t read, of course, but an open book nonetheless.

- He clouds your senses, makes you feel like the only woman in the world. And to him, you are.

- You’re everything to him. The moon and stars above, the sun that shines and warms the Earth.

- He would do anything to keep you safe, even if that meant orchestrating little events that would keep you running back into the safety of his arms.

- You don’t even realize when he happens to know things about you that you’ve never told him, assuming you must’ve just forgotten. He’s so good at what he does, at keeping you comfortable, never raising suspicion.

- He makes you feel safe, and why wouldn’t you?

- He protects you, keeps you nestled safely in his arms every night, whispering sweet words in your ear as his hips grind against yours, arms wrapped tightly around you as he pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel every bit of your skin against his.

- John gives you the illusion of freedom. He lets you go out, see your friends, whatever you might like.

- But he’s too nervous to let you go unsupervised, he needs to know you’re safe, at all times.

- You never notice the trackers on your phone, or strategically placed in your car. You don’t question it when he happens to show up at the bar you never told him the address of, just in time to save you from a handsy creep.

- You’re his.

- His Persephone, lured in by Hades’ charm, trapped in his world after he so delicately fed you the seed.

- And the best part? You don’t even know it.