#or I never questioned it after I set it when I started

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[apassingbird]

Buck's barely awake when he drags himself out of bed and down the stairs, his hand still rubbing at the corner of his eye as a yawn escapes his body. The sun is just about to set, which means his fifteen minute powernap most definitely turned into an actual, several hour long nap. He can't be mad about it, though. He needed the sleep, needs more of it if he's being honest, his mind and body beyond exhausted after an excruciatingly long shift that never seemed to want to slow down or end.

He comes to a stop in his kitchen, knows that he should get some food in him, but the mere thought of doing anything more advanced than opening a nutritional bar package is enough to make him want to cry. He thinks about texting Tommy, his fingers just about to reach for his phone when the sound of a key turning, and then front door opening, fills the loft.

"You're here."

It's not so much a question as it is a statement because Buck might be exhausted, but not to the point where he starts seeing things. At least he doesn't think so. He blinks once, twice for good measure, and yeah, no, Tommy is very much here, smiling at Buck as he closes the door behind him before shrugging off his jacket.

"You're here." Buck says again, voice cracking slightly this time. He feels a little bit like crying again.

"Yeah," Tommy says, his voice soft as he closes the distance between them. "Yeah, of course I'm here."

He reaches out, then, and touches the tips of his fingers against the back of Buck's hands. It's a barely there touch, and yet it's sending shivers all throughout Buck's body. He takes one shuddering breath, and then he all but crashes into Tommy, burying his face into the crook of his neck, reveling in the way Tommy's arms instinctively wrap around his waist to pull him closer.

"You okay?"

Buck nods. "Yeah, just... 'm just tired."

"You eaten anything?" Tommy asks then, the palm of his hands rubbing soothing circles into Buck's back. "I can cook something for you."

Buck shakes his head at that, lips brushing against the warm skin of Tommy's neck as he asks, "can we- can we just stay like this, just for a little bit longer?"

"Baby," Tommy murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle Buck's neck as he drops a kiss onto Buck's hair, before he continues "we can stay like this for as long as you want."

[firewasabeast]

Can you please do a hurt/comfort Eddie + Tommy friendship with Bucktommy - Tommy gets hurt in some way (mentally/physically/sick/etc) and Eddie helps him until Buck can get there

you gave me a reason to finish the fic I started earlier today! thank you!

His teeth were chattering. Had been since he woke up after hitting the ground.

He didn't hurt anywhere, which was never a good sign.

He laid there, surrounded by trees. Cold, wet leaves underneath his body. He could hear crickets and frogs all around him. Could smell smoke somewhere nearby.

There were distinct sounds of metal creaking mixed in with nature.

Slowly, he moved his head to the right, then to the left.

Fire.

It was about fifty yards away. Thankfully, due to the recent rain, the fire was contained to the helicopter that had so gracefully fallen out of the sky.

He wasn't sure how he ended up so far from it. Had no memory of being ejected or jumping or whatever happened that made it so he wasn't inside those flames.

He lifted his hands to his face, could barely see them as the sun set below the trees. He was sure there was blood. Dirt, mud, leaves, and blood.

They shook so fiercely he wasn't sure how he had any control over them at all.

His breathing was labored, heart beating rapidly. No matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to calm himself down.

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard something.

People talking.

Not just people, familiar people.

Family.

“H- Here,” he barely managed to get out, figuring they'd be running toward the fire instead of him. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Here! I'm here!”

The talking stopped, then there was running.

He could feel the pounding of the footsteps as they approached.

“Hey, we gotcha, Buddy!”

“Howie?”

“Yeah, it's me. Saving your ass, once again.”

Hands were on him now. Lights shining in his eyes, causing him to squint. He could hear others talking. Hen, Eddie, Bobby. Couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

Chimney had him focus on him. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

“T- Tommy,” he answered. God, he wished he could stop shaking. He couldn't barely get out a word.

“Year?”

“2024.”

“Best paramedic you know?”

“Hen,” Tommy replied, choking out a laugh.

“Hey now!” Chimney exclaimed, mocking offense.

“I knew I liked you,” Hen said with a smile. She patted him on the shoulder before getting back to work.

Chimney chomped on his gum a couple times before asking his next question. “Can you wiggle your toes for me, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head. He lifted his arm, tried to pull Chimney closer to him so he could whisper. “I c- can't feel anything,” he paused, sucked in a shaky breath, “b- below my waist.” He knew what this meant, and he also knew he was in shock. The adrenaline pumping through him was the only thing keeping him remotely alert.

Chimney nodded, sharing a glance with Hen. “Cervical collar for our dashing pilot here, please, Hen.”

“Already on it.”

“Ho- Howie?”

“Yeah, Buddy?”

“Ev- Evan?”

“Buck went home early today,” Eddie answered, moving into Chimney's place so he could do whatever work needed to be done. “Chief is cracking down on overtime, so he had to be sent home.”

“We've... We've been sa- saving f- for the wedding,” he explained, although he wasn't sure why. Everyone there already knew that.

Eddie took Tommy's hand and wrapped it up in his own. “You were probably already up in the air when Buck sent you the text complaining about being sent home.”

“He'd say... He'd say th- the chief didn't want us t- to have the good hors d'oeuvres.”

Eddie nodded, tried putting on a smile. “He did mention that on his way out.”

Tommy squeezed Eddie's hand. “We m- might have to re... reschedule.” His lip trembled at the thought, tears welling in his eyes. Evan was so excited for the wedding. Had been working diligently and meticulously on every detail since they got engaged in October. He wanted a winter wedding, and didn't want to wait another whole year, so February it would be. With it being December now, Tommy didn't see any way he'd be able to fully recover by then.

If he did at all.

“Let's not worry about that right now, alright, Man? I don't think Buck will care when the wedding is, as long as there is one. Let's focus on that, okay?”

Tommy nodded. Blinked a few times to rid himself of the tears.

A few fell anyway.

“Ed- Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I... Do I still have my legs?”

“You certainly do, Kinard,” Bobby interrupted. Tommy wasn't sure how long the captain had been on his other side. Bobby gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You've got all your limbs right where they should be. You ready to move now, Kid?”

Tommy could've laughed at the nickname. He'd been called that by Bobby a couple of times, many years ago. It'd been a long while since then.

He nodded. “Ready.”

Eddie didn't let go of his hand as they lifted him and began carrying him to the ambulance. Tommy was a bit surprised. He didn't remember ever being moved onto the spine board. Hadn't felt a thing.

A part of him had wondered if they'd even been working on him during that time. That maybe Eddie was the chosen distraction until he drifted off and his breathing stopped.

He was glad to know he was wrong.

*****

Bobby drove them to the hospital, with Eddie staying in the back beside him. It was a bit cramped with him, Eddie, Chimney, and Hen all back there together, but the fact he was surrounded by these people made him feel a bit more comforted.

Tommy looked over to where his and Eddie's hands were still tightly gripped together. He wasn't sure if Eddie was refusing to let him go, or if he was refusing to let Eddie go. Didn't really matter either way. He needed something to keep him tethered to reality.

He shook his wrist back and forth a few times to get Eddie's attention. “Can you... Can you call Evan? Please?”

“Of course,” Eddie replied, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

“You've got some cuts on your arms, Tommy,” Hen explained as Eddie pressed Buck's name. “We're gonna work on those on the way to the hospital, so you might feel some stings, okay?”

“Yeah. That's okay.”

Eddie put the phone on speaker and Buck answered on the third ring. “What's wrong?”

“Buck-”

“Who is it, Eddie? I just left work an hour ago. Is it Bobby? Hen? Chim?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “B- Baby.”

Silence.

Then.

“Tommy? Is that you?”

“Had a... a little accident.”

“What hospital?”

“The usual,” Eddie replied.

“I'm heading there now.”

“Evan? Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, wanting to get his attention before he got in the car and started to drive.

“I'm here, Tommy,” he answered. “I'm gonna meet you at the hospital.”

“I don't wanna... wanna scare you,” Tommy said, and he could feel the tears burning his eyes again. “I can't. I can't feel my legs.”

“He's stabilized,” Chimney added quickly, before Buck could ask. “Likely a lower spinal cord injury.”

Another pause, followed by a quiet. “Okay. Okay.”

“He's doing well, Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “We're all right here with him. He won't shut up about you, like always.”

Tommy smiled. He hoped Evan did as well.

“Feeling's mutual,” Buck replied. His voice was softer now. Tommy knew the words were meant to keep him focused and thinking positively.

It worked.

“Need you t- to be safe.”

“I will, Baby. I'll drive safe and I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay. L- Love you.”

“I love you, too. So damn much, T- Tommy.”

Tommy wasn't sure who hung up first, but he could tell by the way Evan's voice wavered at the end that he was probably close to falling apart.

“Thank you,” Tommy said as Eddie put his phone back into his pocket.

“Whatever you need, Bud, I'm here.”

“Just... Just keep ho- holding my hand.”

Eddie nodded, squeezed a little tighter. “I can do that.”

[muzaktomyears]

Two of Us play notes/thoughts/Easter eggs I noticed

they played solo Beatles tracks as waiting music before the play began so I sat there listening to ‘Monkberry Moon Delight’ with a theatreful of people which was great 

before Paul turns up John is baking(/burning) bread

John is wearing underwear under his dressing gown which obvs had to be but also my suspension of disbelief was CHALLENGED

when Paul rings up to be let in John does a little rhyme to make him prove he is who he says he is. this is not the exact wording but it went something like: "Five little boys in Hamburg did play/All through the night and all through the day/Ingrid the stripper would do anything/But who got the clap? Was it sexy Stu Sutcliffe - or the lead singer in Wings?" and then Paul has to admit it was him who got the clap

when Paul takes his shoes off he also takes his socks off - idk if this is an intentional barefoot Paul thing but it is hilarious later when they're fighting and Paul is about to leave and angrily putting his socks back on

John and Paul have Get Back era hair/beards, which is weird - presumably because they assume people going to see this will also have seen Get Back but might not know their 1976 looks as well?? idk

some of the dialogue and references have been made a bit more British - the skit they do at the piano is now set in a British greasy spoon instead (still with the American accents)

instead of fighting "like the Hatfields and McCoys" they're now fighting like "the Montagues and the Capulets" (👀)

'Sh-Boom' is played on the record player while they smoke weed (Paul uses the album cover to roll the joint)

George and Ringo both get more of a mention! Paul says that George is happy now (John replies that he's not happy, he's reincarnated). John tells Paul a story Ringo told him about going on a bus in NYC and being recognised.

"I'm the best fuck you ever had" is said by John during the fight (Paul replies "If that's your way of saying you were the real brains behind the Beatles-" etc. etc.)

"You should have married me when you had the chance" is said by John during the Yoko/losing my friend bit

"It's only me" as John's way to get Paul not to leave after the fight

when John goes out to get disguises for them Paul sits at the piano and starts playing some notes he finds there (he'd asked about them earlier and John had said they're nothing). we get a few notes of 'Now and Then' before John returns (ghjshgkhgkdshgksd who did this I HATE YOU)

the appearance of the I Love Paul badge!! John wears it on his disguise jacket and Paul asks what it says. John tells him and then Paul replies "Lucky Paul".......

they never go outside in this version - John says he'll go but then thinks better of it. this means that John comes across as even more locked away than he does in the film.

the police bit is sort of done when Paul puts on a leather hat from the disguises and pretends to be a policeman come to question John, who John then talks back at. he also yells out of the window at some police below at one point.

Paul realises they're never actually going to Luigi's, so John lays the table for him as if they're at a restaurant together (including calling him "Lady McCartney" and "my love")

the bit with the fan is sort of recreated but instead it's John asking Paul whether he truly thinks Wings at the Speed of Sound is the number 1 record in America (which obvs changes it quite a lot)

Julian is brought up - they're toasting to various people/things (ending with "Dr. Winston O'Boogie and Paul Ramon") and Paul says "to Julian" and sort of confronts John about him and how he treated him

during the toasting Paul also mentions "putting hair on a seagull's chest" which John questions and then Paul says it's something his dad used to say

I thought the lift scene/roof scene wouldn't be happening... BUT THEN a lift descended from the ceiling ❤️ the magic of theatre

the kiss still happens and idk but I thought the vibe was a bit different from the film version - less jokey (and no lines after about brushing his teeth/is my name Brian)

Paul: I bought into it that you and me didn't get along well (paraphrasing the Stephen Colbert interview)

they hug at the end of the roof conversation (I was sat very close to this since the actors come in front of the stage to do it and they were both crying and it WAS ALL TOO MUCH 😭😭)

John gets them two guitars to practice with before they go out and they sit opposite each other in chairs and Paul says “I know which one to begin with” and John says “What?” and they lean forward and then the phone rings

when Paul leaves John he’s crying and it’s like okay rip out my heart I guess

the play ends with Paul on the phone to Linda and John on the phone to Yoko, at opposite sides of the stage, and they say “I love you” to their wives but also to each other and it’s ridiculous????

yeah then ‘Give Peace a Chance’ plays which is such a bizarre choice idek

anyway who knows if it's a good play or what the actual people there thought about it because obvs I can have no rational reaction to it but I'm so glad I went to see it because someone on the writing team is one of us I SEE YOU

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Chapter Two ~ Against The Odds

pairing(s): logan (the wolverine) howlett x non-mutant!f!reader, uncle!wade (deadpool) wilson x non-mutant!f!reader, grandma!althea x non-mutant!f!reader

warning(s): explicit, minors do not interact! SMUT SMUT SMUT, plot with porn, yearning, needy, fluff, p in v sex, oral sex, sexual tension, wholesome, family, baby fever (to me because i want a baby lol), wade being a girl dad???

a/n: hello, this is a continuation of Chapter One ~ Fragile. i honestly don’t know how many chapters this will be, but i am very excited to release this one. it is a much longer read, but it is literally wade being such a girl dad. in a way, having wade and althea live with the reader and her daughter really teaches them to be better in a sense. either way, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did! let me know if there are any errors. :) <3

word count: 6.1k

- - - - - - -

summary: in this chapter, the bond between mara and you, as her mother, deepens as you navigate life after logan. with wade as a vital support, you enjoy a day at the park, where mara’s innocent questions about her father lead to heartfelt discussions on love and family. your emotional journey toward accepting love reemerges through your growing feelings for wade, highlighting themes of healing, family connection, and the complexities of moving on.

- - - - - - -

It had been a couple of years since your beloved daughter, Mara Howlett, was born. She showed her intelligence by imitating her first words, which weren't "mama" but "Uncle Wade." It was a heartwarming moment. Mara and Wade were already playing together and running around the house, engaging in games of hide-and-seek. Every morning, they cooked breakfast together and brought it to you in bed.

Uncle Wade had always been there for support, and even Grandma Althea, who was blind, pitched in financially as much as she could. To help with expenses and ensure that your little one had everything she needed, you took on a job at the nearby grocery store. As you worked long hours stocking shelves and checking out customers, your mind was always consumed with thoughts of your precious daughter and how grateful you were to have her in your life.

She was your light, your reason for pushing through the exhaustion and tedium. Every time you felt your eyelids growing heavy or your feet aching from hours of standing, you pictured her smile, her tiny hand in yours. You imagined the moment you'd walk through the door and she'd come running, arms outstretched, shouting "Mommy!" with unbridled joy.

During your short breaks, you'd sneak a peek at the photos on your phone - her first steps and the two of you with Wade at the beach last weekend. They never failed to bring a smile to your face, even on the toughest days.

As you restocked cans of soup and boxes of cereal, you made mental notes of items she might like for her lunchbox. When ringing up customers, you'd spot a toy or book she'd love, setting aside a mental reminder to pick it up later. Every decision, every action, seemed to revolve around her now.

The store's bell chimed, and you glanced up to see Mrs. Henderson shuffling in, her weathered hands gripping her walker. You smiled, already reaching for her usual items before she made it to the counter.

"How's that daughter of yours?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind thick glasses.

"Growing like a weed," you replied, your chest swelling with pride. "She starts kindergarten week."

Mrs. Henderson clucked her tongue. "My, how time flies. Seems like just yesterday you were telling me she'd been born."

As you bagged her groceries, your mind wandered to the little girl waiting for you at home. You imagined her curled up on the couch, engrossed in her favorite cartoon, and holding her favorite stuffed unicorn.

It was moments like these that made life feel simple and complete again. But then those thoughts would be interrupted by memories of Logan, the father of your child. Mara's blue eyes and black hair were a constant reminder of him, even though he wasn't there with you.

Some nights, the pain would become too much and you would wake up crying, only to have Wade embrace you until you fell back asleep. He had been so supportive and present lately...but did that mean you were falling for him? Could you actually love someone else after everything Logan put you through? It didn't seem fair to Wade, but then again, he wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you can talk to him about it when you get home.

"All done, Mrs. Henderson," you say, handing her the bags. "Have a great day."

As she shuffles out, you glance at the clock. Your shift is almost over. Just a few more customers and you can head home to Mara, Wade, and Althea.

The next person in line steps forward, and you force a smile. But your mind is elsewhere, grappling with the swirl of emotions that have become your constant companions.

Later, as you drive home, you rehearse what you might say to Wade. The words tumble around in your head, never quite falling into place. How do you explain the tangle of grief, gratitude, and budding affection?

- - - - - - -

As you drive into the parking structure of your apartment complex, you park and make your way up the stairs to your shared apartment. The sound of laughter greets you as you approach the door. You smile, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort. You quickly grab your keys and unlock the door.

You enter the room and witness him playing with Mara. Her laughter echoes throughout the space as she rides on his back, her hair flowing behind her. Your heart feels full as you watch them, overwhelmed with love.

"Mommy!" Mara squeals, spotting you in the doorway. She scrambles off Wade's back and runs toward you, her little arms outstretched. You scoop her up, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the softness of her cheek against yours.

"Hey, sweetheart," you murmur, holding her close. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Wade?"

She nods enthusiastically. "We made a fort and had a tea party with Mr. Unicorn!"

Wade stands up, brushing off his knees. His smile is warm, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. Concern? Uncertainty?

“Hey there, welcome home!” he says, sauntering over with the enthusiasm of a kid who’s just seen their favorite movie. “How was the grind today? Did you dodge any major disasters, or was it more of a ‘stuck in traffic’ kind of day? Either way, I’m here to make it all better—snacks and terrible jokes included.”

You set Mara down, and she immediately tugs on your hand. "Mommy, come see our fort!"

You follow Mara to the living room, where an impressive structure of blankets and pillows dominates the space. "Wow, sweetie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, crouching down to peek inside.

"Uncle Wade helped me build it," Mara says proudly. "We even have a secret password to get in!"

As you admire the fort, you feel Wade's presence behind you. His hand briefly touches your shoulder, a gesture of support that sends a small shiver through you.

He gently comments, “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a bear and lost. How about you kick back and let me whip up some dinner? I promise not to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

You turn to face him, your initial reaction is to chuckle but then you feel a pull on your heartstrings. You are taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. These moments leave you feeling torn and wistful. "Thank you, Wade. That would be wonderful."

- - - - - - -

As Wade heads to the kitchen, you settle into the fort with Mara, listening intently as she recounts her day's adventures. The soft glow of fairy lights strung inside the blanket structure casts a warm, comforting light on her animated face. You can't help but marvel at her boundless energy and imagination.

"And then, Mommy, Uncle Wade pretended to be a dragon, and I had to save Mr. Unicorn from his evil clutches!" Mara giggles, hugging her stuffed unicorn tightly.

You smile, running your fingers through her silky black hair. "That sounds like quite the adventure, sweetheart. Was Uncle Wade a scary dragon?"

Mara shakes her head emphatically. "No, he was a silly dragon. He kept making funny faces and tripping over his own tail!"

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen momentarily distracts you both. Mara's eyes widen with excitement.

"Ooh, I think Uncle Wade is making his special pancakes!" she exclaims, bouncing on her knees.

A chuckle escapes your lips, as you recall Wade's infamous "special pancakes" that are always loaded with an excessive amount of chocolate chips and whipped cream. "Maybe you're onto something. But at this time of night? I suppose... we should lend him a hand?"

Mara shakes her head vigorously, her pigtails swinging. "No, no! We have to stay here and protect the fort from the tickle monster!"

"The tickle monster?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Mara nods seriously. "Uncle Wade said the tickle monster comes out when little girls don't eat all their vegetables. But I ate all my broccoli at lunch, so I'll protect you from the tickle monster!"

You can't help but laugh at her earnest declaration. "Well, I'm glad I have such a brave protector. But maybe we should check on Uncle Wade, just to make sure he's not burning down the kitchen?"

Mara considers this for a moment, then nods. "Okay, but we have to be really quiet so the tickle monster doesn't hear us!"

Hand in hand, you and Mara tiptoe out of the fort and towards the kitchen. The smell of butter and vanilla wafts through the air, confirming your suspicions about the pancakes.

As you round the corner, you see Wade at the stove, his back to you. He's wearing an apron that says "I’m Not Actually a Cook, I Just Play One in the Kitchen" and humming off-key to himself as he flips a pancake with impressive flair.

Mara giggles, alerting Wade to your presence. He spins around, spatula in hand, a comically exaggerated look of surprise on his face.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here? A couple of fort-dwellers venturing out into the wild?" he says, grinning. "I hope you're ready for the breakfast-for-dinner showdown of the century! Spoiler alert: it’s going to be epic."

Mara runs up to him, bouncing on her toes. "Are you making your special pancakes, Uncle Wade?"

"You bet I am, munchkin!" Wade ruffles her hair. "And I've got a super secret ingredient this time. Want to know what it is?"

Mara nods eagerly, and Wade leans down to whisper dramatically in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she lets out a delighted gasp.

Rainbow sprinkles!" Mara exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. "Can I help put them on, Uncle Wade? Please?"

Wade pretends to consider it, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know. Sprinkling rainbows is a very important job. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes!" Mara bounces on her toes, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Alright then, my little sous chef," Wade says, lifting her up to sit on the counter. "But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. And also a lot of colorful mess."

- - - - - - -

You lean against the wall, watching as Wade guides Mara's hand, showing her how to sprinkle just the right amount of rainbow bits onto each pancake. The sight of them together, laughing and working in tandem, makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions you can't quite name.

"Hey, don't just stand there looking pretty," Wade calls out to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come join the pancake party!”

You push off from the wall, shaking your head with a smile. "Someone's got to be the responsible adult here," you tease, but you move closer anyway.

"Responsible? In this kitchen? I don't think so," Wade quips, flipping another pancake with unnecessary flair. "We left responsible at the door, along with our dignity and our fear of sugar crashes."

As you approach the stove, the warmth from the griddle and the sweet aroma of pancakes envelop you. Wade hands you a spatula with a flourish.

"Your turn, chef," he says with a wink. "Show us how it's done."

You take the spatula, your fingers brushing against his for a moment. The touch sends a small jolt through you, and you quickly focus on the task at hand.

"Alright, let's see if I remember how to do this," you say, positioning yourself in front of the stove.

As you pour the batter onto the hot surface, Mara cheers from her perch on the counter. "Go, Mommy! Make it a unicorn shape!"

You laugh, attempting to form the batter into something vaguely unicorn-like. "I'm not sure if this is a unicorn or a blob with a horn, but we'll call it artistic license," you say, chuckling as you watch the misshapen pancake sizzle.

Wade leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours as he inspects your creation. "I'd say it's more of an abstract expressionist unicorn. Very avant-garde."

His closeness makes your heart skip a beat, and you fumble slightly with the spatula. Wade's hand quickly covers yours, steadying your grip.

"Careful there," he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. "We don't want any pancake casualties."

You turn your head slightly, suddenly aware of how close his face is to yours. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the kitchen fading away except for his eyes, warm and full of an emotion you're afraid to name.

"Mommy, it's bubbling!" Mara's excited voice breaks the moment. You blink, coming back to reality, and quickly flip the pancake.

"Nice save," Wade says, stepping back with a small smile. "I think you've got the hang of it now."

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. The pancake sizzles on the griddle, filling the silence.

"Can I put sprinkles on this one too, Uncle Wade?" Mara asks, oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Of course, kiddo," Wade replies, his voice cheerful as he hands her the sprinkle shaker. "Just remember, a little goes a long way."

As Mara carefully sprinkles the rainbow bits onto the cooking pancake, you steal a glance at Wade. He's watching Mara with a soft expression, his eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine affection. The sight makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite define.

As the evening progresses, the kitchen fills with laughter and the sweet aroma of pancakes. Mara's excitement is contagious, and soon you find yourself relaxing, the stress of the workday melting away. Wade keeps the mood light with his jokes and silly antics, but you catch him watching you with a soft, thoughtful expression when he thinks you're not looking.

- - - - - - -

After dinner, as you're helping Mara get ready for bed, she asks, "Mommy, can Uncle Wade read me a bedtime story tonight?"

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions. "Sure, sweetie," you finally say. "If Uncle Wade doesn't mind."

Wade, who's been cleaning up in the kitchen, pops his head into the room. "Did someone say bedtime story? I thought I heard my cue. What'll it be tonight, munchkin? 'The Princess and the Pea' or 'Wade's Totally Awesome and Definitely True Adventures'?"

Mara giggles, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "The Wade story! Please, please!"

You can't help but smile as Wade dramatically clears his throat and settles into the chair beside Mara's bed. "Alright, gather 'round, young padawan. Let me tell you about the time I saved the entire world from an invasion of sentient, evil broccoli..."

As Wade launches into his fantastical tale, complete with silly voices and exaggerated gestures, you lean against the doorframe, watching. The sight of them together fills you with a bittersweet warmth. Mara's eyes are wide with wonder, hanging on Wade's every word, and Wade is fully immersed in his storytelling, his face animated and full of joy.

You can't help but think of Logan, wondering if he would have been this way with Mara. The thought sends a familiar pang through your chest, but it's dulled now, softened by the scene before you.

As Wade's story reaches its climax, with him dramatically reenacting a showdown between himself and the Broccoli King, Mara's giggles turn into yawns. Her eyelids start to droop, even as she fights to stay awake.

"And so," Wade says, his voice softening as he notices Mara's drooping eyelids, "the day was saved, the evil broccoli was turned into a delicious soup, and everyone lived happily ever after. The end."

Mara yawns widely, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "That was a good story, Uncle Wade," she murmurs sleepily.

Wade leans down and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sweet dreams, munchkin. Don't let the bed bugs bite - or the sentient broccoli."

As Wade stands up, you move to Mara's bedside, tucking her in and giving her a goodnight kiss. "I love you, sweetheart," you whisper.

"Love you too, Mommy," Mara replies, her eyes already closed.

- - - - - - -

You and Wade quietly exit the room, gently closing the door behind you. The sudden silence in the hallway feels heavy with unspoken words. You both linger for a moment, unsure of what to say or do next.

Wade breaks the silence first, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "She's really something special, isn't she?"

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "She is. I don't know what I'd do without her."

There's a pause, and then Wade says, "Or without you. You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

His words catch you off guard, and you look up at him. In the dim light of the hallway, his eyes are warm and sincere. You feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something else you're not quite ready to name.

"I couldn't do it without your help," you admit, your voice soft. "You've been... incredible, Wade. With Mara, with everything."

Wade's expression softens, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual jovial demeanor. "Hey, that's what family's for, right?" he says, gently nudging your shoulder with his. "Even if we're a bit of an unconventional one."

You both chuckle quietly, mindful of Mara sleeping nearby. As the laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Wade's face, noticing the tiny laugh lines around his eyes, the way his lips curl up slightly even when he's not smiling.

"Listen," Wade begins, his tone more serious than usual. "I know things haven't been easy for you, with Logan and everything. And I don't want to complicate things or make you feel pressured in any way. But I just want you to know that I'm here. For you, for Mara, for whatever you need."

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your heart races as you process what he's saying - and what he's not saying.

"Wade, I..." you start, but the words catch in your throat. How do you express the tangle of emotions you're feeling? The gratitude, the affection, the fear of letting someone in again.

Wade takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "You don't have to say anything," he says softly. "I just wanted you to know. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I'm not going anywhere."

As you look up into Wade's eyes, you can see the sincerity and the hunger there. Without thinking, you lean forward, and your lips meet his for the first time. They're soft, warm, and inviting. A spark ignites between you, unfamiliar but thrilling. Wade's hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your jawline gently.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," he whispers, his voice low and husky. His breath tickles your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

- - - - - - -

Without breaking the kiss, you both make your way towards the living room couch, your lips locked in a heated kiss. The soft fabric of the couch cushions your bodies as you collapse onto it, your hands roaming over each other's bodies with increasing urgency.

Wade's hand travels up your shirt, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your waist. He groans as he feels the smoothness of your skin, whispers hotly in your ear, "Fuck, you're so soft... Logan doesn't know what he's missing out on."

You smile against his lips, feeling a thrill at the mention of Logan's name. Wade's rough hands feel even better against your skin now, as if you're sharing a deliciously dirty secret. You tug at the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head to reveal his muscular chest. The sight of his defined abs and pecs makes you feel weak in the knees.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck, and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you. "You taste so fucking good," he growls, his teeth grazing your skin.

You moan softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips. You can feel his heart pounding against your palm.

Wade's hand travels up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your panties. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, and you squirm beneath his touch.

He groans as he feels how wet you are. "Fuck, you're so ready for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "I need you, Wade," you whisper, your voice shaky with desire.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. He tugs at the hem of your panties, sliding them down your thighs to reveal your wet and swollen folds. He takes a moment to admire the sight before lowering his head to lavish attention on your clit.

You cry out as his warm tongue circles your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. He groans as he tastes your sweetness, his tongue darting in and out of your folds.

Meanwhile, your hand travels down his body, finding the hard length of his cock straining against his boxers. You stroke him gently, feeling him throb beneath your touch.

Wade groans as you touch him, his hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel him growing even harder in your hand.

He slides his boxers down his hips, revealing his thick and throbbing cock. You can't help but stare at it, mesmerized by its size and power.

Wade smirks as he sees the look of desire in your eyes. "Like what you see?" he asks, his voice teasing.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "It's so big," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Wade chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. "And it's all yours," he murmurs.

He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You moan as you feel it slide against your wet folds.

"Please, Wade," you beg, your voice needy and desperate.

He doesn't make you wait any longer. He slowly slides inside you, filling you up completely. You gasp at the sensation of being stretched and filled, your walls clenching around him.

Wade groans as he feels your tightness, his hips bucking involuntarily. He starts to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes.

You moan as the pleasure builds, your nails digging into his back. Wade leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he moves inside you.

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs it gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You do as he says, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your body shakes and trembles as you cry out quietly, your nails digging deeper into his back.

Wade soon follows, pulling out quickly as his orgasm shudders through him. He came onto your stomach.

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "That was amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with wonder.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Yeah, it was," you agree.

As the evening light fades, you and Wade reluctantly rise from the plush couch, but let's be real—who can resist that level of comfort? You both find yourselves sinking back into those soft cushions like two marshmallows in hot chocolate. Wade grabs the throw blanket that’s been carelessly flung over the armrest like it was a battle flag and drapes it over you, creating a cozy fortress of solitude as you snuggle in.

- - - - - - -

The following morning, you wake up abruptly as a soft tickle dances across your nose. The bright light shining down on you reveals Mara's adorable face, radiating sunshine and mischief. You can't help but smile back at her. With delicate fingers, she nudges Wade's hand, which is resting comfortably on your hip, startling him awake with wide eyes. "Thor! I thought we were battling frost giants!" he exclaims before realizing the situation. You roll your eyes and laugh.

Your bodies are feeling the effects of last night's activities - as if you just survived a zombie apocalypse, but in a much more enjoyable way. Just then, Mara interrupts your thoughts with an insistent voice, "Hungry, mommy!" She toddles over, clutching onto Mr. Unicorn for dear life, her wild hair tousled in the cutest way possible. She's like a miniature whirlwind of adorableness.

You stretch out your limbs like a cat, each muscle protesting slightly before swinging your legs over the side of the couch.

"Alright, sweetie, let's get some breakfast," you say, scooping Mara up into your arms. She giggles as you plant a kiss on her cheek.

Wade sits up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I vote for pancakes. Again. Is it possible to overdose on pancakes? Asking for a friend."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I think we've had enough pancakes for a while. How about some eggs and toast?"

"Eggs!" Mara cheers, bouncing in your arms. "Can I help crack them?"

"Sure thing, munchkin," Wade says, standing up and stretching. "Just try not to recreate the Great Egg Disaster of last Tuesday, okay?"

As you head to the kitchen, Mara chattering excitedly about her plans to become a world-famous egg cracker, you can't help but steal glances at Wade. He catches your eye and gives you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter. There's an unspoken understanding between you now, a shift in your relationship that both excites and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

In the kitchen, you set Mara on a stool at the counter while Wade retrieves the eggs from the fridge. As you gather the other ingredients, you feel Wade's hand brush against your lower back as he passes behind you. The touch, though brief, sends a shiver through you.

"Alright, Chef Mara," Wade announces, setting a bowl in front of her. "Show us your egg-cracking skills!"

Mara's face scrunches up in concentration as she carefully taps an egg against the side of the bowl. To everyone's surprise, she manages to crack it perfectly, the yolk sliding into the bowl without a single shell.

"I did it!" Mara exclaims, her face lighting up with pride.

"Way to go, kiddo!" Wade cheers, giving her a high five. "You're a natural!"

You can't help but beam at your daughter's accomplishment. "That was perfect, sweetie," you say, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

As you whisk the eggs, Wade starts on the toast, humming a tune under his breath. The domesticity of the moment strikes you - the three of you working together to make breakfast, moving around each other with easy familiarity. It feels right in a way you hadn't expected.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Wade asks, popping bread into the toaster.

"Well, I have the day off," you reply, pouring the whisked eggs into a heated pan. "I was thinking...we could take Mara to the park. She's been begging to try out the new playground equipment they installed last week."

"Yay, park!" Mara cheers, clapping her hands excitedly.

Wade grins, his eyes lighting up. "Sounds like a plan. I'll pack us a picnic lunch. Maybe we can finally teach Mara the art of proper frisbee throwing without accidentally beaning any unsuspecting joggers this time."

You chuckle, remembering the last park incident. "Let's hope so. Mrs. Johnson from apartment 3B still gives me the stink eye in the elevator."

As you finish cooking the eggs, Wade assists by spreading butter on the toast and helping Mara set the table. Suddenly, Grandma Al emerges from her bedroom with her white cane in hand. "Did someone think of making breakfast for me as well?" The four of you settle down at the table and engage in lively conversation while enjoying your meal and sipping on coffee (or, in Mara's case, apple juice)

As you watch Wade help Mara wipe egg from her chin, you feel a surge of affection. This man, who had started as just a friend, had become so much more - to both you and Mara. The realization both thrills and terrifies you.

- - - - - - -

After breakfast, you help Mara get dressed for the park while Wade packs the picnic lunch. As you brush Mara's hair, she looks up at you with her big blue eyes - Logan's eyes - and asks, "Mommy, are we going to live with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al forever?"

The question catches you off guard, and you pause, the brush hovering mid-stroke. "Well, sweetie," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "Since it is their home, it depends. But for now, yes, we're staying here. Do you like living with Uncle Wade and Grandma Al?"

Mara nods enthusiastically. "I love it! Uncle Wade is so funny, and Grandma Al tells the best stories. But..." she hesitates, her little brow furrowing.

"But what, sweetie?" you prompt gently, resuming brushing her hair.

"But sometimes I wonder about my daddy," Mara says quietly. "The other kids at daycare talk about their daddies. Where's mine?"

Your heart clenches at her words. You've been dreading this conversation, knowing it would come eventually but hoping you'd have more time to prepare.

"Your daddy..." you begin, trying to keep your voice steady. "Your daddy had to go away for a while. But he loves you very much, even though he can't be here with us right now."

Mara looks up at you, her eyes wide and questioning. "Will he ever come back?"

You take a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. "I don't know, sweetie. Sometimes... sometimes daddies can't come back, even if they want to. But you know what? You have so many people who love you. You have me, and Uncle Wade, and Grandma Al. We're your family, and we'll always be here for you."

Mara nods slowly, seeming to process this information. "Okay," she says finally. "But can we still talk about him sometimes? I want to know what he was like."

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. "Of course we can, sweetie. Anytime you want to know about your daddy, you just ask me, okay?"

Mara nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Okay, Mommy. Can we go to the park now?"

"Sure thing," you say, relief washing over you that the conversation has ended for now. "Let's go see if Uncle Wade is ready with that picnic basket."

As you and Mara emerge from the bedroom, you find Wade in the living room, struggling to close an overstuffed picnic basket. He looks up as you enter, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, finally managing to snap the basket shut. "But hey, you never know when we might be ambushed by a family of hungry bears, right?"

With a chuckle, you help Wade with the picnic basket, while Mara runs off to fetch her favorite frisbee. As you all leave the house, the sun is shining brightly, and there's a sense of anticipation in the air. The laughter and chatter on the way to the park is a welcome distraction from your earlier conversation.

Arriving at the park, you release Mara's hand and she dashes towards the playground, her laughter echoing in the air. Wade follows her, a playful grin on his face. You and Althea find a nice spot under a tree, laying out the picnic blanket and opening the overflowing basket. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow on everything around you.

The park was alive with activity, and Mara couldn't contain her excitement as she ran from one attraction to the next. Wade was the perfect uncle, chasing after her and making sure she had the time of her life. Althea, on the other hand, was content feeding the ducks with leftover toast from breakfast. As you watch them, a warm feeling spreads through your chest.

- - - - - - -

As the day turns into evening, the exhaustion starts to catch up with everyone. Wade scoops up Mara onto his shoulders, her face lighting up as she takes another lick of her melting ice cream cone. Althea holds onto your arm as you all make your way back to the apartment.

The cool breeze brushes against your skin, providing a welcome refreshment. The sun slowly sinks in the sky as you make your way inside. You guide Althea to her room for some much-needed rest while Mara eagerly anticipates her nightly bath and bedtime routine. With everyone settled for the night, it's just you and Wade in the bathroom.

As the steam fills the room, Wade's fingers trace along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of warmth behind them. He backs you up against the sink counter, and you can feel his hard cock pressing into your hip. His mouth crashes into yours, and your tongues dance in a desperate, passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as his fingers trail up your thigh, teasing the edge of your panties.

Wade's hands slide up your body, gripping your hips as he drops to his knees. His breath hot on your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties, tugging them down. He takes a moment to admire your wet, swollen pussy before diving in, his tongue lapping up your juices. You grip the counter for support as his tongue circles your clit, his hands gripping your ass to pull you closer.

"Fuck, baby, you taste so good," Wade growls, his voice low and husky. He sucks on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he adds a finger, sliding it into your slick folds. He curls it upwards, hitting your g-spot with each stroke.

Your orgasm crashes over you unexpectedly, and you cling to him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Wade pulls back slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he tugs off his boxers, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

He lifts you up onto the counter, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lines himself up with your entrance. He teases the head of his cock against your clit, making you writhe with need before plunging into you in one swift motion.

The feeling of him inside you is almost too much to bear, and you grip his shoulders as he thrusts into you, his movements strong and steady. Your moans fill the steamy bathroom as he takes you harder and faster, his fingers digging into your hips.

"You like that, baby?" he asks, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck yes," you gasp, your nails leaving marks on his skin. He chuckles and leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. Wade's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts deep inside you, each stroke hitting that sweet spot that sends shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He pulls out of you, his cock still throbbing and slick with your juices. His hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it a few times as he leans in to press a hard kiss to your lips.

With a final groan, he pulls back and you watch in fascination as ropes of cum erupt from his cock, landing in hot streaks on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of it against your skin, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"Fuck, that was intense," Wade pants, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He leans in to trail kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his hands roaming over your body.

"Mmm, yes it was," you moan, your own desire still pulsing through you. You reach down to run your fingers through the sticky mess on your stomach, then bring them to your lips, tasting the salty tang of his cum.

Wade groans at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. "You're so fucking sexy," he growls, his hands sliding down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and it makes you ache for more.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately as he lifts you up from the counter. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist, while your arms drape over his neck as he carries you into the shower. The warm water washes away any thoughts of Logan, leaving behind only lingering sensations from a night of intense passion and pleasure. Your body still tingles with delight under the cascade of water, and you can't help but smile at the memory of Wade's skilled fingers playing your body like a finely-tuned instrument.

- - - - - - -

glossary: n/a

[ak319]

Weird Yan Cousin x reader (Platonic)

//Warnings: Mentions of prostitution, human trafficking, kidnapping, weird behaviour but not incest, gore)

Your life had taken such a twisted turn for the worse this year, leaving you wondering if you were cursed. First, your parents died tragically in a fire that destroyed their home. Then, you found out your partner had been unfaithful. Since you shared an apartment, you had to move out, but they stayed, and the two of you were still arguing about selling it to split the money.

As if that wasn’t enough, you lost your job just three days after the breakup--allegedly for poor performance, which was completely untrue. None of this was your fault, yet everything seemed to be spiralling out of control. You were teetering on the edge when you received a strange phone call.

It was from someone claiming to be a distant cousin, Nova Salem. The name struck a chord--she was from your father’s side, the daughter of your uncle Ralph. But you had never met her or any of that side of the family. Your father had severed ties with them long ago. Ralph was only his half-brother, born from your second grandfather, Edmund Salem, whom you’d also never met.

Her sudden call made you feel uneasy, but you were desperate for help, and she offered it without hesitation. Pushing aside all the questions swirling in your mind--about your family dynamics, her abrupt contact, and the series of unfortunate events that felt like a row of dominoes crashing--you packed your bag. The next day, Nova's chauffeuse, Robyn, picked you up from your friend's place.

Robyn was an odd one, giving you mostly one-word, cryptic answers to anything you asked. What really threw you, though, was the route she took. You’d assumed Nova lived somewhere in the city, but Robyn just kept driving... and driving.

Now, here you were, standing in front of a massive estate in the middle of nowhere. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Robyn suddenly spoke from behind you.

"Let's get you inside, ma'am." Robyn's voice cut through the eerie silence as you gripped the strap of your bag, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Um, are you sure this is--"

"Yes, it's the Salem estate."

You glanced around, trying to keep your nerves in check. It could easily pass as a horror movie set, noting the distant tree line, the stormy skies, and the endless dirt road behind. Was this even the right choice? Panic started to creep in. What if she's not my cousin and just stalked my family tree to lure me here?! I am so stupid!

"Welcome, cousin."

Your eyes snapped forward to see a tall figure standing in the entrance, finally registering. Nova, no doubt. She stood taller than you, with short, thick black hair neatly styled, wearing a black turtleneck beneath a long cloak-like robe, paired with black pants...and bare feet?

Before you could even react, she closed the distance and pulled you into a tight hug, muffling your greeting and leaving you a bit breathless from the unexpected embrace.

"I can't believe you're finally here! You see this, Robyn?!" Nova exclaimed, her large hand gripping your head and shaking it playfully. "My little sister is here at last!"

Robyn merely nodded and silently took your other suitcase inside, leaving just the two of you.

"S-sister?" you stammered, taken aback. Her eyes gleamed even brighter, if that was possible, the intensity in her gaze at odds with her composed appearance.

"Indeed, my soror," she affirmed, her hands now firmly grasping your shoulders. "I never got the chance to feel the love of siblings, and with all the family drama and stuff, I was always left out. I never had the chance to have any real connection with family. You’re the only cousin I have."

Her words tugged at your heart, though you couldn’t shake the underlying suspicion.

"No other cousins at all?" you asked, cautiously.

"Nope. My mother was an only child. Anyway, let's get you inside." Nova kept her hold on you, gently steering you toward the entrance. Just before stepping in, she paused, making sure you took off your shoes in the porch. "Enter humbly," she said with a strange conviction. "We are born of the earth, and to the earth, we will return. It’s only right that we honour our origin, for soil should never fear soil."

What? The statement left you puzzled, but you decided to go along with it, stepping inside the dimly lit hallway.

Candles? Really?

"Um, why are the lights off?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

"Electricity? Oh, I forgot--you’re a city girl," Nova replied, her tone almost teasing. "I'll ask Robyn to have the switch on for your room--the fan, the lights---but the rest of the house operates without it."

"Why, though? In this day and age? Like, nothing at all?"

Instead of answering, she simply let out a low, eerie chuckle, leaving your nervous laugh hanging awkwardly in the heavy air.

"Let me show you your room." Nova's voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor, where candle flames flickered against the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. The mansion’s interior had an unmistakably gothic feel, with dark wood panelling, high arched ceilings and classic, aged furnishings. The air was thick with an old-world charm as if you had stepped into a place frozen in time. The paintings on the walls, though faded with age, exuded an eerie beauty, depicting somber figures mostly of a woman--always the same portrait of her--and forgotten landscapes

You stepped inside the room, expecting more of the same gloomy charm, only to freeze in disbelief.

What the hell is going on?

"Why is it… all… pink?" you asked, blinking at the sight before you. The walls were plastered with Barbie stickers that looked as vintage as the rest of the house. The bed was oversized and covered in frilly pink bedding, surrounded by plush toys that had seen better days.

"Isn't this what girls love?" Nova said with a wide, innocent smile. "Like little sisters?"

You spun around, trying to process everything. "Hold up. I just met you for the first time ever, so can you please stop calling me your little sister? We're cousins and barely even know each other." Your voice rose as you gestured at the pink explosion around you. "Also, do you think I’m 12?!" The moment the words left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret. Nova’s smile faded, and she looked taken aback. Guilt set in as you realized how harshly you had reacted. She had offered you a place to stay during a rough time. Maybe you could have been more understanding and patient, especially considering she provided you with a bed and a roof over your head.

"Oh my God..." For Nova, that was the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed.

"Um... I--"

"ROBYN! ROBYN!" Nova’s voice cut through the air, making you back away nervously. Her gaze remained fixed on you as she continued to shout.

"Yes, ma'am? How may I assist you?"

"(Y/n)..." Nova grabbed Robyn by the collar, shaking her with surprising force. "My sister--sorry, soon-to-be sister--just had her first tantrum! All thanks to you, Robyn, you absolute genius!"

What in the world--is she being excited or just passive-aggressive? You couldn’t tell.

"It’s okay! I mean, I like it... It’s good."

"You do? You don’t want another room?"

"Um, if... it’s available th--"

"No, it isn’t."

"...this is it then... I guess."

"Robyn, get the food ready. My cousin needs her evening nourishment."

"Aye."

They left you standing in the room, utterly dumbfounded. Everything about this day--and about her--was making you feel dizzy. The way she carries herself, the way she speaks--it’s all becoming a blur. Something in your heart warns that this is going to be a nightmare.

But at least you’re not in some serial killer’s clutches, as you feared before entering. Being an only child and living in such a large mansion might have messed with her mental health, but you hoped it hadn’t gotten worse than this.

The sudden flicker of the lights jolted you from your thoughts, making your soul feel like it had left your body. The room’s colour was now painfully vivid, almost too much to bear. Honestly, the dim glow of the candles was easier on the eyes.

You soon found yourself dining with Nova in the grand dining hall, the two of you beginning to learn about each other. Mostly, you listened to her recounting her adventures. It was impressive how many languages she knew and the places she had visited, though she seemed completely oblivious to modern slang and anything related to media, which you found a bit amusing.

"Anthropologist, huh? Isn't it boring?"

"Boring?" She cackled, her laughter echoing through the vast room. "Absolutely not! I get to travel, explore, and find fascinating things." Judging by the eclectic items scattered around the room, she was certainly telling the truth.

"You seem to have a fondness for skulls."

"Oh! Haha! Aren't they so symbolic in their own way? They are empty, yet their hollow eyes seem to gaze into the essence of mortality itself. Each one holds the silent echoes of a life once lived, a reminder of our own fleeting existence and the stories that we leave behind."

"Are they real?"

"I leave that to the admirer to decide. What do you think?"

"Fake or maybe both, judging by how much you’ve explored."

"You think I’d bring skulls from my adventures?"

"Umm..."

Her laugh interrupted you again. "You’re so naive, (Y/N)."

Just as I suspected.

"Anyway, what about your love life?"

"I don't feel attracted to the idea of being subjected to bodily fluids, particularly in moments of passion. " You felt your appetite slip away.

That’s a rather...unique way to say you’re asexual and single...?

"Cool. But doesn’t it get lonely here?"

"Loneliness isn’t something I mind. Besides, I’m not alone--I have Robyn and now you. A little-"

"Cousin."

"Indeed, a little cousin." You picked up your phone and then realized something. "Oh, I need the Wi-Fi password."

"Sorry, but that might not be possible."

"What?! Don’t tell me you don’t use Wi-Fi! That’s atrocious."

"You see, this technology that the youth have become so attached to has many malevolent effects. I cannot let you be subjected to that."

"What do you mean?! I need to find a job! And how do you do your own work?" Her calm demeanour remained unshaken as Robyn appeared behind you, slamming a newspaper down in front of you. The suddenness startled you. What is it with these people and their jump scares?

"This is today’s paper and your source for finding work."

"Are you kidding me? I need Wi-Fi for my job. I do half of my work online!"

"I’ll need to observe the signs this week. If they are favorable, you might get access. Farewell, cousin. Have a good sleep. Robyn, please escort her to her chambers." You clenched your jaw as she walked away. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! WHAT SIGNS?! SO YOU DO HAVE WI-FI?!"

God, what is going on? Is this a fever dream?

You were absolutely enraged in the following days. Apparently, the signs were negative, which meant you were stuck with no FUCKING Wi-Fi!

"Maybe the signs will be positive next month."

Whatever that means. In the meantime, you faced a series of bizarre occurrences that only deepened the unsettling feeling about your stay here and made you question reality. Despite her insistence on not using electricity, the candles lit themselves as if by some hidden mechanism. You were certain she used Wi-Fi--how else would she manage her research and extensive travels?

Her behavior was equally bewildering. She walked barefoot, even in the muddy grass outside during the rain, and would spend hours out there.

Some events left you sleepless for nights.

You once saw her talking to a pillar in the lawn from your bedroom window at night. At first, you thought she might be on a call, but no. She was facing the pillar the entire time. And then there was the incident where she literally smelled your... period.

"Eat this," she said, offering you a bowl of literal pickles. You swatted it away.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"It’s to relieve menstrual pains. Although not scientifically proven, it is a good remedy."

"I’m fine. AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT AGAIN?!"

"Just a matter of having good senses."

In the evenings, she always visited you for tea, bringing her two black hounds along. Despite your protests, she continued to bring them inside. You hated how they always seemed to sniff under the bed, her dark, void-like eyes trained on them as if she wanted them to find something.

Wouldn't want her cousin hiding something, would she? Perhaps thinking she could slip away, unnoticed, back to her old life?

Due to the lack of Wi-Fi, you spent most of your time reading books and exploring the mansion, trying out the strange array of activities Nova had set up for you. She instructed Robyn to teach you various skills like shooting, wrestling, and knife throwing....? You enjoyed it though but yes, you were shocked to discover that Robyn wasn’t just a driver, chef, or butler but seemed to be some sort of retired hitwoman. She never confirmed nor spoke about herself, adding to the mystery.

Despite the chaos and strangeness, you found yourself adapting to this bizarre new routine, almost treating it like a vacation and unexpectedly lifting you out of your depression.

You tried finding jobs but with no success. Every time you found a promising ad, something mysteriously went wrong with the car. It always seemed to break down, as if on cue. The phone in the estate barely worked, with your friend's voice garbled into unintelligible fragments or the call cutting off entirely before you could get a full sentence in. It was as if the house itself refused to let any connection to the outside world slip through.

One day, you had had enough of watching Nova work on her COMPUTER in her study while you languished in boredom.

"Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but it seems I’ve actually found a job, and it's time for me to-"

"You haven’t," Nova said, her voice smooth but chilling as she stepped closer, her face half-hidden in the shadows. "Don’t lie. I despise liars."

"Nova, I’ve had enough of this. I’m sorry, but living here is overwhelming with all the bizarre restrictions, the eerie silence, and the lack of contact with anyone! I can’t stay here. I need to go out and find a job! I didn’t come here to live permanently."

"And you think you have a say in that, cousin?"

"Wha-" Before you could finish, a cloth soaked in a strong, suffocating chemical was pressed against your face. The world around you blurred and faded as you struggled to breathe, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You are not going anywhere, Duif." (dove, in Dutch)

You woke up to the unsettling sound of floorboards creaking and the ominous clinking of metal against metal. Your body felt unnervingly cold, and you soon realized you were bound to a chair with ropes.

"Awake, (Y/N)?" Nova's voice, as smooth and chilling as velvet, made your blood run cold. You shivered uncontrollably as you saw her standing a few feet away. Robyn was in another corner, methodically sharpening a row of gleaming knives.

God, no. This can't be happening...

"Please... Nova, what is happening?! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! Please!" You didn’t care that you were pleading and sobbing in front of this lunatic. Fear clutched at your heart, twisting it painfully. You regretted everything that had led you to this point. You’d already lost your parents, your partner, your job--was your life now slipping through your fingers as well?

"Shush. Don't be scared. I just want you to listen to me. And carefully." Nova said as she grabbed a stool and sat in front of you. Where are we even? Is this some hidden room? Your eyes darted around frantically, taking in the grim surroundings, chains hanging from the bloody walls, a nailed coffin standing ominously in the corner, a table cluttered with various torture tools that Robyn stood beside, and, bizarrely, a fucking jacuzzi in the corner.

"Listen, it's time I tell you the things you need to know. About me, this family and even yours. You see (Y/N), my father, Ralph Salem, he wasn't a good man. He was involved in all types of bad things. Especially regarding...women. I was a teen when I found out he was involved in trafficking girls, the reason he fucked around with lots of women and... young girls, simultaneously abusing my mother mentally and physically. When he caught her leaving with me, he killed her... in front of me. Imagine that, I couldn't do anything." She paused with a dry scoff, "You have seen that pillar right? The devil buried her under it. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to die but he kept me alive because I was his heir, with his fucking disgusting blood inside of me. So I waited, I became the perfect heir for him only so that I could kill him in the most brutal way...which I did," You whimpered at her dark chuckle as she wiped your tears.

"Do you know where you come in?" Nova's voice was icy as she continued. "I began researching you the moment I discovered your existence. I wanted some form of familial love, even after I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone." Abruptly, she rose and moved to Robyn, taking a freshly sharpened knife from her hands.

"Guess what I found? Your parents were my father's business partners at one point. You see these skeletons here?" She gestured to the grim collection. "These are the people I hunt, (Y/N)--the ones my father worked with, those entangled in this... industry. And I continue hunting them. So I did to your parents what I did to all of them. Robyn, show her."

The butler pulled a lever, causing a hidden closet to open. Inside, the bodies of your parents were revealed--half burned, half slashed, with their limbs gone, only torsos-making you scream in horror.

"The bodies at the crime scene weren’t theirs. I used my connections to save them for you--along with another surprise," Nova said, her voice dripping with cold satisfaction as she slid the door open further. There, your partner’s corpse was revealed, grotesquely nailed to the wall like a butterfly, their chest open and hollow, blood eagle...which Nova once told you about. Without warning, you threw up to the side, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You could barely breathe, each gulp of air shallow and shaky, and you felt the world closing in. Please just let this be a nightmare. Wake up (Y/n), wake up!

"Did I mention that I eliminate bad partners too? How could I let them live after what they did to my dear...cousin?" She stepped closer, the knife gleaming in her hand. You shook your head desperately, unable to form coherent words. With a swift motion, she cut the ropes binding you, forcing you to stand. Her gaze was fierce, unyielding.

"You, however , were innocent, unaware of your parent's past. So from now on, you are a Salem. You will live here, as you are meant to." Her gaze darkened. "This is your place, your family. And I won’t have you trying to run away."

You slammed the trunk door shut and turned to Nova, who was meticulously removing her gloves.

"He was quite the noisy one," she remarked with a nod. "Indeed, sestra. Though you did a commendable job tracking him, little nerd. Now, let’s head back. My favourite part awaits in the mansion."

Ah, yes, it was Wednesday--skinning day.

From a software engineer to an assistant to a serial killer cousin with an intriguing butler, you found yourself strangely enthralled by this new life.

‘I want this world to be rid of those like my father, who mirror him in even the slightest way, together with you, my dear cousin.’

(AN: I realised that Nova might have put her own childhood plushies in the reader's room, which tugs my heart😭my baby)

[likethe-month]

The Time Between Us

-Historical Yandere x Reader-

Yandere x Accidental Time Traveler Reader

This was so fun to write, and I have more for this particular story so I will probably post more soon.

Reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Yandere/possessive behavior, outdated ideas about gender, mentions of mental health, outdated ideas about mental health,

-

You are a college student writing a history paper about big cities in America’s Gilded Age when the dusty old PC belonging to the school sends you back to 1881.

You find yourself in the same building and room, but 143 years into the past. A man walks in and is utterly shocked to see you sprawled out on the ground in your confused state.

His name is James Harrington, and he is an architect who visits the school archives room to do his work. He is of average height with dark brown hair with a matching mustache and brown eyes that seem to linger on your bare legs for extended periods of time.

He informs you that ladies usually wear a skirt, and you start to think this man has never seen a bare set of women’s legs.

Your comfortable shorts and T-shirt aren’t exactly considered “lady-like” in this day and age.

It takes a lot of convincing to convince James you’re telling the truth, and he finally believes you when you show him your smartphone.

He is absolutely buzzing with questions, and you attempt to answer as many as you can before you figure it’s time to try and find a way back to your time.

Holding the paper in front of your face, you retrace your steps back to where you were sitting when you were transported here and closed your eyes.

Back in front of the school PC, you breathed a sigh of relief. Today’s events called for a night in, so you headed back to your dorm room.

Against the more logical part of your brain telling you to stay away from the computer lab, you make the decision to return.

You still have work to do, after all!

Over the course of the week, you go back to 1881, and James is always in the room, anticipating your arrival. You both decide it would be safe for you to stay in the room and only talk to James until he can get you some proper attire.

When he does, you sneak into a restroom when James assures you no one else is around, and you change into an outfit consisting of a high-necked blouse and skirt.

James feels proud, and he tries unsuccessfully to hide the light dusting of red on his cheeks. He informs you that you look like a “proper lady.” A part of him misses the strange, unfamiliar clothing and hairstyle you don, however, and he tends to mistake your modern ways for eccentricity.

James will absolutely romanticize the differences between the two of you, viewing your confusion as innocence, and his image of you makes his stomach twist in a way he's never felt before.

Then, he lets you know that his employer is hosting a dinner for his employees. He invites you as his date, and you eagerly accept, not willing to turn down the opportunity to see a lavishly decorated house belonging a Gilded Age businessman.

On the carriage ride there, he instructed you over exactly what to say and how to behave. Having seen your fair share of historical dramas, you were only half-listening, your eyes taking in every detail of the carriage.

The dinner goes well, and you even impress your hosts with your knowledge and mannerisms.

James' boss, Mr. Whitney, pulls him aside after dinner while everyone in the parlor room is deep in their own conversations.

“She’s a unique woman, indeed, Mr. Harrington. You’d be wise to keep a girl like that in your future prospects.”

Those words seemed to change something in James. Suddenly, he looked at you in a completely different way. Initially, he was planning on trying to persuade you to stay with him in 1881. He now knew that a real man, a successful businessman like Mr. Whitney, would take away your ability to choose. James would have to keep you here.

When you finish your drink, he asks you to join him in the ballroom where the other guests are dancing, and you do so, jumping a bit when he wraps a hand around your waist without hesitation.

He whispers lowly into your ear about how glad he is that you were “sent to him” as the two of you dance.

You grimace to yourself at his words and decide then and there that it may be a good idea to stay in 2024.

When you return for the final time, you plan on taking a walk through the city with your period-appropriate clothes to take everything in one last time.

You go back to 1881 and enjoy the sights while your final moments in the past last. You return to the archives room to be met with a sight that makes your stomach drop down to your feet.

James is holding the building plan, observing it with cold, observant eyes. You’re not sure what to do here. He’s holding your only way back home in his hands, eyeing it in a very strange way…

“Hello, James,” you say carefully. “Have you had a chance to enjoy the sunshine today?”

He turns to you briefly to signal that he’s listening. “You do understand why I have to do this, don’t you?”

You freeze, feeling faint. “Do what?” you say, trying to not let your desperation show. “James, what are you doing?”

Without another word, he rips the paper in two, then into four, then six, eight, countless pieces.

It takes everything you have not to fall onto your knees. You were trapped. You were trapped in 1881.

He looks at you, but before a taunt can escape his lips, you lunge at him, a scream ripping from your throat. Hands suddenly apprehend your attack, and your held firmly in place by two policemen who seemed to come out of nowhere.

“It really is so unfortunate,” James says, sounding almost bored. “She’s gone completely mad. I’m not sure what warranted this sudden change in behavior. I’m glad I was able to contact the authorities before she hurt herself.”

“These cases of women gone into hysterics are common. She’ll receive the proper care at Somervault Mental Asylum,” one of the men says, grunting as you thrash and shriek.

“I’ll visit you soon, dearest. For now, just make sure to get better,” James says, grinning wolfishly at you once the social workers weren’t looking.

You’re hauled off to the asylum, and for just a second, you believe you really would fall into insanity.

[cloudraker]

What would the tfp autobots (your pick) reactions would be if their neutral NB cybertonian ally goes, "Oh? You didn't know? I have a Conjux now :)" and brings the motherfucker predaking.

But hey! Atleast the predacon is a green flag. The man would do anything for the reader, respects them, and is utterly smitten. At that point the autobots wouldn't have to worry about him anymore since reader is their ally

This has been rotting in my inbox for so long,, anon if you see this thank you for your patience

TFP Preadaking with a Neutral S/O

Under the cut :)

Setting this after the war/the return to Cybertron

Assuming you didn't fight in the war, you're probably the most normal person he knows. You're probably the most normal person on Cybertron at this point. The others don't think much of it when you start spending more and more time out by yourself- there's a lot to take in now that the war is over and cybertron is so different

Your little adventures start at a few hours, then it's half a day, and before long you're gone for days at at time. That's when they start asking questions

Where have you been going? What could possibly be so important that you go missing for days at a time when there is- what do you mean you met somebody?

Having to explain that yes you met somebody and yes they're on Cybertron and well you don't know if it's a good idea if they all met him. It's all very "he goes to a different school you don't know him"

They eventually get you to agree and when you actually bring him around the Autobots are.. well they sure are there and that sure is a guy you've brought home

Predakind, to his credit, is on his best behavior. He's standing behind you (a respectable distance away from them) as you talk the others out of shooting him then and there

He doesn't stay long, much to your disappointment. A few conversations with both sides reveals their past history, leaving you caught in the middle.

The overall consensus on the Autobot side is "you're an adult, we can't stop you but it's also a really bad idea-"

Ratchet would be the most understanding- which isn't saying much. He's upset but he also knows you don't have the same feelings towards Predaking as he and the other Autobots do- to you, he's just some guy you met. While he makes his many grievances known, he also makes it clear that if anything happens you'll still have people supporting you

Magnus is.. conflicted. On one hand, part of him is glad that there's some sense of normalcy for somebody- a hope that things will be okay. On the other hand, he doesn't have an other hand

He doesn't count as an Autobot but Knockout would warn you against the predacon, calling him things like dangerous and a brute while also trying to dig any gossip out of you. Will begrudgingly make sure you're polished and shiny before you go out if you ask him for help. Very "you're going out dress like that?"

Once they get more familiar with the idea, Predaking starts making the occasional appearance

At first it's just flying by overhead, letting you know he's still around even if you haven't been able to see each other much lately. Then it's coming to meet you when you've got plans and then he's making very awkward small talk with Bulkhead while he waits for you to come out

Everybody starts to relax a bit when they see just how good he is to you. This hulking beast of a robot, built for fighting and dragged into a time not meant for him, bending to take your hand and kiss your knuckles whenever he sees you. How you never come back with a so much as a scratch on your pain and only with good things to say

He gets some serious side-eye when he enters the base for the first time, and everybody is a bit tense, but it (thankfully) all goes well

He's eventually asked to help with some repairs or some mundane task and- while somewhat reluctant- he complies. For you, of course, in an attempt to make life just a little bit easier

It's a very, very slow journey to having both your partner and the Autobots start to build even a semblance of trust, but you're willing to put in the work and Predaking is willing to put in the work for you

[mattyriddlesbitch]

The Princess and The Knight(Chapter Two)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the basilisk

By your second year, Mattheo had made a reputation of being a dick and getting into fights. Many people avoided him, only his few friends you met on the train on the way to Hogwarts talked with him.

And you. You tried, at least. He would give short replies the whole time. ‘Yes’ ‘No’ ‘Maybe’ ‘I don’t know’ ‘Okay’ “Whatever’ That was pretty much his whole vocabulary with you.

His friends were okay with you. Not particularly friendly or went out of their way for you, but they weren’t rude to you and you were never one of their targets, which you were thankful for.

Second year started, and that was the year that there was something roaming Hogwarts, killing students. You were terrified, as any normal person would be.

You sat down in Potions next to Mattheo the day after the first attack, still a bit shaken up from the news.

“Did you hear about what happened?” You asked Mattheo as you started setting up your things for class.

“With the cat? Yes.” Mattheo answered, seeming unphased.

“I can’t believe something like that could happen here.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It's just a cat. It'll be fine, probably.” Mattheo shrugged.

“What if it happens to a student though?” You ask, leaning forward to lean on the desk.

“Are you scared?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you, like he was confused about your reaction.

“Well, yeah. That could've happened to anybody. That's terrifying.”

“You don't have to be scared. Nothing's gonna happen to you.” His expression softened slightly.

“How can you be so sure? How are you not scared?” You asked, confused about his laid back attitude about it all.

He shrugged again, refusing to answer the questions. “Do you need me to protect you? Will that make you feel safe?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

It almost took you back for a second. He was sarcastic with you often, but the question caught you off guard. But you quickly recovered. “Aw, are you offering to be my knight in shining armor?” You smiled at him.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if. You're not a princess, you know.”

“Only princesses get knights then?”

“Correct.”

You were about to respond, but Snape spoke up, starting his lesson.

After some more attacks, the school implemented a rule that you couldn’t walk alone and to always walk with someone else. You didn’t really know anyone in your potions class other than Mattheo, so you weren’t sure who you were going to walk with, but you figured you’d find someone when the time came.

So now, potions class had ended and you were packing up, watching everyone walk in pairs or groups out of the classroom. You grabbed your bag and headed to the door, but noticed everyone was gone. You frowned, but figured since the halls were filled with students, you shouldn’t have an issue getting to your next class and headed out of the classroom.

“Breaking the rules now?” You heard Mattheo say after you took a few steps out the door.

“What?” You turned to see him pushing himself off the wall and coming to your side.

“Not following the ‘walking with someone’ rule. You’re alone.” He said, grabbing your arm to make you keep walking before letting go.

“Everyone had someone else already.” You shrugged as you fell into step beside him.

“I guess that leaves us then.”

“You didn’t want to walk with anyone else?” You asked curiously.

“They’re all idiots, I’m not walking with them.” He answered simply.

“You know, I think I recall you saying something about only princesses getting knights.” You said in a playful tone.

“Yeah, and?”

“Does that mean I’m a princess now?” You joked.

“And I’m a knight then?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah.” You smiled at him.

“Fine then, princess. I guess I’ll be your knight for our 5 minute walk to your class.” He said sarcastically.

He walked with you between classes when he could, still keeping up the defense that he didn’t want to walk with anyone else since they were idiots. When they finally lifted the rule, he walked you to class one last time.

“Guess you won’t be needing my protection anymore, princess.” He said as you approached your class.

“Unfortunate. I was getting used to you walking with me.” You said, pouting playfully.

“Not like you’re never going to see me again.” He rolled his eyes at your pout.

“Might as well, though. It was the most you ever spoke to me.”

“Oh, shut up.” He stopped in front of your classroom.

“Well, I guess you’re retired now, my knight. Your services were appreciated.” You said with a small smile, chuckling when he rolled his eyes again, but this time with his own small smile.

“You’re stupid.”

“I know.”

There was a small moment of silence as you stared at each other, finally breaking when another student squeezed past you two to get into the classroom.

“Well, I better get to class. I’ll see you later, Mattheo.” You said and headed to your classroom.

“Yeah, later.” You heard him say before he started heading to his own classroom.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@call-me-mishi @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @princessluvssleep @satosugu4-ever @reys-letters @mattiesgirl

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @reys-letters @mcdonaldshelppage

@shaquilles-0atmeal @feistyfox47 @gillyweeds @pluto-9456 @jooniebluesworld

@hereticdance @lxserriddle @cindyss @saint-marvel @atadoddinnit

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

hi!! I’m very aware that this was requested on the 13th of August, and literally over a month later I’ve finally managed to write it up. I feel unbelievably guilty for not getting it done sooner and I’m sorry it even took this long. I really really hope you enjoy it and I’m ever grateful for the patience 🤍🤍

title: there’s always another mystery

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: avery kylie grambs is spending a little too much time with your boyfriend than you’d like… but when jameson starts lying about it questions are raised and tension rises until it all bubbles over

warnings: mild swearing, violence, assault

a/n: the synopsis sounds really cringy so forgive me, this fic is kind of long and very dialogue heavy and ermmm… I hope you enjoy the ending ;)

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

You sit on the bed waiting for Jameson to arrive. You wonder how long he’ll take this time. You’d just seen him and Avery ascending the set of stairs that lead to his dead uncle’s wing. Him and Avery. The pretty new comer with those big hazel eyes and long soft hair, pocketing a billionaire’s fortune overnight. She had it all: the looks, the brains, the humour. She was perfection and that bugged you greatly. She was a mystery.

Literally. When Tobias had finally decided to fall asleep forever, she was the result, the heiress, the consequence. She was big masterful puzzle had popped out of nowhere, from nothing. Not that you hadn’t had you fair share of experience with that. You’d earned yourself a scholarship to one of the most prestigious private schools in Texas and raised from the ashes into a burning flame. Then you’d met Jameson Hawthorne.

He had always been an interesting character, you had just never expected his interest in you. You were the scholarship kid nobody knew or cared enough to know and somehow he was intrigued. He had found you studying the the library one day and the two of you just clicked, it was like you’d known each other for years. He’d walked you home that night and had done so ever since. From that day on you were the closest of friends. It wasn’t long before you met his brothers, mostly absent mother and extremely judgemental grandfather. Hawthorne house became a second home. The two of you sat for hours, mostly on the rooftop, staring up at an endless sky of stars and talking about anything and everything. You actually don’t think there’s a topic you haven’t covered. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly… then he started dating Emily.

From the beginning, you didn’t like her at all, but you bit your tongue from pouring out your true feelings to Jameson when he’d asked for an opinion on her. You didn’t want to make his relationship feel awkward. She was everything you didn’t want him to be with. And she wasn’t you. It shattered you, but you saw how his face lit up when he mentioned her name and you vowed you wouldn’t ruin that for him. To see him that happy was worth it.

You should’ve trusted your gut. Everyday since she broke his heart, you beat yourself up for not saying anything. There were so many chances and you took none of them. She used him, abused him and left him to rot, you supposed she didn’t account for that fact that you’d be there to save him. And then she died. It was one destructive milestone after another. Explosion after explosion. But you helped Jameson through the hardest time of his life, you fixed him when he was too broken to mend.

It wasn’t until then that you realised you loved him. I mean you’d always known you’d loved him, but never in a romantic way, it had always felt so plutonic. But judging by the pure fury that built up inside of you when Emily was mentioned, the passionate way you protected and defended him in situations and the fact that you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until he couldn’t speak, you were pretty sure you were in love. But you never acted on the feeling, too afraid you’d ruin the closeness you had. It wasn’t until one night when you’d been stargazing together that he took your face in his gentle palms and kissed your tender lips. The whole act took you by surprise suddenly, but it didn’t stop you from kissing back. It felt so natural, so normal, like it was supposed to be this way. He was sweeter than you’d imagined but in the best way possible.

“I’ve always loved you,” he’d whispered as you’d pulled away, “always.”

“I’ve always loved you too,” you’d smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with colour, “and to be honest I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You can’t remember when it was established that he was your boyfriend but from that kiss onwards, that’s what he was to you. He was still your best friend but in a different way. There was more chemistry and kissing, but the banter remained the same. The two of you were actually planning to go on a backpacking trip around Europe but then Tobias had died and it was another round of pain and healing for Jameson, who turned to alcohol for respite. But then the will happened and Avery Kylie Grambs had appeared out of nowhere and the old man’s final game had unfurled. So the mystery girl had been an adjustment for you to say the least.

Avery wasn’t bad. In fact you liked her a lot, you could see yourself forming a friendship with her, a tight bond but the problem was the sheer amount of time she was spending with your boyfriend. After discovering she was the key to solving his grandfather’s final mystery Jameson became obsessed. He craved the answers, thirsted for knowledge. You didn’t mind at first, you let him play his game, you only ever objected the dangerous parts when he risked himself getting hurt. Other than that you said nothing. Then he let on that this all had something to do with Emily. Emily had destroyed him, from inside out. A broken, bitter shell was formed over the real Jameson. You had worked so hard to get him to see that he wasn’t broken or damaged and you feared this might undo it.

But you knew how important Emily had been, how much of his life she’d ruined, you knew Jameson needed the closure and Avery would help him to get there, but after that you expected their interaction to die down. But they didn’t. Not in the slightest. You weren’t jealous at first, you trusted Jameson and didn’t see Avery as a threat, but after a while the meetings felt too frequent and too elongated. It was a little suspicious. When you’d asked Jameson he insisted it was all part of the game.

But then that game finished and it opened up another. Of course there always had to be more to a mystery. They were Hawthorne’s. But you’d had enough, you were tired of the endless myserties. Was it so selfish to want things to go back to how they were before? When the old man’s games were not as dangerous, a little less time consuming and uninvloving of recent billionaire girls.

You’re reeled in from your deep train of thought as Jameson walks in. You look up from your desk, placing your pen down. You flash him a sweet smile in which he returns.

“So where have you been?” you ask, a hint of a forged giggle in the back of your throat.

“Nowhere,” he shrugs, the blatant lie so easily escaping his lips cuts right through your heart.

“Nowhere with brick dust on your blazer and shoes?” you raise an challenging eyebrow, arms folded across your chest.

“I climbed a wall,” he says. Lie number two, you make a mental note.

“I saw you with Avery and Xander in Toby’s wing,” you say bluntly, your face expressionless so he can’t read it.

“Are you spying on me?” he replies, gaping.

You give a delicate shrug in response and don’t answer the question directly, “what were you whispering about?”

“What do you mean?” he furrows his brow, confused.

He’s playing dumb. Fine. He can play dumb. But he won’t able to for much longer.

“I mean what were you and Avery just whispering about,” you ask directly, your tone flat as the tyre you’d burst on his car earlier that morning.

He hesitates. He doesn’t want to tell you, that’s obvious.

“Oh, was it personal?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, opting a cold, curt, feigned sort of concern to your tone.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, “well kind of…Tobias Hawthorne is alive.”

You try not to the let your jaw drop, “your grandfather?”

How had that slimy bastard managed to fake his own death and-

He shakes his head, “my uncle.”

Of course, why hadn’t you seen it sooner? Him and Avery going into his wing, the sneaking around. But then how is the question, Toby had died before Jameson had even been born.

“And so the plot thickens,” you muse, pursing your lips.

“As always,” he says, flashing you a lopsided grin that was so like him, it reminded you of the old Jameson. The one that you got closer and closer to forgetting the less you saw of him.

“Who else knows?” you ask.

“The family,” he shrugs in response.

“And Avery?” you prompt.

“She knows,” he nods, not meeting your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, “you didn’t mention her name?”

“She was implied when I said family,” he replies.

“She was and I wasn’t,” you ask, the words not being filtered through your brain before you blurt them out. You don’t know why it hurt you so much, it just did.

“It’s not like that,” he shakes his head.

“Okay,” you reply flatly

He shoots you a knowing look and sighs, “y/n.”

“What? I said okay,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up into the air, “that means it’s okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay.”

“You don’t sound okay,” he says gently.

“Well I’m fine,” you snap.

“I didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re part of this family,” Jameson replies, trying to make up for it.

“Forget it, I don’t care,” you retort.

“Common y/n,” he groans.

“No it’s fine, I don’t care,” you shrug, very obviously caring as your voice is high pitched and you’re being far too defensive, “do what you want.”

“She just worked it out,” he explains, “she found out that-“

“I said I don’t care,” you say sharply, eyes pinned to his.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, taking a step closer.

“No I don’t,” you shake your head in denial, “end of story, what’s for dinner?”

“I know I’ve been with her a lot recently,” he sighs.

“A lot is an understatement,” you blurt out, unable to stop the thoughts that circle your mind from finally surfacing.

“It was all part of the game, you understand,” he says as a statement, not a question.

“Of course I understand,” you reply, your voice a little colder than you’d intended but it’s too late to take it back.

For a split second hurt flashed across Jameson’s features but he swiftly continues, “it was the old man’s game.”

“It always is with you,” you say curtly, with an eye roll.

“You knew what you were getting into when you became my girlfriend,” he says, growing irritated, “I warned you-“

“Getting into?” you scoff.

“The old man always has a game,” he presses on, regaining his cool.

“And you always play it,” you snap, the fury inside of your raging a little too violently to be tamed.

“I have to play,” he says, his voice strained.

“No. You don’t. You think you have to play and your grandfather knew that,” you reply, “he knew you had a thirst to play and wouldn’t resist. Prove him wrong Jamie, make him stir for the flipping grave.”

“And what if I don’t want to do that,” he asks, raising his voice slightly.

“Then you’re not the Jameson I know,” you murmur in a low, dark voice.

“Maybe I’m not anymore,” he shrugs, “people change.”

“No,” you shake your head, “people have changed you, one person in particular.”

“Avery is just a friend,” he rolls his eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re getting so hotheaded about it!”

“You’re dimming yourself down for her,” you yell.

“So what?” Jameson challenges, making the volume of your voice.

“That’s not you,” you tell him.

“Maybe it is now,” he cocks his head to the side.

“You know you’re just talking shit,” you spit.

“I like her company,” he shrugs, “and I don’t want to prove the old man wrong, I want to make him proud.”

He’s trying to get under your skin and you know it. He’s doing a good job.

“You can’t live your life trying to prove something to him, he won’t be proud, he’s dead Jameson,” you snap.

“I know he’s dead,” he shouts, “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Good, now that information is consolidated maybe you’ll come back and live your life,” you say, the harshness in your tone making your throat ache.

“I am living my life,” he retorts.

“Running off with girls to the Laughlin’s cottage at 3am, that’s living your life?” you ask.

“Is this still about Avery?” he asks, then laughs, “you’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” you yell, “you have spent the majority of the past few weeks at her side, working this shit out and I’ve been patient and I let it happen and I waited but now there’s more to this mystery and I can’t do it again and it’s not fair for you to put me in that situation again. So forgive me if I’m sounding a little pathetic.”

“Fair? My uncle is still out there, still alive,” he replies.

“You never even knew him,” I roll my eyes.

“He’s family,” he roars.

Something about Jameson was that he was loyal to the bone when it came to family.

I shrug, “so was your grandfather and look how he treated you.”

“Don’t speak a word against him,” he says, his voice low, warning, dangerous

“You were never good enough for him and that killed you,” I reply, my voice failing to stay stable, “he broke you and I helped fix you and now we’re going back around the same cycle. Why are you still letting him continue to break you?”

“I said don’t speak a WORD against him!” he tells, his voice powerful

You could cry. You feel like it. But you don’t. For some reason you’re past tears now.

“But when you did it was okay?” I scream back, “when you’d come to your bedroom a wreck and shit talk him, who listened to you then huh? Don’t throw this all back in my face now, don’t you fucking dare.”

“I’m not trying to-“

“Well you are,” you cut him off,

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, “look I don’t know what the hell you’re on this afternoon but-“

“What the hell I’m on?” you scoff.

His face softens and so does his tone, “all this arguing we’re doing, it’s not us,” he says, “it never has been so are we really going to carry on this stupid fight?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Avery?” you ask, it’s petty but you didn’t feel like being mature in this moment

“This keeps circling back to her,” he sighs with an eye roll.

“You have spent the entirety of the morning with her,” I stated “again.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he says.

“Seriously?” I ask, my jaw hanging slack.

“What?”

“You know what, it doesn’t even matter,” you shake your head and begin to walk out.

“Sweetheart,” he says, lunging forwards to grab your arm. You spin around and can see the desperation seeping from his eyes.

“I’m going out,” you tell him harshly,

“Where?” he asks immediately.

“For a walk,” you shrug, going to turn again. But he holds you firmly in his grip.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“No, I need headspace right now,” you snap coldly.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he nods, eyes wide with understanding. You hated that he was being so nice when you were supposed to be mad at him, it wasn’t fair, “but at least take a bodyguard with you.”

“No,” you immediately say.

“Yes,” he argues back.

“I’m not one of you, Jameson,” you quip. You can see in his face that pains him but you’re too furious to care, “people aren’t coming for me, I’m not taking a bodyguard.”

“Look I’m sorry about before but-“

“It’s not about you Jameson,” you yell, “I just need a walk.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry and please baby, take a bodyguard with you,” he begs.

“I’m not going to,” you reply, “I need to be alone.”

“Fine, okay then,” he shrugs, pretending not to care, “yeah fine, go have fun in nature or something.”

“I will,” you snap, charging out, slamming the door behind you.

***

You start walking with no intention of going anywhere. In a headspace of anger, your pace is swift and dominant. You needed air, you needed a clear head, you needed to get away. Bringing a bodyguard felt claustrophobic. You didn’t want another person breathing down your neck. You just needed to be alone for a while. A million and one thoughts swarm your mind. He probably complained about you to Avery, you think, kicking a rock violently. He’s probably with her right now, telling her what an annoying, selfish, jealous person you are and she’s probably comforting him. The thought of it makes your stomach squeeze.

It was getting darker and colder by the second. In your rage you’d forgotten to bring a hoodie and now you’re absolutely freezing. The street lights flicker on and you suddenly realise you have no idea where you are. You’re cold, alone, lost and a little hungry. You pray it doesn’t start to rain. You get out your phone quickly to look on google maps, but two red words flash up: no connection. Great. Just when you thought today couldn’t get any worse. You wish you hadn’t left the house now, but didn’t know which way to turn to walk back. You walk around the corner of a tall white building, hoping to see a signpost nearby.

That’s when you notice the footsteps of someone behind you. You turn absentmindedly to see a stranger dressed in all black clothing. You couldn’t properly see their face or decipher whether they were a man or woman. Feeling a little sceptical, you choose to cross to the other side of the road, trying to shake or anxious feelings that were creeping in. You spin the ring on your finger, trying to breathe in and out slowly. You side glance at the figure a few times to see that they’re still on the opposite side of the road. You exhale and turn the corner, feeling stupid for getting so het up over nothing.

You hear more footsteps and paranoid you look behind. You feel sick. The mystery stranger is back. Panic seizes your throat and you walk a little faster, noting their feet also pick up the pace. You turn a second corner. So do they. A thousand and one questions flashed up in your mind. What did they want? Why were they following you? And more importantly how long had they been following you for? You’re breathing heavily, maybe too heavily. You don’t want them to know you’re scared.

You fumble to reach your phone, hurriedly finding your contacts. You click Jameson’s name but the call fails. Your eyes flick to your internet, still none. You try again, the cycle repeats. Tears well up in your eyes. You were hopeless, helpless and frightened to death. You begin to fiddle anxiously with your necklace trying to work out what to do next, but your mind was blank. You couldn’t think. The person was a good few meters behind you now. A silent tear of rolls down your cheek as you carry on walking forwards, pretending you’re going somewhere in hope the follower might get bored a leave. They did not. You bite back and audible sob and notice one bar lights up in the top right hand corner of your phone screen. You have one bar of internet and you’ve never felt more relieved. Your finger rushes to hit the call button. One ring and he picks up. It’s a miracle.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, a sense of relief and a smile in his voice.

“Jamie,” you say, your voice more panicked than you’d intended.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is immediate and assertive but thick with anxiety. He can sense there’s something wrong, he knows.

“Jamie there’s someone following me,” you hyperventilate, the sharp sudden breaths hurting your chest.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice shaky, “and I’m panicking.”

“Okay, don’t worry, just keep walking straight,” he instructs, “okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Just breathe,” he soothes, “I’m tracking your location.”

You exhale unevenly and carry on walking.

“Are you near any buildings?” Jameson asks, strategically. You can tell he’s concentrated.

“There’s a housing complex and a few shops across the street,” you describe.

“Good,” he replies, “cross the road and go into one of the shops and stay in there.”

“Okay,” you answer, jogging across the road, taking note of anything that might help Jameson find you.

“What’s the name of the shop you’re going to go into?” he asks, “it might help me track you a little faster.”

You step back to read the cursive white letters, “Betty’s,” you reply, stepping in.

“That’s it?” he confirms.

“That’s it,” you say, carefully stepping inside, seeing the follower cross the road in the refection of the shop window.

Your heart thuds in your chest as the little bell rings to announce your entrance in the shop. It was one of those little knick-knack type shops, small but compact. You pretend to admire a china tea set.

“Are you inside?” Jameson asks, his voice washing some sort of comfort over you.

“Yes,” you say quickly, subconsciously tracing the tablecloth deign with your index finger.

“Have they followed you inside?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, though you haven’t looked up, the shop bell definitely has not rung since your arrival. You are the only customer in this shop. You look up and see them standing outside, you catch their eye and fear flicker through you as you quickly turn away, jolts of sheer nauseating panic runs up and down your abdomen, “Jamie they’re waiting outside, oh god Jameson they’re waiting outside, for me to come out, oh god.”

“Hey! Hey! You have the stay calm,” he says sharply but kindly, “as long as you’re in there you’re safe and I’m on my way now.”

“You found where I am?” you breathe, sounding too much like a child than you care to admit.

“I’m getting into the car as we speak,” he replies.

He’s coming. You tell yourself. You’re going to be okay. You say in your head.

“Stay on the line with me,” you blurt out, “please.”

“Of course baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, the concern in his voice made you yearn to be in his arms.

The other end of the phone goes silent except for the sound of a car engine, gently groaning in motion. You try to distract yourself by admiring the little collection of ceramic mouse figurines and try to give all of them a name. That’s when you catch the stranger in your peripheral.

“Jameson I’m scared,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “I’m really scared.”

“I’m coming, just hang in there okay,” he comforts “breathe for me.”

“Jameson,” you exhale, your hands becoming increasingly more restless.

“Hey, sweetheart, take a breath with me okay?” he says, “together?”

“Together,” you nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you, but somewhere deep down you know he knows you’re nodding.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth, okay?” he replies.

I’m through your nose and out through your mouth. You repeat the motion over and over with him over the phone, until you’re bored.

“I’m nearly there,” he mentions after a while.

“You promise?” you say, your breath hitching.

“I promise, just stay where you are,” he says calmly.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Sorry honey we close at 11:00,” comes a voice.

It makes you jump at first, as you yelp in surprise at the old woman beside you. Where had she appeared from? You drop your phone and it crashes to the floor. You realise for the first time how tightly you’d had it pressed to the side of your face as the cold air rushes to that spot and you feel the sticky sweat. You scramble to pick up your phone.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Jameson quickly, before turning the the woman, “sorry, would I be able to stay a few more minutes?”

She glances disapprovingly at you and then her watch, “I don’t think so.”

“It won’t be long, I promise,” you rush.

“I’m sorry but I have to lock up now,” she shakes her head and waves the keys between her fingers.

“Just until my boyfriend gets here,” you try again, desperation slicing through your tone.

“You’re not purchasing anything and it’s closing hours,” she replied sternly, “I need to lock up.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Store policy I’m afraid,” she shrugs flatly.

“I’ll but the whole damn place of you let me stay,” you exclaim, not really sure why the sentence left your mouth but it was too late to take it back now.

“This place isn’t for sale,” she says sourly with pursed wrinkled lips.

“Not literally,” you sigh, “look I’ll make a purchase.”

“No purchases after 11:00,” she responds, blunt as a baseball bat.

“But you just said-“

“We’re closed,” she snaps.

“Please just let me stay for five minutes,” you ask, hoping by some miracle she’ll agree.

“I really can’t do that,” she sighs, with an almost apologetic look on her face “I’m sorry.”

“Two minutes?” you try to compromise.

She stares through you, “I’m going to call the police.”

“There’s someone out there following me outside,” you burst, “so please, if you’re going to call the police on anyone, do it on them.”

The woman gently cocks her head to see the mysterious figure outside the window, her eyes widen by the tiniest fraction and she stares back at you. You wonder what she’s thinking. She chews her lip thoughtfully for a while and then finally replied, “there’s a back way out, I can take you through to there.”

“Thank you,” you exhale in relief.

She walks hurriedly walks away and you follow her, ending up at the very back of the shop. It couldn’t be seen from the window, but how long would it take for the follower to realise? Not long enough, you pray, hoping Jameson would arrive in time. There is a small green door with a lacy translucent curtain across the window.

“Here,” she nods towards it, “get home safe.”

“Thanks,” you say gratefully.

You almost trip out of the back door but managed to stabilise yourself, the old woman slams to door and it nearly clips your heals. You quickly press your phone back to your ear, realising Jameson is still on the line.

“Jamie?” you say.

“I’m still here,” he replies, reading your mind, “Betty’s a bitch.”

You choke on your own spittle, “what?”

“Betty,” he states as if it’s obvious.

“Betty?” you question, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Well I assume it’s her name,” he says, you could practically hear him shrug, “the woman who just kicked you out of her shop.”

“Oh, you heard all of that?” you say.

“I did,” he confirms, “but I’m two minutes away now.”

“Two minutes?” you check, hope returning your voice.

“Yeah,” he confirms gently.

“I’m still at the back,” you mention, “but I’ll walk to the front to meet you.”

“Okay,” he replies, “I’m so close sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“Okay I-“

All the air is knocked from your lungs as you turn the corner and someone grabs your shoulders and it’s so sudden you forget to scream. Fear runs cold and thick through your veins. You can’t move. The grip is strong and foreign, their hands are callous and your arms ache the longer you’re in their hold. Paralysed, you fail to struggle free. It all happens in a blur. You feel yourself being thrown to the side and you land on the pavement with a hard thump after rolling over your ankle. Pain seizes through it and you bite back a yelp. You look up, struggling to your feet and see Jameson has arrived.

Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.

He’s fighting the mysterious follower who you can now see is man. He’s a few inches taller than Jameson and has much more muscle but Jameson is quicker, more agile. You wish you could help him but the searing agony deriving from your ankle would’ve only made him slower. So you’re now just watching. It’s a tête-a-tête of frantic hits and blocks, all scarily aggressive. The look in Jameson’s eyes is not one you recognise, it’s like the green had been frosted over with ice. The follower lunges at him suddenly and an audible gasp escapes your lips. He has Jameson in a headlock. You stumble forwards, ready to attack him from behind when Jameson twists the man’s arms in an awkward direction, leaving him vulnerable. In the split second Jameson knees him in the stomach and begins to punch him repeatedly.

Jameson’s jaw is clenched, his hair is ragged and wild. A flow of crimson red liquid falls from one nostril and from a new wound just above his eyebrow. His eyes are fierce and gleaming, like a predator on its prey. You’re not sure you know who this man is, he’s not Jameson, he’s a mutation, a weapon, a unrecognisable being.

“Jamie,” you murmur, your voice shaking. You can’t stop yourself, you’re too scared.

He can’t hear properly, he doesn’t even acknowledge you. He carries on punching and punching but the follower seems to be cold out.

“Jameson stop! You’re scaring me!” you yell, fear in your throat but fire in your belly.

He looks up and he freezes, all but his hands that are shaking from the adrelenline rush. He looks down at his bloodied knuckles to the limp figure on ground, then back to me again. He can see the fright in my features that I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s okay, let’s go home.”

“Is he dead?” you say, the words so much harsher than you intended.

“No,” he shakes his head gently, “just knocked out, I promise.”

“I-“ you can’t finish the sentence.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs tentatively, wrapping an arm around you to still your trembling torso.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to sound strong, but synthetic strength only made you sound weaker.

“You’re not fine,” he shakes his head.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you sigh, then look at him with sparkling eyes, “please?”

“Of course,” he says, concern bleeding across his features.

You begin to walk but have to bite your lip as pain rips through your ankle with weight pressing down on it.

“What wrong?” Jameson asks, his reaction instant and lightning fast.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, trying to carry on without displaying the pain.

But he’s too vigilant for his own good, “are you hurt?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply, in denial, “I’m fine.”

You’ve found that things are easier to believe if you say them out loud. Unfortunately not in this case.

“Where?” he asks, stopping still, pressing gently down your arms to check for tentative pressure points.

You pull away, “Jamie I’m-“

“Where?” he asks firmly, giving me that look.

“I just rolled over my ankle,” you sigh, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” he offers.

“No,” you say quickly, too quickly.

The truth was, you did want to be carried. The thought of being in his protective arms, pressed up against his chest was very appealing. But just like he could see your winces and hear your sharp breaths in, you notice his. The fight hadn’t been easy on him, no matter how stubbornly he tries to hide it.

“Just support me and I’ll support you,” you reply.

“I don’t need support,” he says.

You stare at him, “you don’t have to be the knight in shining armour with me, I thought you’d stopped that.”

You’d made a pact at the start of your relationship that Jameson couldn’t play that role. You were there for each other, it wasn’t one or the other.

“Fine,” he grits through his teeth, “we’ll support each other.”

You both walk, labouring, limping and leaning on one another. In the silence of it all you have time to think about all that had happened, a chances you hadn’t previously had with your mind always preoccupied on something else. A tidal wave of guilt almost drowns you.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out suddenly, feeling all of a sudden emotional, as tears run down your face.

You didn’t realise how much yours been keeping it in, your fear, your pain, your guilt, your sorrow.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, caressing your cheek, “shhh shh stop that now, hey, hey.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” you shake your head, “I shouldn’t have got so angry and walked so far alone and it was dark-“

“Y/n, breathe,” Jameson murmurs, “I’m not angry, it’s not your fault, I’m just glad you’re safe now, okay? I would never let him hurt you, you know that right?”

You nod.

“Let’s get to the car and then we can go home, okay?” he suggests softly.

“Okay,” you murmur in response.

He wraps his arm back around your shoulders and holds your hand with the other, steering you towards his car. He walks around to your door, looking over his shoulder cautiously, making sure you are in and safe before he thinks of himself. You’ve never felt safer in a car, your back pressed up against the seat. Your leg bobs up and down uncontrollably, even when your try to stop it. Seems the adrenaline had gotten to you more than you’d thought.

Jameson is swift to get into the driver’s seat and start the car. He silently places his hand on your upper thigh to still the shaking. The warmth of his familiar touch relaxes some of the built up worry in your chest. One knot has been untied from the incomprehensible ball.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod numbly. You didn’t reply with words in fear that you’d spill out the truth. Lying to Jameson was a challenge.

“Stupid question,” he mumbles, “of course you’re not.”

“I think I’m still trying to process what just happened,” you murmur, not a complete lie. You’d only processed parts.

“Okay, that’s fine, take as long as you need,” he says reassuringly, “I’m here if you want to talk.”

You nod again. Then take a breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, choked up with emotion, “I’m sorry for fighting, I don’t know why I get so annoyed it’s just-“

“It doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you’re safe,” he tells you gently.

“Safe,” you repeat, the word has an odd texture on your tongue.

“You are safe,” Jameson replies firmly.

“I am safe,” you repeat, believing it a little more.

***

The two of you had gotten back to Hawthorne House late. No one was around so no questions were asked. But whilst you showered and changed Jameson insisted on getting the security team on it and you didn’t object. You join Jameson in your shared room after your shower, he’s already waiting with open arms. You clamber into the bed and fall onto his chest. The smell of him indescribably addictive. He wraps his arms around your torso and you wince, tenderness spreading across the tops of your arms and upper back.

“What hurts baby?” he asks, eyebrows knotted with worry.

“Nothing,” you reply, shrugging the pain off.

He looks at you, “you don’t have to lie to me.”

You’re silent for a few beats but then finally murmur, “my arms.”

“Let me see,” he says.

“It’s okay-“

“Let me see,” he whispers, sending a hot shiver down your spine. 

You slowly slip of your jumper and expose the rounded bruises from the follower’s fingers. You’d discovered them moments ago in the bathroom, it must’ve been from where he’d grabbed you. You can’t see Jameson’s face but judging by the thick blanket of tense air that had enveloped your surroundings, you have a good idea of what he’s thinking.

“He did this?” he asks, tracing every bruise so delicately it nearly tickles.

“Jamie he grabbed me,” you explain.

“I’ll kill him for laying a finger on you,” he spits, a foreign violence in his tone you weren’t sure you liked.

“Don’t say that,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“What?” he looks at you in wild disbelief.

“Talk of killing him,” you close your eyes, “you’re not a murderer.”

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you dare argue with me,” you snap, a raw intensity in your voice. You struggle to recall where you found it.

Silence you like a car hits roadkill. Swiftly and out of nowhere with a sickening thud.

“You know you scared me back there,” you murmur, meeting his eyes shyly.

“Me?”

“When you were punching him…” you trail off, “you looked so angry.”

“I was angry” he retorts, “no one should do that, especially not to you. Never to you.”

“Yeah but I really thought you might…” you stop yourself.

“I might what?” he urges you to continue.

“I don’t know,” you say trying to brush it off, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No it does,” he replies, “you thought I might kill him right?”

“It just wasn’t you punching that guys, it wasn’t my Jameson,” you murmur.

“Your Jameson doesn’t protect you,” he yells and you flinch slightly.

You don’t meet his eye, “no, not like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…” he sighs, “I never would’ve forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“It would’ve been my fault for storming off like that, god I’m so stupid,” emotion rises thick in your throat.

“Hey, stop beating yourself up about this,” Jameson says, “it was my fault in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Yes it was, let’s just forget about this okay,” he insists.

“But what if he comes back? What if he knows where I am? What did he want with me Jamie? What if-“

“It’s all going to be sorted okay, we have so many staff on it right this second,” he says tracing the outlines of your knuckles, “you just need to breathe.”

“I am breathing,” you grit through your teeth.

“What’s worrying you then?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you reply, biting back a sob.

He senses the emotion, “come here.”

You practically collapse into his arms, keeping your tears at bay just barely. There’s something about being in his arms, against the warmth of his body that made the bad things go quiet for a second, that stopped the overwhelming voices in your head, that silences your thudding heart. But even now, things were unusually playing on your mind, despite the comfort.

“I don’t know Jamie,” you murmur into his chest, “I’m scared and exhausted and anxious and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Let me help you,” he whisper, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“I don’t think you can,” you mumble, your eyes grappling to stay open.

“I will find a way,” he says, you almost laugh at his stubbornness.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you reply, your voice breaking, “I don’t know anything bad to happen.”

“You’re not going to lose me and I won’t let anything bad happen,” Jameson kisses the top of your head, “I promise.”

“I don’t feel safe,” you admit.

“What’s making you feel unsafe baby?” he asks, aching concern in his voice.

“Before today I’d never even imagined potentially being kidnapped and it just happened today,” you ramble, “and that means there’s so many other things that I couldn’t ever have imagine that might happen.”

“If we spend our whole lives in fear of what might happen we’d forget to live,” Jameson says.

You meet his emerald eyes and try not to melt, “I’m scared.”

“There’s no need to be,” he comforts, “I’m here.”

“You promise?”

“Always,” he says. His voice is so sure, so strong. It almost makes you believe.

“And you’re not going anywhere?”

“Not anywhere without you,” he grins lopsidedly, the real Jameson shining through making your cheeks tint a pale pink.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, the residing guilt flowing back in.

“If you apologise one more time I’m going to do a lyrical dance routine to ‘hot stuff’ only dressed in sequinned hot pants and a top hat,” he says.

“I think I’d quite like to see that,” you can’t help but smile, “I should apologise more often.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. You nuzzle into the nape of his neck and allow one tear to slip from the under your mask. Just one.

“I’ve got you baby and I’m not letting go,” Jameson whispers.

“Please don’t let me go,” you murmur, sounding as small as a child.

“I’m not, never ever,” he murmurs, kissing your nose, then cheeks and then a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile, a fluttery feeling in your chest and you kiss him back. His hands snake around your waist, the tentative touch making you tingle a little. You wish you could just focus on Jameson and nothing else but the problem was the scene kept replaying in your head. The man grabbing your shoulders, the bruises left on your skin, the smell of his cologne in your hair. He was everywhere.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay,” Jameson soothes, “you’re safe now.”

It’s only then you notice how your entire body is shaking, your bones rattling together. You try to stop but you can’t. He brings you into deeper his arms and holds your quivering limbs together. You wonder if he let go you’d fall apart all together.

***

You didn’t go to school the next day, instead you stayed curled up in Jameson’s arms as he gently traced spirals across your back with his index finger.

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so in love.

***

Thursday rolls around far too quickly and you know you have to go back. Word about the stalker had been kept quiet but you know you couldn’t stay under your duvet forever. No matter how badly you wanted to. So you wake up early and take your time getting ready. Jameson sleeps like the dead all the way through it, even when you blow dry your hair. You meet Xander who is already at breakfast, eating muffins. You’d promised the week before you’d come and observe his biology project for him, so he could have a second opinion and you didn’t want to break that promise.

“You know you really didn’t have to come,” he says, still chewing, “after you know…”

“I want to Xand, really,” you say, “I can’t avoid it forever and I want to see your project.”

“If you’re sure?” he checks, with an eyebrow raise.

“I’m sure,” you nod, “I swear.”

“Well then, have a muffin or two and then we’ll be on our way,” he grins, handing me one from the plate in the centre.

“Roger that sir,” you smile back, saluting him as you take a bite.

***

School was difficult that day, not the content, just the energy. The problem was you had none. And it was one of those long modified timetable days where your first break of the day was lunch and it wasn’t even until 2:00pm. That in itself was a mood killer. On top of that you couldn’t get the follower out of your head. The events played on some sort of endless loop in your head. You wonder who it might be, why they might have been following you of all people. It was known you were dating Jameson but not that known. Apparently, according to Xander, Oren had been put on high alert and Alisa was working on finding their identity. That should have brought you solace. It didn’t.

But the more you thought about it the more your realised that part of you selfishly didn’t mind that it has happened too much because last night you’d felt more connected to Jameson than you had in forever. It had been a while since it had just been the two of you, no mysteries, no arguments, no Avery. Yesterday had solely been the two of you, all day. Just in the presence of one another but, at school, you hadn’t seen Jameson all morning, seen as you’d left for school early with Xander but he had sent you a string of text messages that you only see at first on your very late lunch break.

morning sweetheart

are you okay??

I know you left early with Xand but I’m still worried about you

text me for ANYTHING okay??

I love you xx

And then an hour later…

you still haven’t text back

are you okay??

I bribed the woman at the front desk for your schedule so you’re probably in class right now

unless you’re not!!

just answer me when you can okay

I love you

Then in the next hour…

ARE YOU OKAY!?

I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN THE HALLWAYS

PLEASE ANSWERRR!!!!

I love you ;)

You almost laugh at the cuteness of it all. You type a couple of messages in response incase he bribed the headteacher to let him use the announcement speaker to find you next.

I’m fine Jamie, don’t worry

late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner

They bleep through one after the other, sending through.

meet you after school for our plans

You close your phone quickly and get to the next class, holding your books tightly to your chest. The next few periods better go fast.

***

They didn’t go fast. In fact every millisecond felt like an hour, the day seemed endless. You get out of class and don’t pass Jameson in any hallways yet again sk decide to go to your usual meeting spot after school. You send him a quick message.

waiting outside business studies

You wait for him by the curb. One minute passes, he’s been a minute late before, many times. So you figure it’s okay, leaning on the wall behind you. Five minutes go by next and most kids are leaving or have left the school premises. Maybe his class has run over, your brain suggests. Then it is ten minutes, barely anyone is walking out. The odd person, sure, but never Jameson. You begin to wonder where he might be. Detention? No, he always finds a way out of those. Basketball court? No, he doesn’t like to play with the other guys. Classroom? No, he wouldn’t spend longer than he had to in the school. You sigh, ten minutes isn’t that long after all. Maybe you’re overreacting. Still, you send him another text ‘hey, are you nearly here?’ Half an hour passes. That’s when you get really confused. He should definitely be here by now. Slowly you wonder down several hallways, checking your phone for any messages, calls or voicemails, but there are none. Few students are around and every time you look into a classroom Jameson isn’t there. You make your way back to your original spot, incase he turned up. Forty minutes pass and you try his phone for the last time, ringing him rather than just texting but it goes straight to voicemail. So you resort to calling Xander, hoping he’ll be able to help and ease the tightening knot of worry growing in your chest. There is only two rings.

“Hello y/n,” Xander’s cheerful voice says down the other end, “is there any reason you’re phoning the best Hawthorne on this fine afternoon?”

“Yeah, sorry Xand,” you reply, “but have you seen Jamie anywhere?”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells me, “and I think I saw him come in earlier, I just presumed you were with him.”

Too many juxtaposed emotions hit you at once. Relief, he’s okay, he’s alive, he’s at home. Hurt, he left without you, abdomen or forgot the plans you had. Annoyance, he’d left without sparing you a second thought.

“No,” you mutter, “I wasn’t.”

“You sound annoyed,” Xander comments.

“I’m fine, sorry Xand,” you reply, putting some more life into your voice to wash away and tense notes, “it’s been a long day.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighs, “but hey it’s the weekend now, fancy a game of strip bowling when you get back?”

Strip bowling was one of your favourites, mostly because you were very good at it and barely had to strip and also because Jameson usually ended up in his underwear. Xander must’ve sensed the false happiness in your voice and suggested it to be nice.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say, trying to let him down gently. You did appreciate the gesture, but the thought of playing stop bowling right now did not match the mood.

“Yeesh your day was that bad huh?” he asks softly, playing it off as jokey.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him quietly.

“I’m here you know,” he reminds you.

“Thanks Xander,” you reply, but don’t elaborate. You didn’t feel like talking right now.

“Talk to Jamie, he’ll know how to make you feel better,” he suggests sweetly.

You smile through your pain, “yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

You hang up and exhale slowly, he doesn’t know that Jameson is your problem.

***

You get back to Hawthorne house about twenty minutes later. It sounds relatively empty, though it always does, seen as there were so many possible places for people to be. You wander through the entrance, trying to think where Jameson might be. You hear footsteps approaching and spin around to see a blonde in a suit. Wrong brother.

“Have you seen Jameson?” you ask him before he can greet you.

“He was upstairs earlier, with Avery,” Grayson replies.

All the air is knocked from your stomach, “Avery?”

“You didn’t know?” his expression flashed for a fraction of a second into something between guilt and shame before it is composed.

“No…” you trail off.

“Oh,” he replies, with an unreadable expression back on.

“Well thanks anyway,” you say with a synthetic smile.

You walk away quickly before he can respond, looking up with glossy eyes. You ascend the stairs quickly and don’t look back. You feel you need to see for yourself did this is true. But where would he take Avery? You could only hope it wasn’t the roof where the two of you stargazed, that would hurt like hell. You trail down a hallway where voices are coming from and stumble upon a door that is ajar. Inside, Jameson talking to Avery. Your stomach rolls uncomfortably. He’s positioned barely a foot a way and he’s laughing. He looks so beautiful when he laughs, but now it’s ugly. It’s like biting into something sweet and getting a sour taste. It’s not the fact that she made him laugh, it’s the fact he’s laughing like he laughs when he’s with you. That’s the thing that cuts deep. The way his eyes are sparkling and his smile is wide and carefree, you thought he reserved those kind of smiles only for you.

Clearly not.

You turn your back on the scene and rush to your bedroom. You swing the door open forcefully and then slam it shut behind you. So he’d ditched your plans for her. Great. You sigh as you collapse down on your bed feeling an unwelcome tightness squeezing across your chest. Tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t like to cry, you rarely ever did. But right now, you couldn’t do anything about it. The tears just flowed down your cheeks and your whole body shook with each sob. Your heart physically ached, something you hadn’t thought was possible until this moment. A searingly mournful agony rippling through the left side your the chest. You felt so vulnerable, so exposed. You didn’t stop crying the blanket was soaked through, weighted with wet emotion and your throat was so raw it was numb.

***

You binge movies for the rest of the evening, the only feeling left in your system was anger, you’d cried all the sadness out. You felt so done with feeling shit and binging movies gave you that outlet of doing nothing, thinking nothing and feeling nothing. Exhaustion is beginning to win the ongoing battle between the two of you when you hear soft footsteps approaching. Jameson had been practically out of your mind the whole evening, Disney movies are a good distraction, but that is until he walks in. You hear as the door handle turns and he enters. Your eyes flicker to the clock, it’s just gone midnight.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking his suit jacket off and undoing his top button, “you’re up late.”

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes glued to Elsa’s performance of ‘let it go’ on the tv screen.

He immediately notices something is off and walks over, “woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh so now you care?” you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.

“What did I do?” he asks quickly, cluelessly.

“You are unbelievable,” you exclaim, switching the movie off before hurling the control across the room.

Jameson stares in disbelief, “why are you so pissed off?”

“You don’t know why I’m annoyed?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“No…” he replies hesitantly, like he’s treading on egg shells.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,”

“Oh my god,” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head, “tell me you’re joking, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he says, the desperation and worry evident in his tone.

“Do you even know what we were supposed to do today?” you ask with a withered look.

A moment of realisation strikes and you notice as his eyes widen and his jaw drops a little.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I forgot,” he says, actually looking guilty. You almost feel sorry for him.

“Yeah I know,” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

“There’s just been a lot going on lately and with the following and then I was days behind on the thing with Toby and-“

“Am I some sort of burden,” you retort, eyebrows raised.

“What? No! I never said that,” he exclaims, his voice raised.

“Okay,” you shrug, nonchalantly. The small display of passive aggression would get under his skin, prickling it like an unscratchable itch.

“Last time we argued it ended with you being followed, I don’t want you in that situation again,” he says, his voice dominant and definitive.

“You’re making this about you!” you yell, rage blinding your vision, “what you want, for me!”

“Oh so you want to be followed, stalked?” he asks, with a forced cruel laugh.

“That’s not what I said,” you snap, eyes narrowed.

“Sounds like it,” he bites back, the bitterness in his voice hurting you far more than you cared to admit.

You don’t say anything for a long while but eventually cut through the long silence, “I even text you about it,” you say quietly.

“What?” he replies, head cocked to the side, confused.

“About tonight,” you say, raising your hands into the air with an eye roll.

“No you didn’t!” he yells back, defensively.

“Yes I did,” you scream.

“Look, this is the last message I got,” he exclaims, shoving his phone’s bright screen into your face.

‘late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner’

You stare at the message and then quickly open your phone to double check. Your message hadn’t gone through, you look up glaring at him. You were mad he didn’t remember, mad the message never went through and just mad in general.

“It didn’t go through, I couldn’t help it,” he defends.

“You still forgot,” you press on, getting mor annoyed by the second, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you have plans with your girlfriend.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he replies and you can see the meaning in his face, “we’ll reschedule.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” you tell him nonchalantly. You know you’re being petty, but you can’t help it.

“Oh common y/n,” he says.

“No I don’t,” you shrug. He’d messed it up, that opportunity was passed now.

“Look I just needed to-“

“What you needed to do was stick to your word, what you needed to do was remember when you had things plans, what you needed to do was think before you acted,” you say in a low voice, interrupting him, “but you did none of that.”

“I can’t have a life now?” he scoffs, growing irritated, “that’s not you.”

“What’s not me?” you scowl.

“This, right now,” he says, “you’re being so controlling!”

You raise your eyebrows, almost laughing, “controlling? You started this argument!”

“No I didn’t!” he argues.

“You know what, if you didn’t want to have it out then you shouldn’t have asked why I was angry,” you roll your eyes, “so just forget about it.”

“Oh would you STOP doing that,” he yells.

“What?”

“The whole ‘forget about it’ thing, it’s so fucking annoying,” he retorts, anger creeping up in his tone.

“You know what else is annoying?” you ask him, “when your boyfriend is hanging out constantly with some random girl who inherited all his grandfather’s money, that’s really fucking annoying.”

He’s silent. Nothing to say for once. No witty reply, no deflection, nothing. His face is impossible to read, blank.

“Hang on, that’s not quite the right word,” you continue, “what about aggravating, demoralising, hurtful-“

“You know I never would’ve pinned you as a jealous possessive girlfriend,” he shakes his head, with a cruel chuckle.

“I’m not!” you snap, “but you lied Jameson, why did you feel the need to lie!?”

“Lie?”

“You told me a few days ago you’d climbed a wall and if I hadn’t known any better I would’ve believed you,” you say, “but you weren’t climbing a wall, you were with Avery.”

“This,” he says exasperatedly, “this is exactly the reason I lied.”

“What?” you ask.

“This overreaction,” he explains, making some weird hand gesture.

“I’m overreacting?” you scoff, as your eyebrows shoot to your forehead.

“Completely,” he exclaims.

“So let me just get this straight,” you begin, “you’d have never pinned me as a jealous possessive girlfriend but you lied to me about ditching our plans to spend time with another girl because you were worried about an overreaction? Right, that makes sense.”

“I’m sorry,” he exhales, “I’m sorry.”

“No you can’t just say sorry and then think it’s all going to be okay,” you shake your head, “sorry is just a stupid word, it means nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to say what I said just now and I am sorry that I hurt you,” Jameson says desperately, “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not just that! You blew off our plans for her,” you yell with a sob, “so yeah that kind of fucking hurts.”

“Sweetheart I didn’t mean to-“

“Yeah well you did,” you laugh bitterly, aggressively wiping away your tears, “and I’m crying over it which is just stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he tells you gently.

“Yes it is stupid Jameson,” you snap, the tears only flowing thicker and faster, “I feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t,” he insists.

“Well I do, I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot for fighting with you, I’m an idiot for getting myself followed, I’m an idiot for thinking that someone could actually love me, I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner and I’m an idiot for crying over it all now,” you snivel, roughly scrubbing your tear-stained cheeks.

“Woah, hey,” he says, “sweetheart I love you. Just you.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like it lately,” you say, choking back a sob desperate to leave your throat.

His face softens, “sweetheart…”

He reaches out to touch me but you flinch away. His gentle touch is only a reminder of the good person he is and how much you love him for it. And you can’t afford to fall for it, not again, the pain was too much.

“You’re hurting me Jamie,” you say, your voice breaking as you jab a finger to your heart, “this is hurting me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, as his eyes mellow.

“If you want to be with her I’d rather you just tell me,” you whimper, “it would save me the pain of all this back and forth and sneaking around and finding out. Just tell me straight.”

“I don’t want to be with Avery,” he says, “I never have.”

“You don’t look at me how you look at her,” you say bitterly, getting it off of your chest.

“You’re right I don’t,” he agrees. Your heart plummets, here it comes, the confession, the break up, the empty sorrys and eyes filled with tears. “I don’t look at you like I look at her, because I look at her like any other person on this planet, but when I look at you I’m looking at my world. And I’d sure as hell hope that differs from the look that I gave to everyone else.”

A wave of emotion coats your skin, soaking you through. His world. The words repeat over and over and over until you feel delirious.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” you whisper.

“Of course I do,” he sighs, “don’t you understand? I love you, it’s always been you, it will never not be you! You’re my person, you’re my other half, I was supposed to meet you and fall in love with you. You give me purpose and passion and so much more. When you called me the other night after our fight I’ve never been more frightened in my life, I was freaking out over here. I’ve never felt so panicked, so sick with the thought of someone being hurt. I’m in so love with you that I can’t even explain it and I can’t believe I led you to doubt it. Avery is a friend, I promise, she means nothing to me compared to you, trust me. How can I prove that to you?”

“I don’t know Jameson,” you shout, your head aching from this endless circle of arguments.

“Then marry me!” he yells, then his voice softens, “marry me.”

You freeze, every muscle in your body suddenly falling into a state of paralysis, “what?”

“You heard me,” he says, his expression too serious.

“Jameson,” you murmur, barely getting his name out.

“Marry me.”

a/n: I’m a sucker for fat dramatic impulse decisions (it’s a problem, you may have gathered from my more recent fics) SOZ GUYS 😘😘 anywayyysss the time frame is roughly (and I mean very ROUGHLY) based around chapters 11-13 of the Hawthorne brothers incase you were wondering

thanks for the req anon, so sorry again for the wait, hope you enjoyed the read 🤍🤍 if you made it to the end and didn’t DNF halfway through, well done!! can you guys tell I got way too carried away, this fic was so all over the place but I posted it anyway bc yolo

there will be no part 2!! sorry!! I really need a break from reqs… you decide how you answer 🤭🤭

TIG masterlist

[skrrts]

Home Is ✧ yunho version (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x jeong yunho ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, romance ✧ word count: 1,2k

You have found the love of your life, and now the two of you are ready for the next step in your relationship: moving together. Neither of you can wait to finally be able to spend every day together but it's out of the question ... the whole progress looks a lot more casual and aesthetical on social media than it actually is. Chaos. You can't wait to finally be done with unboxing the last pieces of clothing and get comfortable in your new bedroom but then there is Pudeongie, who had been banished to now spend his days in the armchair in the corner of the room. Why do you feel so judged and how come Yunho is so cute about this?

a/n: #3 of the little mini series and can't believe we already wrap it up next week, September really passed by so quickly. it just made sense to give this plushie some screentime, he's very loyal with his life on yunho's bed

Did you always own that many sleeping shirts? You sighed as you looked at the box, still trying to somehow shove them all into the corner of the wardrobe. Yunho had been humble, just as always and he owned so few clothes that you wondered how he always looked so fashionable while you had so many and still failed to ever put your mind on outfits. Maybe you should have bought a larger wardrobe after all.

You loved your new home and after weeks of hard work, there really only had been a few details left until the two of you finally settled. The apartment belonged to one of Yunho's relatives and thanks to that, instead of being forced to rush and get all done in a weekend, the two of you took the time, setting all up and making tonight the first one where you would sleep here.

The stunning new large bed was the highlight of the bedroom and your amazing boyfriend had given in to your wish for one of those bed canopy decorated with fairy lights.

Everything was perfect, if not for the judging glances of a plushie that was now sitting in the small armchair in the corner of the room.

The plush dog had been the very first thing you noticed when you stayed at Yunho's place for the first time. Your boyfriend had been more of a minimalist and allergic to colors, so the brown plushie had been a hard contrast to all the greys and black of his room. Yunho said that it was a gift from a good friend, handmade and based on a silly design he came up with.

The plushie had been there from the beginning of your relationship, it napped in bed with you but after moving, it felt natural that it received a new place. Now, why did you feel so watched and judged? He shared years with Yunho, it was time to grow up!

You blushed, clearing your throat for your silly thoughts when the door opened and Yunho, came in, balancing a tray with cups. The smell of pumpkin spice latte and fresh brownies from your favorite bakery immediately made you smile as you only moved a little. Your boyfriend sat down by your side, smiling.

"You stored in clothes all afternoon. I thought it was a good time for a break. I made sure to take a photo of those cat cups so Wooyoung would stop texting us if we finally tried out his gift," Yunho laughed as he offered one to you. Ah yes, your friends had the most interesting presents to celebrate how two of their closest friends finally moved together after more than five years of dating.

You carefully sipped on it: "Thank you, this is so nice... I never really had carpet before but I can see the benefit now."

You chuckled and Yunho smiled, moving closer so he could hug you from behind, eyes wandering over your bedroom.

"Mhm, not that cold flooring will ever stop me from kissing you just at every corner and spot in our little home."

His words were full of pride, you loved how domestic Yunho was. He really embraced building all of that furniture together with your dad and starting to cook for you, making little snacks, and taking over chores you didn't like.

"Our home is almost perfect," you mumbled placing the cup down. Yunho blinked, tilting his head: "Almost? What's missing, love?"

You pouted a little: "Not missing, it's just him. He makes me feel so guilty."

You pointed toward the plushie and Yunho's gaze followed, blinking before laughing.

"Pudeongie? What has he done?" that cute little smile already hinted he knew it was just a silly moment.

"He judges me, look at him! He has been kicked out of bed and I am not sure if he will ever forgive me," you pouted again and Yunho couldn't stop himself from smiling.

Your boyfriend stood up, picking up the plushie to move over, sitting by your side again.

"I believe, this is just his resting face, like Woo. Look at him! He's all soft and loving!"

Yunho pouted cutely as he hugged it tightly and you couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes playfully, giggling.

"Of course, it hasn't to do with you being biased at all."

He loved that plushie and so did you. Of course, it had been part of many fond memories of your relationship.

"I am sure, it will be a change but he will get used to it. In fact, maybe all he needs is company!" Yunho winked and tilted his head slowly. You sipped on your cup again, before placing it aside.

"He is very handsome. So fluffy and tall, maybe I should take him to bed with me tonight, for the best cuddles!"

Now it was Yunho who was pouting: "Hey! The first night in a new home is important... I am very fluffy as well."

You couldn't hold back a laugh, placing a kiss on his cheek and then on Pudeongie's. "I think, you might be right and it's a draw. So what do we do about it?"

Yunho smiled at you, before slowly standing up and placing the plushie carefully back on the armchair. Then, he walked over to one of your wardrobes and pulled out a big body pillow, taking a marker and drawing an adorable face on its cover before placing it next to his plushie.

"There, all he needed was the perfect one by his side. I am very knowledgeable of just how that is what one needs," he insisted. You joined his side and he hugged you without hesitation.

"Very true. Maybe we can get it some fluffy ears too, so they match better," you looked up to Yunho who looked fondly at you.

"I am very blessed that I am loved by a person who accepts my fond former roommate," he whispered and kissed you. This was silly but you'd not want to have it any other way.

You sat down again, this time on his lap, offering him a few bites from the cookie he brought.

"Mh, the bakery at the corner of the street is really nice. We should invite Seonghwa next time, they sell really delicious-looking slices of strawberry cake."

Yunho was comfortable, he rambled on, and shared his explorations with you and what he liked about the new neighborhood. It warmed your heart to see him getting used to living here with you as quickly now.

"If we do that, he might come over often to visit," you chuckled.

Yeosang and Yunho had been living together since starting college and just remained that way long after picking up their jobs. When their contract had come to an end, it made sense for them to move on and it must be quite a change for them.

You intended to give Yunho just as many special memories in this place.

"Now then," you whispered, grinning.

"Shall we go on and give them some privacy? I feel, there is quite a long list of things I always wanted to do in our first home together," you teased and Yunho looked at you, winking.

"Well, since the list is so long, we better get started."

He took your hand and pulled you along, the bedroom door falling shut behind you.

[hippotooth]

OC Deep Dive Questions

Thank you for the tag, @theameba1436 ! This was fun to think about and answer!

I’m not sure who’s done this already or not, and no pressure of course, tagging:

@d-saster-chron-cles @dirgecomic @geckogeckogecko @sunflowergem @adorablebanite @archduchessgortash @mj-bites

@erme-aeterna-arts

Anyone else who sees this and is interested please feel free to join in too! I love getting to know the details of everyone's Tav/Durge.

Questions/Answers for my beloved durge ~Tuatha~ under the cut

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Tua’s biggest fear is that she is unlovable and that getting close to her only brings suffering.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People being indecisive. She loses patience quickly when people dither about – particularly if someone changes a plan that’s already been committed to.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A collection of fancy perfumes, neat looking bones, a well-cared for plant.

What do they notice first in a person?

Physical threat – Tua’s first assessment upon meeting someone is how easily she could take them in a fight, if they’re armed, etc. – like Mac’s Ocular Patdown from IASIP.  

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

10 – Tua handles pain easily, she’s quite used to it. She’s trained as a monk and has supreme body/mind control which she can distance herself from her body easily when anything gets too intense.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Fight! Tua likes to fight and is often looking for an excuse to start one. She’s a resist durge, she tries to be ‘good,’ (if only to gain approval from others) but if she feels there’s any way she can justify the bloodshed, however flimsy the excuse, she’s happy to do so.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Tua is a durge character. She never knew her mother and was bounced around between foster families in Baldur’s Gate for most of her childhood. Many of these families were abusive towards her and she was eventually taken into the Bhaal temple after killing one of them. She does not claim any family.

What animal represents them best?

Mongoose!

What is a smell they dislike?

Tua doesn’t like the smell of cities – she gets overwhelmed and irritated by the fusion of smells you find in them – cooking odors, waste, animals, wells, smoke – all these smells individually are fine but their fusion in an urban setting offends her.

Have they broken any bones?

Many at various points, she doesn’t remember most of them.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Off-putting and intense. Tua vacillates between being very intense and smiley when trying to appear friendly or intensely withdrawn. She has very limited social skills.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

No preference! I’d say most consistently she likes transitional hours, like dawn and dusk.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Tua adores bitter flavors and her favorite food is leafy greens. She hates the taste of fatty meat.

Do they have any hobbies?

Tua likes collecting perfumes and the fancy bottles they come in. She initially started stealing them from her victims as a trophy – she enjoyed bathing herself in the scent of her victims, being able to walk amongst the city cloaked in a symbol of her kill with no one the wiser. Once Gortash noticed this hobby he took to gifting her luxurious perfumes as well.

Tua also like keeping dangerous animals as pets, gnolls are a particular favorite of hers. She spends time researching different creatures and doing experiments to see how they may survive in captivity.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

“You like me, you really like me!!” Tua would be very happy anyone cared enough about her to throw her a party. She would probably cry.

Do they like to wear jewelery?

Tua enjoys jewelry, however, she finds it can be a hazard while fighting so she rarely wears it. She normally has some stud earrings in. She likes to steal jewelry and gift it to her lovers, she enjoys dressing them up.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Extremely messy.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Shame and longing

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Linen – breathable, easy to move and fight in, easy to clean

What kind of accent do they have?

The standard in-game accent

[sufferu]

Thinking about the Anastasia Camp in Arc 3 because holy shit, practically that entire camp was legitimately going out of its way to try and yank Subaru back to his senses and he has NO IDEA.

Julius is obvious, everyone knows at this point that his entire duel was him trying his best to prevent Subaru from getting dragged out and slaughtered in the street. But like, Anastasia did not have to go THAT FAR out of her way to try and teach Subaru a lesson. Girl literally set up the most obviously identifiable trap in the world with all of the tells perfectly aligning with the flaws she believed she saw in his character, told him to his face where he screwed up and what he needed to work on in order to not screw up next time, and then made a show of walking out as a group with all of her mercenaries just to point out the very obvious signs that the flaws she had just pointed out had prevented him from noticing. And also — someone else pointed it out, but it’s arguably implied that she only decided to do that after hearing that Subaru had picked a fight with Crusch Karsten like THREE DAYS after Julius had apparently completely failed to teach him that very necessary lesson about MINDING YOUR TONGUE. Which is just — she heard about that and went “Od Laguna that boy is legitimately going to get himself murdered ten times over if I don’t do anything to stop him isn’t he” didn’t she?

But it’s not just them because Ricardo was ALSO fucking in on it. We don’t see him until the final loop, but when we do he seeks Subaru out almost immediately and starts subtly gauging him out, seeing how he reacts to him mentioning Julius and the Royal Selection Ceremony and the White Whale and everything, clearly weighing his conclusions about Subaru’s reactions to all of that to the story he obviously heard from either Julius or Anastasia after the Incident at the ceremony. He even starts giving Subaru bits of advice because it becomes clear that Subaru is SO fucking stupid. Like, Subaru asks him what is. Probably a really racist question about whether he feels weird about riding a Liger — being a demihuman and all — and Ricardo makes a show of being very casual as he answers it by saying that “ah, well, this is an animal and I’m not, so there’s that” before moving on to basically say “word of advice: never ask anyone that again” and he does it nonchalantly enough to not make a big deal about it while also getting across that what Subaru just said could very easily be taken as an insult worth fighting over. And then he goes out of his way to save Subaru from the Whale at one point, getting his mount sliced in half and himself very seriously injured in the process.

And then to top it all off, the minute Julius sees Subaru again he gives him such an obvious test that Mimi almost ruins it by calling him out on it, in a way that very much mirrors the test Anastasia gave him in that failed loop, goading Subaru into a negotiation about Why the Anastasia Camp should continue to help them fight the Witch Cult without telling him that they were already planning on doing exactly that anyway. He even ends by nodding and saying that he’ll give Subaru’s efforts a “passing grade.”

Like, the Crusch Camp was helping Subaru a bit more explicitly — healing his gate and all — but that was very much a transactional exchange, with Crusch even explicitly stating that she will only ever help Subaru with his endeavors if there is something in it for her and her Camp. Meanwhile, for someone known as the Merchant Princess, Anastasia and her companions were being way more altruistic in their attempts to actually do Subaru some good. Aside from Rem, the Anastasia Camp may genuinely have been Subaru’s closest ally within that entire Arc, from start to end.

(Fuck, even in the IF route connected with this Arc. It might say something that Halibel is the one who houses Subaru and Rem (and even helps Subaru land a job) in Sloth:IF, considering that he’s got very strong ties to Anastasia.)

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym AU Wip (Part 16)

After Sanji’s nosebleed stopped, they finished eating in silence - both a little lost in their own minds. Zoro thought about the possibility of Sanji getting a nosebleed because of him and not because of high blood pressure. Sanji, on the other hand, thought desperately about anything different than Zoro, saying he has a vagina paired with his very hot body! Fuck he always knew he was into guys, too - maybe even more than into women. But if a guy had a vagina? He felt the tickle of another nosebleed and thought about dead dog puppies and sad things like that to stop it.

“What’s for dessert?” Zoro asked with an impatient smile.

Sanji looked up. Fuck him; if he were a bit more confident, he’d say “me”. But he couldn't…He couldn't say that, right? He didn't even know if Zoro was into him.

“Vanilla ice creme with hot Raspberries, if you want? Since you don't like sweets too much, I thought the sourness of the Raspberries would be a good pair with the ice cream.”

“Never tried it, so why not?”

Sanji beamed at Zoro, and honestly, that was enough to endure a bit of sweet food. Zoro helped put the dirty plates into the dishwasher and sat down on the bar chair again. He already loved watching Sanji cook - even if he just heated a bunch of frozen Raspberries. He took out two fancy-looking bowls and put the ice creme into it - topping it off with the Raspberries. They took the bowlers over to the table again and sat down. Sanji’s eyes were glued to Zoro as he took the first spoon.

“Aaaand?”

“It's…not as bad as I thought?” Zoro offered - despite the sour Raspberries it was still too sweet for his taste.

“You’re a bad liar!”

“I just don't want to make you feel bad.”

“Thanks for that,” Sanji smiled. “If you want, you can leave this for me and take the rest of the Raspberries.”

“You sure?”

Sanji nodded, and Zoro pushed his bowl over to him. After that, he went to the kitchen again and grabbed the pot with the warm berries. Coming back over, he heard Sanji snort and look at him unquestioningly.

“Seems to be delicious when you can't even get another bowl but eat straight out of the pot.”

“Am I not allowed to?” A tint of red colored Zoro’s cheeks.

“You are! I just found it funny, that’s all. To me, it’s just such a single live behavior to do that. You don't worry about a plate just because it seems unnecessary to dirty it if the pot is already dirty, and you can also eat out of it.”

“That is exactly what I tried to explain to Nami for years!”

“Well, you don't have to explain it to me.”

They both smiled and ate in comfortable silence again. It was Sanji breaking the quiet atmosphere with a blurred-out question that made his face red as a tomato only a second later.

“Are you single?”

Zoro choked on a spoonful of Raspberries and started coughing.

“Sorry! I shouldn't have asked out of nowhere! You don't have to answer! Sorry!” Sanji’s voice became more and more shrill as he spoke.

He shot up from his chair, his face now completely red, took the two bowls, and headed to the sink. Busining himself with washing the dishes as Zoro stared holes into his back while coughing.

“I…” Zoro rasped, clearing his throat a few times - choking on Raspberries wasn't pleasant; it stung and burned.

“You really don't have to answer,” Sanji said again.

Why did he even ask? The possibility of Zoro being in a relationship was so high! He didn't want to hear that he was taken. Not knowing at least meant he could pretend that this was a date. A bit fucked up, but that was what his mind was set on since Zoro agreed to come over and let Sanji cook for him.

“I am.”

Zoro’s voice came from behind but not from way back at the table. He stood behind him, Sanji realized. What did he say?

“Hm?” Yeah, such a brilliant way to ask him to repeat his words…

“I said I am, Curly. I’m single - for a while now, actually.”

“O…kay…Great…” Sanji blurred out - again without really thinking about his words. “I mean, not great! I’m sorry! Should…should I be sorry?”

Zoro chuckled behind him, and Sanji blushed an even deeper red.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this…fucking shit, this is so embarrassing…”

“I think it’s cute,” Zoro laughed - his voice even nearer to Sanji than a second before.

Sanji felt his heart taking a leap, and he felt breath ghosting over his hair. Shit, Zoro was standing close. Another breath, and he shivered so much that one of the bowls slipped out of his hand and splashed water onto his shirt as it fell into the sink.

“What about you?” Zoro asked casually.

“W…what?” His brain seemed to be turned off.

“Are you single?”

“Yes…”

Another breath, a deep one directly at the back of his head. Hell, what was Zoro doing to him?! His whole body shook, his heart seemed to want to break his ribcage, and his cheeks were burning like on fire.

“Good,” Zoro said. “Otherwise, this would be a bit awkward.”

“What do you mea…”

Sanji swallowed the rest of his question as Zoro’s arms wrapped around his body. He could feel his face pressed against the back of his head, inhaling deeply. A low sound - almost like a grumbly purr - came from Zoro and made Sanji shiver. At first, he was stiff as a plank, but he relaxed quickly and let himself sink against Zoro’s body.

“Go on a date with me, Curly?”

“I…”

“Please?”

Sanji wanted to tell him that, at least for him, this was already a date. But maybe it wasn't for Zoro? He didn't say anything about it, just smiled as he felt Zoro’s hand softly brushing over his belly.

“Yeah, I’d love to do that.”

Prev/next

First part

[blackknight-kai]

Let me start saying I love your blog, reblogs and headcanons, truly, all of the above🩷🩷

If you’re comfortable with the question, do you have any for the Destined One with a female virgin reader?

So I wanna say thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 I haven’t quite shared my own head canons much but I don’t have any issue sharing them 🫶 others do a much better job of it so I’ve left it to them. But! Your ask comes at a wonderful time as I needed a break from writing a fic 💀 (kill me im up to 20k)

Let’s get after it! Destined One & a female virgin head canons? I’ll give it a shot! There will be a nsfw section below sorry if that’s not your thing. I wasn’t super explicit on body parts etc but let me know if you guys want a Sun Wukong one? I’d try.

If you’re NOT in a relationship yet and he finds out? (Be it you told him outright or it comes out in passing conversation)

He’d would remain expressionless and quiet as usual. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it and remain respectful

But if you look closely you can see him swallowing thickly at the new information

Will NOT treat you differently

He has a LOT of feelings for you and knowing you haven’t shared yourself with someone else, while not a huge deal he’s never really cared one way or another, it’s something he finds himself thinking about often.

It makes him a little hot under the collar sometimes when he looks at you and remembers what you’d said.

NSFW - on the very rare occasions that he takes some time to himself or you’re not around, in the quiet he puts his goal to the side for just a moment and allows himself to think about his wishes and whims. Specially how he’d touch you and make it good for you because you deserve to be treated like you’re special and HE wants to be the one to do it.

If you’re in a relationship and it either came up naturally or during a more…heated moment.

Would absolutely freeze. Like body full on screenshot kinda freeze - only his tail would flick and twitch as he processes

Because honestly it hadn’t occurred to him before but it is NOW. He’s thought of you and making love with you but first or not first hadn’t been a topic of thought

He’d probably internally get flustered and his heart would race ridiculously but on the outside his expression would appear stoic or mildly surprised

Wouldn’t try to pressure you or make a big deal out of it, as though it doesn’t matter one way or another besides making extra sure you’re comfortable

His tail would eventually give him away though as it would be swishing behind him happy and interested as the information settles in his brain

Dude would be first and foremost HONORED If you shared that news with him and were giving him your first

Probably a first for him too ngl. I see him as someone who was so focused on his path that warming another’s bed wasn’t something he was willing to spare time on.

If it’s not a first for him too then it’s not something he’s done often and isn’t an expert

Would definitely thank you for trusting him with sweet reassuring kisses (if they are a little heated don’t blame him too much)

He is respectful! As I said no pressure. No rush. But would the information please him? Yes.

Definitely adds fire to his belly because HE will be your first

Sends a note of possession through him not because he’d “own” you but because regardless of being a first or not you’d be his and he yours.

NSFW:

Regardless of if you’re shy or ready to get the show on the road he’d be so gentle and would be careful, really careful.

Probably a bit unsure and might move a little too fast accidentally in his own lust but would immediately sooth you as soon as he realizes

Looks to your expressions and sounds to make sure you’re feeling good and safe

He wants to treat you WELL views it as HIS duty to make sure you’re happy

It’s a lot of pressure but he’d do his best and set his mind to it being nothing but perfect for you

I imagine at first his hands would be so feather light letting you get used to him and his touch as he undresses you piece by piece- he’d watch his claws unless he finds out you enjoy them grazing across your skin

He’d brush his lips across every piece of new skin revealed to his eyes unable to help himself

Finds out he really loves your chest, both feeling you & tasting you. as well as napping on you later

But over time as the act went on he’d be more confident, still tender but less unsure

He’d be enamored every time he got you to sigh or make a pleased sound

It’s his goal to hears those often

When he discovers how turned on he’s made you it would send waves of pride crashing over him, he had done THAT

Overall though he’d take his time

He probably won’t speak much if at all, but he’d make sure you’re ready every step of the way. If he does speak it’s not more than a few words here or there, low and only for you to hear as he nips your ear

Multiple check ins

He’s a giver, and while he isn’t practiced whatsoever he’d use his mouth and fingers to bring you pleasure, finding out exactly how you like it by listening to the way you moan or the way your body shivers and trembles with specific movements

He 100% will become VERY VERY good with his hands and mouth

His tail is sneaky, he’d use it as a way to hold on to your leg (holding you open while one of his hands is occupied) or would brush the the furry appendage across your skin just to see goosebumps rise in its wake

When you’re finally connected, after time spent letting you get used to him (and him you because let’s be real he’d be overwhelmed by the feel of tightly wrapped around him too) he’d roll his hips gently

He would make sounds, sighs and groans in your ear.

He’d love it if you cling on to him and tell him he’s doing something good

Full on shudders if you scratch his back or dig your nails into him - he loves it and he might accidentally thrust too hard when you do it

Wants to hear you 👏👏

Would keep control for as long as he could but would listen to your requests almost instantly if you asked him to move faster

Would love it if you moved his hand exactly where you wanted him to touch you

Would suck marks on your skin - thighs and neck, wherever he absentmindedly ran his lips. Would be shy about it later but would touch them possessively or when you’re dressed his eyes would stray to where his marks are on your skin.

Afterwards he’d silently but tenderly wipe you down and then pull you into his arms

Would nuzzle his face against you and breathe your scent as you both relax and come down from your high

Would massage any soreness you have that he could and feel pride at wearing you out, although his face wouldn’t show it

His tail would be like a vice around your thigh all night and trying to get out of his hold in the morning is a chore

He’d 100% take care of you especially for a first time is basically what I’m saying. After, he may be a bit rougher with his movements or may be impatient at times especially after a tough fight and adrenaline is still kicking but will always treat you tenderly as you guys build confidence together.