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comatosebunny09 · 2 days ago

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merry christmas, mr. sylus [ fin ]

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo verse, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining, misunderstanding trope, mild language, silliness, angst — notes: the finale for this. thank you for reading! — now playing: swan serenade - piano house

You spend the remainder of the party avoiding your boss like the plague. But running into him is inevitable. You work directly for the man, after all.

As the staff trickles out, taking with them their drunken merriment, you’re left to pick up the pieces of your wounded heart and the party’s aftermath.

You shove Solo cups and decorative paper plates into a trash bin. Snatch off tablecloths and roll the karaoke machine into the broom closet. Wipe off tables, tear down garland. You do everything you can to stay busy, your self-loathing an ever-present rain cloud hanging overhead.

What were you expecting? For Mr. Sylus to fall to his knees for you? For him to sever whatever bond he has with Ms. Hunter for you? You snort at yourself as a wet film of heat slides over your eyes, impairing your vision. You feel ridiculous. Sick to your stomach.

The trash bin slips from your fingers, thudding dully on the carpeted floor. In an attempt to collect yourself, you prop your hands on the edge of a table, releasing a shaky sigh. You blink away the new commination of tears. You’d been doing good so far, having given yourself a lengthy pep-talk in the bathroom earlier. Something to get you through what remained of the night without wearing your anguish on your sleeves.

So what if he doesn’t view you in the same light as you view him? This isn’t the first time you’ve faced rejection, and it most certainly won’t be the last. It doesn’t make this iteration hurt any less. You’re his secretary, for God’s sake. Not a friend nor a potential love interest. The quips and laughter you exchange daily are nothing more than him being polite. The model gentleman, maintaining the peace between himself and the person responsible for organizing his life.

You are so swept up in the turmoil of your mind that you hardly register your name being called. Someone beckons to you again, this time more assertive, though not scolding. You whip your head around to the source of the sound, homing in on a familiar shock of white.

Tamping down the emotions swelling in your chest, you straighten, fixing your sweater, and a superficial smile takes up residence on your face.

“Yes, sir?”

He studies you for a beat from the slab of space permitted by his half-opened door, long fingers wrapped around the oakwood like spindly spider limbs. He gives you a once over, his brows slightly wrinkled. His lips quiver, gaze pensive like he wants to say something. Something other than what next comes out.

“Would you mind assisting me with something?” he asks, his tone deceptively impassive.

Your stomach lurches, the feeling akin to cresting over the slope of a roller coaster. You swallow, pushing your disappointment to the back burner. What did you expect him to say? Sorry? Like he even knows you’re upset. Like he knows why you’re upset.

Like he cares.

You nod curtly, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Of course, sir.”

You move to your desk, your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath your skin while Sylus slinks back into his office. He promptly reappears, thrusting a thick stack of envelopes of varying sizes and colors towards you. Your vision blurs and adjusts as you glance between him and the envelopes.

“Christmas cards,” he answers flatly with a shrug. “I could use some help opening and drafting up responses to them all.”

“Oh.” Try to sound more disappointed, why don’t you?

Your fingers graze the clutch of his hand when you reach for the cards. And the worn, warm glide of his skin beneath your fingertips makes you stiffen. You wonder what it would feel like to purposely hold his hand. To commit the feel of his palm to memory. But you banish such thoughts, bowing your head and ducking away.

“Sorry,” you pinch out, moving to the chaise sofa against the wall by his office door.

He’s wordless as he plops down beside you, releasing a weighted sigh. He drapes his arm along the back of the seat. You try vainly to ignore his slender fingers near your shoulder, drumming against the polished leather.

You lapse into a rigid silence, your shoulders and jaw set. You find your resolve trickling away, the warmth he exudes beside you making you feel dizzy and shameless. He even has the audacity to smell good, that unmistakable mixture of birch wood, pressed clothing, and his natural musk, conspiring together to overhaul your senses.

You wonder if he would be offended if you just… leaned a little this way and—forget it. The bubbly’s getting to you. You’re not testing your luck tonight. You worked your ass off to secure this job, enduring tireless screenings and background checks. Worked even harder to gain his trust. No sense in allowing your feelings to compromise your position.

Besides, you know where you stand with him. Or don’t stand. The spectacle before with the darling Ms. Hunter was all the confirmation you needed. The words you never stood a chance resound in your head like a struck gong. You scoff, tearing into a crimson envelope, dispelling the cacophony in your head.

“This one is from Mrs. Carter over in HR,” you say, waving the card around. You don your usual playful mask, praying your hurt doesn’t show through the fissures. He acknowledges you with a gruff sound, immersed in a card of his own. You take that as your cue to continue.

Feigning nonchalance, you flip the card open. You clear your throat, repositioning yourself on the sticky, squeaky sofa, crossing your legs, and leaning towards the opposite chair arm. You rattle off the card’s contents aloud. A generic greeting, hollow praise, a bidding for a successful new year.

“Send her a gift card,” he answers dismissively. You scoff, tucking the card between your thigh and the chair’s arm. Is it just you, or is he being unbearably cold? You’re the one with the wounded pride here.

You occupy yourself with another letter, trying to quell the new swell of emotions burbling in your chest. You’ve reread the same line repeatedly, the cursive scrawl embedded into the cardstock blurring and bending. It’s exceedingly difficult to focus with him so close. And you find yourself stealing little glimpses of him in your peripheral.

He looks even better beneath the incandescent lights like this, like a Roman sculpture bread from patient hands. His cheeks are mottled red, probably from throwing back one too many glasses of champagne. Delicate, alabaster strands fall from their usual coiffure, sweeping over set brows and hollow cheeks. Dark lashes dust over warm ivory skin, scarlet irises dancing beneath as he reads over another Christmas card. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. Find yourself, too, swallowing against the dry, scratchy feeling in your throat.

You tug in the neckline of your sweater. It’s itchy and thick, and the heater’s turned up in the building to combat the cold outside. You’re uncomfortable because of the temperature and not because your boss is so unbearably close.

With a sigh, you peel yourself from the lounge. You venture to your desk in search of a letter opener. If you’re going to spend the rest of your night working, you might as well make the task a little less daunting. Rifling through your drawers, you happen upon the biggest one. And your breath catches, grip white-knuckled on the brass knob when you catch sight of it. Inside lies your present—his present—the intricate foil wrapping gleaming condescendingly.

Something pulls in your chest. Your hand shakes. Your lips pull into a taut line, embarrassment spuming like a hot geyser into your face. You’re about to slam the drawer shut, but a streak of warm skin stains your peripheral vision. And as horror descends onto your features, he snatches up the contents of your drawer faster than you can process things.

“What’s this now?” your boss asks, intrigue mixed with amusement hanging in the boughs of his voice.

Wide-eyed and mortified, you look at him. Your flight or fight instincts kick in, pushing you towards the latter. He dons a wolfish grin as you swipe at the box in his hand, and he holds it just out of reach. Damn him for being so absurdly tall!

“Sir!” you clip, swiping at the gift like an enraged feline. He doesn’t relent, instead spurred by your reaction, and the contents of the box shift about as he continues his childish game of keep away. Your chest slides against him each time you strain on tippy-toe. And you try to ignore how pleasant he feels, warm and hard-bodied against you.

Spinning out of reach, your boss chuckles at your expense. He seems to enjoy this, watching you hop after him like a field mouse, trying vainly to swipe the object from his hand.

“You think I didn’t notice you fretting over this all night?” he teases once you’ve stopped—at least for now—your cheeks puffing out, nostrils flaring.

“Mr. Sylus, I—”

“And you weren’t even going to give it to me.” He clicks his tongue, feigning hurt. “What have I done to warrant such cruelty?”

Reality slowly seeps in. He’s one step closer to opening your gift and discovering how much of a useless spazz you are. Switching tactics, you hold out a placating hand, stepping towards him like he’s holding a charged explosive.

“Sir, I need that back!”

His mouth forms a pensive line as his gaze shifts between you and the box clutched in his fingers. “Why? It’s mine, isn’t it? It has my name on it.” He squints at the meticulous scrawl of your penmanship, and when you make a surprise lunge toward the box when you think he’s distracted, he swings his arm out of reach, baiting you like a bull.

He laughs low, a mirthful crease to his eyes. You’d take time to appreciate it if you weren’t fighting for your life.

“What’s got you so worked up? What could possibly be in here that you’re willing to bite my head off to get it back?”

You swallow thickly, chest heaving as you watch Sylus drop onto your leather rolling chair, cross-legged and smiling like the cat who caught the canary. He shakes the box near his ear, its contents rattling about.

“Sir, don’t.” But it’s too late. The sound of paper ripping is jarring in the stillness of your office space.

You’re stiff as stone, mouth hinged open, terror screwing up your features. Eventually, you concede to your fate, hands falling listlessly at your sides whilst your boss uncovers what lurks beneath the pretty foil paper you’d spent so much time wrapping his present in. You pour yourself onto the chaise lounge, your shoulders touching your ears, feeling like a child waiting with their parents at the principal’s office. You sneak little glances at his hands, each tear making you wince like a scrape against your heart.

Sylus quirks a quizzical brow at you, looking between the matte grey box he uncovered in his hand and you. You don’t contest him, too busy trying to remember how to breathe. He takes your cue, slowly peeling the lid off the box. He reaches inside to procure yet another box, slightly smaller than the one it’s nested in, neatly wrapped in paper similar to what he just tore off.

Giving you a perturbed look, Sylus repeats the previous process. And again, he’s faced with matte gray. He carries on like this, peeling back a lid, finding another box nested inside, and tearing through wrapping paper for another three iterations.

“How long does this go on?” he prods, faced with another box. “And how many trees did you kill to pull this off?”

You press the tips of your index fingers together, pursing your lips as you look elsewhere. “You’re almost there.” You’re half-grateful he decided to be shit about it. You don’t feel as bad for nesting his gift away like matryoshka dolls. He deserves to feel the same distress he subjected you to mere minutes ago.

Vexation rolls off him in waves when he reaches yet another box, and he fixes you with a look that bodes danger. There aren’t too many times you’ve witnessed him this annoyed. He’s normally like this when his afternoon nap is interrupted by anyone but you or he’s dealing with a particularly ornery client.

You stand from the couch with a nervous titter in your throat, snatching up the discarded red bow and ribbons you adorned his gift with and tacking it onto the crown of your head. You do a little jig, something to dispel the tension, wordlessly cheering him on.

Sylus rolls his eyes with a resigned sigh. A ghostly smile rounds his lips thereafter, and you could swear you see something like fondness shining in his eyes at your antics. It disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by a determined pinch between his brows.

You continue swaying your hips from side to side and pumping your fists in the air, the bow's ribbons falling comically over your eyes and water-falling off your shoulders.

Finally, finally, Sylus exposes a matte, black box that’s the size of his palm. Wrapping paper lies like carnage at his feet, bent-up cardboard boxes piled atop your desk. You sigh in relief, though it’s short-lived, as he opens the final barrier between him and his gift.

He studies the contents of this new box, eerily quiet. You swallow as he reaches inside, producing something garish and pink from within. “What the hell is this?” he queries, waving the plastic novelty revolver around.

You snort, the flatness of his tone catching you off guard. “A gun,” you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Sylus scoffs. “Clearly. But what is it for?”

Flourishing your arms, you plaster on a grin. “For you to put me down in case you no longer find any use for me!”

Looking between the pink revolver and you, he crooks his finger around the trigger, huffing a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to ‘Old Yeller’ you?”

“If that’s what it comes down to.” And what comedic timing he has, pulling the trigger, a banner with Bang printed in bright Comic Sans popping out, complimented by a flurry of rainbow paper confetti.

Silence lapses between you as the confetti flutters to the floor. You caution a look at your boss, and he shakes his head, his lips crooked into a smirk, though the knit of his brows reveals his disappointment.

“You can also use it during your meetings when someone pisses you off,” you warily add, shifting your weight between your feet. He doesn’t honor you with a response, instead setting the revolver on your desk with a definitive clack. He studies something in the distance, seemingly ignoring you.

If you weren’t already feeling silly before, you most certainly do now. You figured something unconventional would suit your boss. Something to define your work relationship, the pair of you often trading morbid and esoteric jokes to make the day's hustle a little less daunting. It seemed like a good idea when it caught your eye in the mall. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t a good buy after all. Especially when compared to Ms. Hunter's gift, and the recollection makes something cold wash over your innards.

You press the tips of your index fingers together, gaze cast on the floor. You’ve screwed up, and you’ll probably lose your job over this. Either that or your working relationship will turn to shit. You’d honestly rather be relieved of your position when considering the latter option. Turning to leave, to pick up the jagged shards of your pride and finish tidying up, you gasp when you feel a warm presence behind you, the fine hairs littering your body standing at attention.

You turn to acknowledge him, wincing away, expecting to be struck. Mr. Sylus has never raised a hand at you before, only lightly flicking your forehead or tapping your nose when he felt playful that day. You realize how ridiculous you must look and sound, but you steel yourself against the worst possible outcome regardless.

A hit never comes. You’re instead greeted with the hard press of a body against yours. With arms loosely winding about your middle and a chin finding the crook of your shoulder. His scent is overwhelming. The heat he exudes is dizzying, wit-pilfering.

Wide-eyed, with your hands opening and closing awkwardly at your sides, you stiffen as you grapple with the notion that your boss is hugging you. Mr. Sylus. Hugging you. No matter how many times you turn the words over in your mind, you can’t process them. You didn’t even know he was capable of such an act.

“Thank you,” he intones, his voice a pleasant vibration in your body. He rubs over the notches of your spine, nuzzling into you further like you’re his security blanket. Once your common sense returns, an affectionate smile touches your lips.

You clumsily return his hug, unsure of the proper conduct in this situation. But you throw caution to the wind, full-on embracing him, your eyes twinkling with tears. “Of course, sir,” you murmur, swallowing against the swell of emotions in your throat.

The hug ends much too soon for your liking. Sylus peels away, his hands clasping your arms. You tilt your head quizzically as he studies you, the bow's ribbons brushing off your shoulder. You must be quite the doe-eyed sight. His eyes darken as his gaze falls to your lips, his own mouth slightly parting. He looks as if he’s wrestling with something in his mind. Turning it over, at war with himself. He seems to win whatever battle is taking place behind his eyes, for he slowly pans in, his lashes bowing.

And maybe you’re swept up in the moment, too, his hug having buried your defenses in the sand. You don’t fight him, only awkwardly shifting when your lips meet before relaxing beneath the slight chap of his lips.

Beneath the ethereal twinkle of the fairy lights you hadn’t yet snatched down, through the stillness of the investment firm’s tenth floor, and with your pulse thundering in your throat, Mr. Sylus kisses you. A full press of lips, his grip on your arms tightening the barest as if to keep you rooted to the spot. Not that you would run, feeling weightless, like navigating a dream.

As quickly as reality floats onto your shoulders like a wispy shawl, he pulls back, wild-eyed and panting. And it’s as if you’re the greatest sin he was never meant to indulge in. He releases you before tearing a shaky hand through his tresses, pushing out a weighted exhale.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping away from you before you can think, each hurried thump of his loafers across the floor like a strike to your racing heart.

You strain your ears for every bit of sound until the elevator around the corner pings, and you hear him step inside, the doors swishing shut. And you’re left to the swell of static and impenetrable silence, staring after the faint afterimage left by his tall visage.

You turn towards the ceiling high-window, dazed. Touch your lips with shaky fingers, the sensitive skin still tingling with the remnants of your kiss. Flecks of white streak the violet canvas beyond the window, the first snowfall fluttering in gossamer patterns towards the ground.

You got what you wanted. What you’d maybe consider the greatest Christmas gift you've ever received. But as a bitter smile tugs at your lips, your eyesight glossing over with a warm film, and you clutch your chest, your thoughts seep in.

Why does it feel like it’s not what he wanted?

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #christmas fic #holiday fic #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #modern au #ceo au #sylus love and deepspace

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the-travelling-witch · 15 hours ago

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𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

summary: some lycaon dating headcanons

pairing: von lycaon x gn! reader

warnings: just fluff (and floof :D); not proofread, just a small set of hcs to kick writer’s block to the curb; also my first time writing for lycaon/zzz, so i still have to get a feel for the characters

a/n: writer’s block loophole: pick one of your friends to target and lock in (this one’s for you, @zhongrin dearest ^^)

general masterlist

You had recently noticed that Lycaon sometimes switched sides when you walked through New Eridu together. Still continuing your conversation, he elegantly let you pass by him, only to rejoin you at your other side, the motion so practised it almost looked like a dance.

For some time, you’ve wondered why he did it and why he only did it sometimes, until you overheard some girls in a café discussing an old drama, swooning over how the male lead always walked on the side of the road. And sure enough, Lycaon only ever traded places with you when you were the one walking closest to traffic.

However, despite being enamoured by his thoughtfulness, you also couldn’t help but notice how your lover seemed to hesitate a little on some occasions. At first you thought it was your imagination but you could clearly see an internal struggle going on behind the crimson of his eye before he moved towards the side of the road nonetheless, your window into his thoughts gone as his gaze was shielded from you by his eyepatch.

That was when you connected the dots.

Lycaon didn’t like not being able to easily see you. Sure, he could still turn his head to look at you but just being able to glance at you from the corner of his eye was clearly the favourable option to him. Not only did it facilitate checking up on you, he was also simply charmed by you. Whether it was you savouring a drink or treat on your way through the city or the way your eyes would light up when you saw something in the shop windows that intrigued you, Lycaon didn’t want to miss it. Yet, your safety was still of the utmost importance to him, so in the end he’d always move to the side of traffic for you.

Well, at least you had finally figured out why your boyfriend always occupied the right side of the couch and the bed, leaving you to snuggle up on his left…

Speaking of bed time, after a long day at work, Lycaon gladly left brushing his fur to you. The feeling of the brush in combination with your fingers raking through his coat, untangling all the knots he so carefully tried to avoid and diligently ridding it of whatever was clinging to it after his duties were done, was deeply soothing. Honestly, the first few times you offered to help him, he had almost been embarrassed by how quickly the sensation dissolved all the tension from his shoulders.

But, at this point, he gladly welcomed your gentle touch, even if it weighed down his eyelid and made it increasingly more difficult to stifle a yawn. Especially the attention you paid to smoothing out the areas that had been pressed down by his uniform all day had his eye soften with affection for you. As someone who looked after others day in and day out, it was nice being taken care of like this.

Although, to say this was any less relaxing for you, would be a lie. Lycaon took great care of his fur, so it was always soft to the touch and you never had any real troubles running the comb and brush through it. The only “problem” you sometimes encountered was his tail twitching between your hands as you tried to tend to it, the end tickling you in return for all the attention you were giving it. When you first met Lycaon, never in a million years would you have imagined he’d ever trust you enough to let you see this side of him, but now that he did, you couldn't help but smile fondly to yourself.

It was a rare luxury that you got to wake up in your lover’s arms after a good night’s sleep, reserved for the few precious days where Lycaon wasn’t working. Yet, that only made the mornings on which you could cuddle up to him further to shut out the day for a few more minutes even more cherished. An early riser by habit, there was a big chance the thiren was already awake before you, content to simply hold you for a little longer as you clung to sleep, soothingly running his hands over your back.

When you finally decided it was time to get out of bed, by the time you finished washing up and made your way to the kitchen, the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee/tea already wafted over to you. Naturally, your lover had very quickly picked up on your preferences and would be damned if he couldn’t put his skills to use at home too. Handing you a warm mug, you soaked in the tranquility of the moment as you leant side by side against the kitchen counter, discussing breakfast options.

Yet, even on the days where he had to leave early for work, Lycaon still made you feel his love for you, even if he couldn’t be there when you got ready for the day. Be it your favourite bread in the basket on the counter or your lunch already prepped in the fridge, he always showed you that you were a priority to him, even after his day had barely started. These small affections were always accompanied by little notes, reminding you to eat, wishing you luck at work or simply telling you that he loved you, spelling out was he already conveyed so clearly.

If it wasn’t clear already, Lycaon would be nothing short of a true gentleman with you, always conscious of your presence and preferences. Be it opening doors for you, pulling out a chair or fixing your clothes, he was always the definition of attentive. And yes, the argument could be made that he was like this at work as well, however the guests of Victoria Housekeeping were never privy to that same affectionate glint in his eyes as he carefully fixed your necklace or even knelt down to fix your shoelace that had come undone. That was reserved for you and you only.

One thing he would not stand for, would be you being demeaned in one form or another. Of course, if you wanted to handle the situation yourself, he always let you, but reminded you he’d support you. If it was an accident, like a waiter bringing you the wrong order, he would very politely point it out. However, if someone deliberately mistreated you without showing any intention to change or apologise, he’d make it very clear that such behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated. He was well aware that you could handle yourself, but not every situation was easy to navigate and Lycaon would do everything in his power to protect you from harm; the last thing he’d want was to see you hurt.

If you were under the impression, however, Lycaon would never use his skills to tease you, you would be sorely mistaken. Really, he couldn’t help himself, your reactions were just too cute, so he’d rather not pass it up when the opportunity presented itself.

Seriously, with how often you’d already told your lover not to keep certain items on the top shelves, you’d think he’d already have remedied the problem. Yet, this particular complaint seemed to keep falling on deaf ears. Instead, when you were stretching to reach something once more, you’d suddenly find yourself trapped between the counter and the thiren that had appeared behind you, effortlessly reaching for whatever it was you needed. All the while, the nails of his hand resting comfortably on your hip dimpled the fabric of your clothes and his palm spread heat all the way up to your ears, especially when Lycaon leant just a bit more of his weight into you.

When he handed the item to you, he’d take one look at you and ask if there was something wrong. Perhaps if you didn’t know him well enough, you’d assume the question was truly innocent, that he just wasn’t aware of what he was doing to you. You, however, could very clearly identify the mischievous glint in his eye and the wolfish grin tugging at his lips.

Lycaon might be the death of you. But would you have it any other way?

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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TAKE THIS, WRITER'S BLOCK, YOU BITCH

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#zenless zone zero #zzzero #x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #zzzero x reader #zzz x reader #lycaon x reader #von lycaon x reader #von lycaon #zzz lycaon #zenless zone zero lycaon #zzz von lycaon

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starburstminibot · 14 hours ago

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Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 3 days ago

Note

stepdad! hotch punishing the reader for coming home late at night. (maybe she's wearing something skimpy and has hickeys on her neck) 🤭

you're amazing btw!! your stories make me feral 😩

Jealousy

Warnings: stepdad!hotch, jealous/possessive!hotch, mentions of r having a fwb relationship, mentions of masturbation (not described), mentions of sex (not described), language, one could say this is more angsty than my other fics, let me know if I missed anything!

Pairing: Stepdad!hotch x fem!reader

Word count: 1k

A/n: This is a fantastic idea! Thank you for sending it in and for your compliment 🥹 I am glad my stories can do that ;) There is no real smut in this but because of the pairing and slight mentions of sex this is NSFW. I am open to writing a part 2 of this one!

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13 @randomuserrs

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

This fic is NSFW minors DNI*

“Where have you been?” is the first thing you hear when you walk in the door. You thought that maybe, just maybe Aaron would have gone to sleep instead of waiting up for you. You thought that you would be able to sneak in and go unnoticed. He would have to leave for work before you would be up and you would be able to avoid him confronting you. No such luck.

You let out a sigh and your head falls back dramatically. “Nowhere important. I just went out with a friend.” It’s not necessarily a lie. The guy you were with is a friend, but there may be some occasional benefits too. It was just a drink and a quick fuck. It didn’t really mean anything. It was just a way to release some stress that you’ve been feeling lately and accidentally create more stress for your stepdad.

The dishevelled sight of you in front of him is something he absolutely hates. The messy hair, the smudged lipstick, the already too-short dress that was pulled back down after your encounter but not quite all the way as it still rides up your thighs more than it normally would, and the marks on your neck are enough to have a slight wave of anger flooding through him. He only wants to see that if he is the one that caused it. But to see another guy’s work? It pisses him off. You’re his, or at least he wants you to be. The two of you haven’t actually gone that far yet, but you both know that it is only a matter of time before you do.

“A friend? One that you got all dressed up for and left all of those hickeys on your neck?” Aaron speaks coldly with a clear hint of suspicion and doubt as he crosses his arms over his chest. Part of you is a tad embarrassed to be in this situation right now, but the other part of you that loves to be bratty and push his buttons from time to time is winning that conflict inside of you right now.

“Yeah, maybe. It’s not any of your business, Aaron. I wanted to have a night out and have a little fun, what’s so bad about that?” You mirror him, crossing your arms in the same way that he is. Your attitude has Aaron clenching his jaw. That jaw that you would give just about anything to kiss and nibble on.

He takes a few steps closer to you and his head tilts slightly in that way that for some reason always distracts you. He hesitates and stands there just looking at you with a glare that you swear is sharp enough to pierce right through you and the door behind you. When Aaron finally answers you his voice comes out low and dark. “Because I don’t like it and I don’t think you should be seeing him.” He made it sound like something he was declaring. Like it’s his choice and he gets the final say on the matter.

This is ridiculous. He thinks he can tell you who you can go out to see?

“Then what would you suggest, Aaron? Who am I allowed to see?” That bratty tone comes out again and he has to take a deep breath in so that he doesn’t snap. Everything inside of him wants to push you up against that door behind you and tell you who you really belong to, to fuck you silly until you forget about everyone except for him. He wants to tell you that he knows you’re always thinking of him when you are taking care of your needs whether you’re doing so with the help of another person or if it’s by yourself. He wants to say that you can’t see anyone but him. He holds back. He wants to give in more than he could express, but he still manages to stop himself from acting on all of those thoughts.

You wish he would say and do all of those things. You would love nothing more than to let Aaron absolutely ruin you however he sees fit. You know he wants to and you’ve tried to push him over that edge, but he has way more self-control than you had originally thought he did. That doesn’t mean that you haven’t watched it slowly crumble over time though. You know it won’t take much more to finally break him down completely and when you do, you know that he is going to break you. Especially with how long all of these feelings and emotions have been building up. The tension between the two of you is palpable at all times when you’re around each other.

To your surprise he chooses to back down this time. He steps back closer to where he was before and looks down at the floor with a slight huff. He’s jealous, but he’s containing it. For now.

“Just…go to bed. I”ll see you after work tomorrow.” He grumbles and walks away. He goes to get a drink and sits quietly in his office, thinking about you and how he could treat you better than whatever ‘friend’ you saw tonight. He wants to be the one you go to for a good time. He wants to teach you a lesson and claim you as his. He wants to tell you that no one else can do those things you both dream of him doing to you. But for now Aaron has decided that it’s not quite the right time.

You watch him get his drink and close the door of his office behind him before you go to your room. You had hoped that he would snap tonight and make you unable to walk the next day, but your luck was against you yet again. It made you feel a little disappointed and your heart sank just slightly. But there was one thing that really stuck in your mind as you walked away.

Jealousy looks good on him.

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britts-galaxy-brain · 3 days ago

Note

I get going after a person that specifically groomed and abused you. (I think that’s what you’re stating happened?) I was also groomed as a child by people online in fandom spaces and I feel a lot of things about that including anger. But that’s the thing, my abusers were cis women. In the MLP fandom alone the entire “brony” dynamic was just so deeply fucked up in the way adults of all genders interacted with teenagers.

But you kept focusing on *specifically* and more or less *only* trans fems. Even if that was accidental in someway at first, this pattern is something that was possible for a reason. Transmisogyny within society makes it easier. Like Mio has literally nothing to do with Lily Orchard. Mio is questioning the way you and others have spent so much time and energy, combing through every aspects of many other trans women’s existence in an obsessive and upsetting way. A big part of transmisogyny is the immense scrutiny all trans fems live under, and you turned it up to 11. Offhanded and out of context screenshots that transmisogyny exempt people would be given the benefit of the doubt about, does not happen for trans women. When people fill in their own context they tend to fill it in ways that shape trans women into villain along the lines of transmisogynystic tropes. (Pedophilia accusations are a common one.)

This isn’t black and white. I don’t know everything so I can’t say where everyone you dug into exist within the gray. However you have to see the gray. You can block, you can say on your discord “hey maybe avoid this person”, there are so so so many steps before callouts need to happen if you think someone is gross or creepy. You don’t need to always need to elect yourself judge jury and executioner.

Are you fuckin serious? Have you been living under a rock??

So first off, you're saying it's my fault that the random ass predators who happened to stick their nose in this happened to be trans women. What am I supposed to do at that point? Ignore evidence of abuse toward minors just because of the demographic they fell into??

The one cis dude I had a run in with ages ago that got exposed for being a predator was in the process of being reported to the authorities before I knew he'd even done anything and not a damn soul was out here openly defending him and claiming calling out his grooming of an underage teenager was anything other than what it was. Same with Toonkritic. Now explain to me the double fucking standard I've had shoved in my face for YEARS now regarding literally any trans woman who has evidence of being predatory? They could outright STATE "I Am Attracted to Minors" (Poppy, Hypnotist Sappho, Patricia, Lily Orchard) and pointing out their own words INEVITABLY leads to a mob of obtuse reactionary fucks screaming about transmisogyny. They could openly and gleefully flirt with minors IN PUBLIC (Lily Orchard, Hypnotist Sappho) and pointing out that's fuckin predatory leads to the same mob of reactionary fucks screaming about transmisogyny. They could end up DATING THE MINORS THEY PUBLICLY GROOMED AS SOON AS THEY ARE LEGAL (Lily Orchard) and again the same reactionary fucks screaming about transmisogyny.

I'm out of patience with it. You utter fucking malicious morons are indirectly conflating calling out BLATANTLY PREDATORY BEHAVIOR as being transmisogynistic. You are essentially implying that predatory behavior is an intrinsic part of being transgender and I DON'T THINK MOST TRANS PEOPLE WOULD BE HAPPY WITH THAT ASSERTION. I don't see this shit on anywhere near the same level when it's cis people getting exposed. Cis women predators often pull the misogyny card but it doesn't get them near as far as what I've seen with the transmisogyny angle.

You are doing SO much more fucking harm to the communities you pretend to care about by jumping to the defense of CHILD PREDATORS and trying to frame it as a transmisogyny issue.

Fuck. Off.

#lily orchard #poppy diabolique #patricia taxxon #hypnotist sappho #transmisogyny

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velvetvexations · 2 days ago

Note

apologies, but i'm about to use your inbox as a dumping ground, because i cannot STAND this idea that trans women are uniquely susceptible to "social murder" and that trans m&ms are uniquely capable of perpetrating it

in college, i was a part of a big queer group. at the time i was pre-everything, but openly identifying as nonbinary, and visibly afab. there were about 20 of us in this group, all around the same age (18-22), and a solid mix of genders and expressions. i'd say there was a roughly even spread of genders and gendered experiences, not substantially more of one than another.

at first, everything was great! i had a ton of friends! sure, they socially ostracised a (cis!!) girl, and made it a point to make a second group chat without her in it, and avoided her....but hey, that's justified, she's annoying, whatever. (aside: as a grown adult, i know now how big of a red flag that is, and it'd send me running in the other direction nowadays.) the fact that she was neurodivergent and asexual was probably irrelevant.

once she was gone from the group, they picked someone else. this person was genderfluid, also autistic and asexual. they did the same thing to her, froze her out until she stopped trying.

she was gone, they picked another. cis gay guy, also neurodivergent. outright threw him out of his dorm room because he had the audacity to have sex when his roommates were on vacation.

i was the next one (for the record.......also neurodivergent, also asexual). and i have to say, bullying when it's the group you've built your social circle around, and when they're people you LIVE with.......it's really, really rough. i had a roommate watch me develop an eating disorder and tell me to my face that i was "appropriating fat struggles." i had people follow me to where i was eating breakfast and make thinly veiled threats from right behind me. they talked to my professors about me; the rumours were so vitriolic that i was kicked from a class outright. there was an entire DEPARTMENT i could no longer take classes in safely. i struggle with all of that to this day, almost a decade later, and i have never received an apology from anyone.

you know who did that? cis people, men and women. trans people, men and women. nonbinary people of all stripes. to me, a "tme" or whatever.

"social murder" is always a possibility when your social circle is necessarily small; it's weird to pretend that queer friend groups never blow up spectacularly, or that the fallout isn't particularly damaging when your other options for friends are limited by who doesn't hate you on principle. but to act like it's along GENDERED lines exclusively, or that it's always worse when it's a trans woman, ignores all other intersections (when in my own experience, it's been neurodivergence and disability that have contributed more to "social murder" in queer friend groups than any identity) and is just.....not just cruel, but maliciously ignorant.

I'm so very, very sorry that happened to you anon. <3 I love you.

#transfeminism #discourse

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keelt9 · 1 day ago

Text

DAHLIA

Masterlist

I slowly entered Joe's room while he’s still fully asleep, laid down at his left. I carefully light on the candle trying to make any sound, emphasis in trying because the lighter makes so much noise that Joe opens his eyes slowly.

“No.” I whisper but it’s useless. Joe is awake. “No, sleep, please.” I try to cover his eyes, making him giggle.

Joe grabs my hand over his eyes with a smirk on his face. “Ok, I can do that.”

He pretends to fall asleep but inevitably laughs one second later. “Enough?”

I roll my eyes. “We can say that.”

He opens his eyes, blinking, realizing on my other hand I had a small cake with a candle of Ness, his character from Super Mario.

“Happy birthday.” Joe laughs sitting on the bed.

“What is this?” It’s a small cake I made earlier in the morning trying to mute any sound of the kitchen, without counting the sound of the lighter. “This is great.”

He points to the candle. “Well, blow it up or it melted completely.”

Joe closes his eyes blowing the candle, making a wish.

“A good wish?” Joe nods, taking a small bite of his cake.

“Sorry, but if I tell you, it won't make it true.” Joe observes narrowing his eyes. “You have something on your face.”

“Where?” Joe approaches, catching my upper lip in a kiss.

“Butter cream.” He licks his lips. “Yeah, it tastes really good.”

I blink speechless as I grab my heated face with my free hand, hot like a bonfire.

“Let me try again.” He tries to kiss me one more time, my useless attempt to avoid it, ends in him grabbing the cake quickly, putting on the night table beside him with me under him on his bed.

Take a little bit of the buttercream putting on my lips, kissing me as he grabs my neck.

“Yeah, really good.” I giggle, giving him a small peck.

The sound of his alarm distracts us; Joe knows he must get ready for training.

“Save it for the bell.” He stands taking another bite of his cake.

I sit watching him with dazzling eyes, as he goes to his closet.

“Guys are preparing a small dinner for my birthday, would you like to come?” I hissed. I met a few of his friends in casual conversation, this is another step.

“I have to travel home tonight.” Joe smiles leaning to me, grabbing his pink hoodie for don't fall over my face.

“I know, I know, it's my last attempt.” He kissed my forehead.

“Sorry.” I stand giving him a hug. “Happy birthday Joe.”

Although it is Joe's birthday; tomorrow it's my grandmother's birthday too, all the family are gathering to celebrate her. 85 years old is a big number.

“Are you planning to come back before Christmas?” Joe starts to put all he could need inside of his bag. “You work for a place here, you know, it will be…”

“I'll try, I'm not promising anything, besides I've always been working remotely.” He laughs going to change his clothes.

“Before I forget.” He takes a paper bag. “Let's consider it as a previous Christmas gift.”

I opened the bag, a Bengal shirt with the number 9 on it.

I roll my eyes. “You don't have to look for it anymore, failing in the attempt.”

However, in the corner I notice something unusual next to his number.

“Wait, wait, what is this?” I lift the shirt, pointing to the tiny orange heart, next to the big white 9.

Joe pretends looking at his phone. “I'm going late, let's go for breakfast.”

He pulls me from my hand going downstairs, giggling as a kid.

Before Christmas I had a special present for Joe.

I got to be in Cincinnati a couple of days ago, however it is the second week they’re in a game out of home. Right now they're in Seattle after a bad loss, with a defense that has been imperceptible.

Joe seems disturbed in the press conference, still he texts me, hoping to arrive on time before I take my flight home.

He thinks I'll leave tonight to be on time and help my family before travelling to spend Christmas with my mother's mother.

“This is the last one.” Jason brings the last tray of food.

As Lilian sits on a chair. “I feel I could be arrested in any minute.”

I chuckle as I set in their place the last mistletoe.

“Ready!” I smile seeing around all the arrangements, happy with how everything is settled. “Now let's go, that I don't have so much time.”

I push them to the door not before taking the last look, it's perfect.

After a quick shower and changing my clothes, I just left myself enough time to drive back before Joe arrives from Seattle.

All should be according to the plan with my “little” helpers.

And it was, as I kept waiting for a couple well-known voices, that I heard at the entrance.

“Come on guys, this could wait.” Joe complains. “Y/N leaves tonight, I haven't seen her in weeks, and I really want to say goodbye to her.”

“Joe, this mustn't wait, it's urgent.” Tee said, even though he sounds tired, his voice is cheerful.

I heard them opening the crystal door of the training camp, but I know they just make sure Joe gets inside before leaving.

“The lights aren't even turned on!” Joe screams as I light on.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Joe blinks, getting used to the lights.

When he does he smiles brightly tilting his head when he sees me in a green velvet dress and an elf hat..

“What is this?” He walks to me to hug me. “This is pretty amazing!”

I smile as I surround him with my arms. “And I make dinner.” I think for a second. “Sorry, we made dinner.”

“We?” Joe split, noticing the dinner set in a small table behind me.

“Lilian, Jason and me.” Joe grabs my hand as we walk close to the table.

“How did you get in?” Joe looks around seeing the Christmas lights hanging around a small area.

I pretend thinking. “You have good friends willing to help.”

Tee, Ja’Marr and BJ helped me to convince Zac to intercede for me and get a special permission.

“Should we?” Joe says with a bloated eyes but a side to side smile.

“Yeah of course.” I give him a small peek in his cheek.

The dinner is delicious, you can see it for the way Joe barely speaks until we finished.

“Delicious.” He cleaned the corner of his mouth.

“Big thanks to my mom.” She guided us through all the cooking processes.

Joe put his elbows over the table. “Why here?”

I scoff rolling my eyes. “Joe, do you know how many security cameras you have in your house?”

He laughs. “A few.”

“A few, yeah, a few.” I take out a box under my chair. “Here.”

Joe giggles, his hands on his hair.

“What is this?” I smile seeing his cheek in a soft pink.

I tremble with fingers on the top of the box. “Don't get too excited, ok? It’s not a fancy thing.”

Joe clicks his tongue. “Damn.” For after, wink at me.

“Open it.” I smirk as he takes the upper part, tiling his head confused.

“I'm lost.” He takes another small box with twelve candles, small white candles.

I point to the box with the candles. “One candle, one wish. Simple as that.”

Joe and his rich laugh is music to my ears.

“Can I begin?” Joe opened the box taking out one.

“Now?” I cough for the surprise.

“Yeah now.” He digs in the big box and finds the matches. “I'm supposed to write on this.”

He takes the small piece of paper tied to the candle and the pen, I nod. “If there is something I can help, let me know.”

Joe smiles. “One more time, how many candles are there?” He keeps writing.

“Twelve.” He folded the small paper and carefully burned it.

“Then you owe me eleven wishes.” He winks at me, but I just point the ashes on the table. “Don’t worry, this is for me, to myself.”

I lean on the table giving him a small peck on his lips.

“Merry Christmas and happy new year Joe.” He has that naughty smile on his lips.

He caresses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

On Christmas Day Joe made sure to send me a photo of the second candle with his wish written on it.

>Eat well and keep healthy.

Like every year we spend Christmas in Buffalo, this year the cold and the snow are at their top.

Streets are covered in white, you need 3 minutes outside to be covered in a white cold veil.

“So, darling, your mother and Collin said you've been quite happy, these months.” Grandma said as she took out the special cake that Collin loved from the oven. “A special reason?”

I finished cutting the last strawberries she will use for decorating. “It’s not a reason, grandma, it’s a person.”

Bad time to eat a strawberry that almost killed me. “A QB.”

Grandma softly patted my back giggling. “There is a reason why Colin must be far away from wine, he tends to speak way too much.”

I take a sip of water thinking of a way to punish him as soon as he appears at the door.

“Ye…Yes. But, we’re just hanging around, dating, seeing how things work, it could be just a…” Grandma tilts her head as he takes out all the things she will need.

“Darling, darling, how many times have I told you about your Grandfather and me?” She has that face of utter love.

They met in middle school, after grandpa helped her to hide from her friends in what seemed like a cringe double date; breaking his glasses on the way, for crashing with him as she covered her face walking outside the school.

“It’s not the same.” Grandma raises her hand so she can keep talking.

“I fell in love with that guy with clear vision problems in less than 3 months, now look at us, happily married after 47 years.” She smiles proudly with a voice full of adoration.

The loud hit on the door with laughs from grandpa and Collin, makes her roll her eyes.

“Sorry! We bought it!” Collin appears in the kitchen sweating covered in snow as dad and mom carry the boxes inside of the house.

“You didn’t go for a box of chocolate bars?” I asked Collin as he drank all my water.

“It's supposed to be! But Grandpa saw the discounts and said we’ll buy a few.” He makes quotation marks with his hands. “He bought one box; for you, one for me and one for mom and dad.”

“Collin!” Mom shouted for him from the door.

He leans his head on my shoulder. “Did I mention their friends?.” He takes a deep breath. “Walking a meter on the snow it's like walking three miles.”

His breathing is fast even you can see a big smile on his face. “I’m coming!”

He runs to the door leaving a trace of snow from the kitchen to the main door.

“See, how not falling in love with him?” Grandma smiles and grabs my hand. “What I am saying is, when the feelings are real time it doesn't matter; what you feel here.” She pointed to my heart. “And here.” Then to my head. “It’s the most important.”

I see Grandpa entering with three chocolates bars, one for grandma, one for me and one for him, kissing her head.

“For you.” Grandpa takes out a dahlia from his coat.

We came back just in time for I could see the last game of the year from the Bengals, a wonderful defense even though the offense was a little bit imprecise, work for getting them to keep the win in their home.

But for Joe that wasn’t enough, you can see for the twisted lips at the end of the press conference.

“You’ll have a full week to make an adjustment. Don’t be so hard on you.” I called Joe when he texts me he’s in his home.

Joe nods and as he leans on the couch, nodding avoiding my eyes through the video call.

“Joe?” He sighs and sees the camera nod one more time. “Now, please, stop pulling your fingers.”

He giggles. “I’m tired, sorry.” He put his hand on his neck moving around his head.

“It’s ok, go and rest, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” I stand on my bed wanting so badly to be with him but he needs a little bit of space.

“What a way of ending the year with me, huh?” I scoff as he gets down his head, pulling his finger one more time.

“It couldn’t be better.” He saw the camera with a surprise expression. “I mean it.”

The knock on my door as Collin stays in the door distracted me.

He scrunched his face when he noticed I’m on a call. “Sorry Y/N, but it’s time.”

I nod, tonight one of my father's best friends invited us for a last dinner before New year.

I smile at Collin before he goes out of my room. “Well, time to go, too.”

I stand on the bed, ready to hang out the video call, searching for my coat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second, let me see you.” Joe takes his phone like he could see it more in detail.

Switching the camera in front of my mirror Joe can see me; wearing a cute black dress, a Christmas present of Lilian.

“No way.” I can see Joe hiding his face on a pillow. “You look… whoa.”

Feeling shy and adored, that’s all I can say.

“Y/N! We’re going late!” Dad passed in front of my room screaming.

Joe mumbled a couple of things that I couldn’t hear. “Sorry, text you later, bye.”

As we get in the car Joe sends a photo with the third candle and the note.

>See you in person. ❤️

Even though both of us knew we couldn't see each other before new year, it was still a little bittersweet situation. We have to settle with a quick call at midnight, under the mischievous eyes of my family observing me through the crystal door of the backyard.

Next morning all of us wake up really late, with the appearance we just sleep one hour; by the time I get down to the kitchen dad is making coffee with his PJs on.

“Mom?” I take four cups from the counter regretting leaving my sweater on my bed.

“Trying to stay awake.” Both of us laugh, that laugh increases when Collin enters, messy hair closing his eyes as he hits the door of the kitchen.

He put his hand over his forehead. “We should change that for a normal door, let’s get rid of the crystal door.”

Dad served three cups of coffee observing us sitting on the stool, with a smirk on his face. “Serving coffee, years ago, milk and cereal.”

“Dad!” Collin rolls his eyes. “It’s the first day of the new year, let’s not be sentimental.”

I push his arm. “Speak to the big, not sentimental boy.”

Collin cried yesterday, probably drunk as he remembered in a few months he will be far away from home.

“Whatever, Y/N, do you mind going to your grandparents' greenhouse?” Dad asked to take things for breakfast.

“Sure.”

My grandparents have a greenhouse in the boundary of the city. We spent a lot of time during our childhood; they had an amazing place where Collin and I passed such beautiful moments.

He was learning and helping, I was just observing and paying attention to the details, notebooks on my lap, taking notes.

I arrived around 7 pm, all the lights, most of them turned off.

I knocked before getting in, just the lights of the main office turned on, they left a small note.

>We're in the one next to the big three.

I perk through the window seeing all the lights there on, I smirk, they love that place for sure.

As I walk the cold wind makes me shiver, but I notice something weird; the cold lights of always now are in warm lights.

“What are you do…” My words stuck in my mouth when I saw the lights coming from the back of the greenhouse.

As I walk in, small bouquets of flowers are situated along the main corridor, I narrow my eyes taking in one, it took me a couple of seconds realizing the bouquets are conformed of heartseases, opium poppies, bignonias and marigolds.

As I keep walking, I realize the back curtain is slightly open; the warm light coming from that spot, so I removed it carefully.

He is there.

Joe is standing surrounded by flowers and Christmas lights.

“Happy new year.” He smirks, extending his arms.

Raising my hands full of bouquets he rolls his eyes.

“I don't think about that.” Both of us laughed as I gave him an attempt to hug.

“That's why you've been so quiet these days, huh?” Joe barely replay one text, my eyes seeing lights all over the place, I understand why.

“Such nice people are your grandparents” I see a small table where I can leave all the bouquets. “And Collin that helps a lot too.”

That explains why my grandparents didn't call right away as they saw or heard Joe Burrow. “I couldn't make the dinner, I owe you that.”

“I feel lucky enough, I imagine you have been locked in the building since the very first hours of the day.” I put all my bouquets so I can have my arms free.

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” Joe clicks his tongue. “Come here please, I need your help.”

“Another wish? I can do that.” Joe narrows his eyes. “I'm in a row, 2 of 2.”

“That confident?” Joe nods.

I touch my jacket. “I'm healthy and warm and you already saw me.”

“I mean wearing that black dress.” Tilting my head Joe bit his lips.

“Believe me Joe, you have to work a little bit harder to see that dress.” I know I pinch his pride for the way he pouts.

“Sounds like a bet. I like that.” He shakes his head and focuses one more time.

Turning around he takes a small box. “You should light one candle, you know?”

“Omg, could you just open it?” I laughed, enjoying seeing him so exasperated.

I take the lid and see a small crystal ball, I scoff, imagine another flower, to my surprise it's just the small paper of the candle inside of it.

“What is this? Should I break it?” Joe chuckles, twisting around the ball to open it.

I unfold it, the number five in the corner.

>Please say yes.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Joe asked, making my eyes focus on his face.

My heart is beating fast enough to cloud any coherent answer.

“I know you probably think this isn't a serious thing, but for me this is so real, we just met for a short time, and… you have been a breath of fresh air every time I see you.” Joe scratches his chin. “I love flowers isn't a secret… you know what Ja’Marr asked me when a month passed since I met you?”

I shake my head. “Joe, how many flowers do you need?” Joe takes my hands one more. “My house was full of flowers, a bouquet in every corner, still, it takes me a lot to reach this point.”

“Joe… I… It's…” Dammit I can't form a phrase.

Joe squeezed my hand smiling at me. “Tak..”

“Where are the fourth and fifth candles?” I hit my temple on my mind. Really that's my answer?

Joe looks to his right at a small table, two candles are burning slowly with a gold glow.

“My fourth wish is please that I don’t shutter so much as I speak.” I cover my face with the crystal ball as I whisper. “What? I don't understand you.”

“Oh my. Yes!” Joe takes the ball off my face. “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes.”

I jumped to hug him, he quickly lifted me from the ground, kissing me.

“No, no, put me down.” He raised his eyebrows. “I want to have a healthy QB to hug when you win the championship.”

“You're so...” I shut him down, kissing him tenderly.

“I guess I have to rush all my preparations” My useless attempt to go down failed one more time.

“Rush?” I side eye to him as I notice dahlia between the small lights, so accurate, after all we are making a compromise.

I surround his neck with my arms. “I was thinking of moving to Cincinnati after summer.”

His eyes move from my lips to my eyes. “Now probably, just probably think of doing it sooner.”

Joe cleared his throat. “You know if you need a place to stay, I can make you a space in my house.”

I give him a small peck, feeling his grip on my thighs trembling, not for the lack of strength just because he's trembling.

“Mhm, what about for quite a long time? I don't want to be the third wheel with Lilian.” Joe laughs, his rich laugh.

“Right, that will be awkward.” He fakes thinking. “Are you a good roommate?”

I hit his chest softly. “You won't have any complaints.”

One more kiss, this time more saccharine and consuming; I understand now what Lilian said, it's like we built a world just for us.

“I love to have you with me.” Joe smiles right to my lips.

I kiss his forehead. “Deal.”

What a way of beginning the year, after all Mr. McNeil has right after all, love comes right through our door

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Omg, I just took a more detailed view to the full series and I’m blown away by the response. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed from the very first flower until the last. 🌸

I’m preparing something… special? or at least that's what I believe, anyway, wait for it!

I’ll write to you soon!🍒

#joe burrow #joe shiesty #fic #fanfic #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fic #joe x reader “joe burrow fan fic #joe brrr

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finnbbl · 1 day ago

Text

Game Of Love - Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

Chapter 11

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Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, Hyunjin loses his temper (wow what a surprise !!)

A/N: I love seeing you all write your conspiracies in the comments, it makes me to happy to see ppl intrigued in my story 👀 Written below the screenshots !!

You walked into your first shift feeling somewhat excited. Art had been one of your favorite hobbies for the longest. But as you endured your hardships during high-school, it was something that didn’t seem to bring light into your life anymore. Painting had been the one thing you missed the most, though. The way the bristles of the brush glided against the canvas was a long gone, yet euphoric feeling. Something about watching the trail of paint that followed the brush was relaxing. It was a stress reliever for you, and something that you’d wish to experience again. Preferably soon. On top of that, you’d not always been independent. Throughout your life, as your parents grew more and more absent, that was the time you had to learn how to live on your own. Not only did it cause more stress, but it left no time for your stress relieving hobby. Although it wasn’t a young age, it was still challenging as you were previously left to rely on people for your whole life. Nowadays, being independent was something you still struggled with, but when you did it you could feel a small flame ignite inside you. Another feeling that you missed often, but enjoyed. Hopefully, this job could help fuel that.

As your shift continued, you couldn’t help but feel excited. Not only because you were back in a place that used to bring you so much happiness, but also because of Seungmin. Thinking back to his messages left your heart to flutter. The clock grew nearer and nearer, and you couldn’t help but eagerly wait for 4:00 P.M. to hit. Except, all that excitement crashed down the moment the door opened. You looked up as the bell chimed to see none other than Hwang Hyunjin. A feeling of uneasiness and slight anxiety immediately sparked inside of you. This was something that several people had warned you about. Hell, you should’ve expected it yourself. Both yours and Hyunjin’s passion for art was something that was strong, it was something you shared. Well, used to share.. It’s not like you doubted Jeongin’s words, you had expected to run into him. But not this soon, you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for this yet.

You could feel your chest tighten as your eyes scanned his figure, he hadn’t noticed you yet. Was it too late to book it out the back? But then you’d be risking your job. Your job that you desperately needed. With a deep breath, you spoke and decided to treat him like any other customer. “Can I help you find anything.” Hyunjin’s moves came to a sudden hault. You could’ve swore you saw his grip tighten around nothing, his knuckles growing white. His eyes made contact with yours. There was something about his gaze, his piercing gaze that shot chills down your spine. The fake smile you had plastered on didn’t last long. It soon faded as you fidgeted with the keychain that dangled from your belt loop behind the counter. Your body was now filled with anxiety. Thankfully, the door opening tore both of your eyes away from each other. Your eyes trail back to the door where Felix had just followed in. ‘Thank god.’ was all you could think.

“Oh hey Y/N!” The blonde greeted you, earning a glare from the taller male that stood next to him. However, it had gone ignored. With a subtle swallow, you greeted back. “Hey Felix. Did you need help finding anything?” But before Felix could answer, a certain someone had beat him to it. “We’re fine, thanks.” Your body tensed up at Hyunjin’s harsh tone. It was the first time he’d talked directly to you, and not spat insults over text. Hyunjin quickly made his way behind a shelf to avoid having to see you, dragging his friend with him. That of who shot you a sympathetic look. As they disappeared out of sight briefly, you exhaled a sigh of relief glancing back at the clock. Ten minutes was going to end up feeling like an eternity. Anxiously as time passed, your fingers tapped against the glass shelf by the checkout counter. Although he was still in the store, he was out of sight. That alone managed to ease your nerves a bit. It was until you heard that harsh tone, once again. “Where are the oil paints?” Glancing up, your eyes met once again with Hyunjin’s. It briefly took you back to high-school. You remember looking into his eyes and seeing nothing but a soft look. One filled with safeness, you saw love and affection in his eyes.

However, all you could see now was pure hatred. You weren’t sure why, but your heart ached a little at that thought. Eventually, you mustered up the courage to respond. “Uhm, depends what brand.” His eyes narrowed,

“What?”

“It.. depends what brand. They’re on the shelf over there.” You gestured. “But.. If you’re wanting a more high end brand then I’ll have to grab it from the back..” The words softly and cautiously fell through your teeth. You’d not had a physical conversation with Hyunjin in years. Surprisingly to you, his voice was the same. It hadn’t changed, and the more you observed about him the more pain you felt in your heart.

You two were so good together, why did things have to end up this way?

“So?” He spat out harshly. You were left utterly confused with his question, still keeping your guard up. “So… what?” You retaliated back at him, except you kept a nicer tone. You made a point to not piss him off more. He crossed his arms, “You know what brand I use, or did our relationship just mean that little to you.” That specific statement left both you and Felix frozen, along with a thick tension in the air. You inhaled shakily, there was no way he was doing this right now; right? After all these years? “You know what, let’s go Hyunjin-“

“It’s okay Felix.” Turning to the blonde who had now haulted his attempt to drag Hyunjin away before he could make it any worse. Slowly, you watched his grip loosen and soon release from Hyunjin’s arm who meanwhile, was stiff and filled with hatred. Your head turned back to Hyunjin. “To put it simply, I made a point to forget everything about us after we broke up. It wasn’t worth remembering.” Truthfully, that was not the case. You still knew and remembered every little detail about him, whether you wanted it or not. His favorite brand, his favorite color and food. You even remembered the name of the cologne he used. In fact, you could smell it. It was like he planted a seed with his DNA in your heart. It was an unshakeable and painful feeling. Even so, you stood your ground and watched as his face grew red. Out of anger or embarrassment? You’d never know.

You kept a firm ground, your eyes glaring back into his. Hyunjins eyes glanced back and forth between you, and the shelf that held the oil paints which he had some how overlooked. Likely due to the anger he could feel when he heard your voice. And as if it couldn’t have been better timing, the door opened once again. You quickly looked away, finding any excuse to break eye contact. This time, it was Seungmin who walked in, and you couldn’t help but let a smile creep onto your face. “Hey, Seungmin.” You stepped out from behind the counter, making your way over blissfully unaware that Hyunjin’s eyes had followed you. “I thought we were going out after my shift?”

‘Going out?’ Hyunjin thought. His eye twitched at the thought of one of his childhood friends and his ex dating. Anger began to boil inside him. You surely hadn’t meant anything romantic by the term ‘going out’ right? Then again, why should he care? Maybe because it felt like a stab in the back. Not from you, but from Seungmin. Someone he had put all his trust into for years. Felix immediately recognized the problem and tension at hand, “Let’s go Hyunjin, we’ll come back later.” He muttered quietly, successfully dragging him out of the store this time, leaving you and Seungmin alone. Except you were completely unaware that a new problem had been created.

Felix had decided to take him next door to the cafe they both worked at, sitting him down at a table in the corner which was somewhat tucked away. Hyunjin was mad, irritated, livid. He was pissed, and it showed. “Fucking bastard.” The words fell from his mouth as he ran his fingers to the middle of his scalp, tucking his head away as he acquired a tight grip on the strands of his hair. It wasn’t long before the shorter male noticed his knuckles turning white. “That’s not healthy Hyunjin, quit it.” With felix’s words and the way his hands grabbed onto Hyunjin, he was able to pry his fingers away from his hair. “Remember what your therapist said-“

“Felix I don’t give a fuck what the therapist said.” He snapped, head now tucked in his hands. Luckily, Hyunjin was quiet, but that didn’t erase the sharpness in his tone. “I don’t fucking go there anymore so it really doesn’t matter.”

“Okay well you need to.” His tone was now sharp as well. The black haired male raised his head to glare at his friend. “Not you too, that shits fucking stupid.” He leaned back in the chair as he crossed his arms. He was going through so much and all anyone cared about was sending him back to therapy? He scoffed at the thought. Felix couldn’t help but sigh at Hyunjin’s behavior. Despite how frustrated he was, he kept his composure. “It’s not stupid, Hyunjin. There’s a reason you went in the first place and-“

“Okay well drop it! I’m not going back and you can’t force me!” His voice grew louder as he raised out of his seat, now attracting attention despite being tucked away at a corner table. Except all Felix could do was stare up at him, unable to care about the stares they may be receiving. His face showed nothing but pure irritation towards him. Hyunjin then happened to catch a glance outside the cafe window. There you and Seungmin were. Hands interlocked as he leaned over to whisper something in your ear. All he could do was sit and watch at how you giggled at whatever he whispered to you. That did it for him, pushing the chair over and storming off to what Felix could only assume to be the break room despite not being on the clock. His eyes shut at the racket of the chair hitting the floor. The blonde took a deep breath before standing up to pick it up. He glanced up at one of his co workers, apologizing for the noise before going behind the counter himself after Hyunjin.

Meanwhile, you and Seungmin were unaware of the conflict. Well, Seungmin was to an extent.. “Seriously Seungmin, I appreciate the gesture but you didn’t have to pick me up from work.” Seungmin’s lips curved into a smile before parting, giving you a glimpse of his perfect teeth. His fingers finding their way in between yours. “It was nothing, seriously. Besides..” He trailed off before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “More time with you.” His breath was warm, despite the somewhat cold fall air nipping at your skin. Heat rose to your cheeks and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Well then, glad to know I’m fun to be around.” Your eyes briefly looked up before looking back down. A breath of air escaped from your lips as a thought crossed your mind. Your smile turning into a purse of your lips. It was a comfortable silence of you lost in thought, and Seungmin successfully managing to take in every single one of your features without being noticed.

“What you thinking about? Seems like you’re lost in thought..” He said as he started to lead you by one hand along the sidewalk. Your eyes looked up to meet his as you walked. There was a question that was unanswered to you. Yet, it was one that could possibly backfire against you, or you receiving an answer you didn’t want. Eventually, you found the will to ask. “Where do you think this is leading..” Seungmin stopped and you did the same as you came to a cross walk. The screen signaling for you to wait. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Where is what leading?” Seungmin’s body turned to face yours. “I mean.. us? This..” You trailed off as you gestured to your interlocked hands, earning a chuckle from him. “Well…”

He started and took a brief pause before continuing. Yet this brief paused seemed to last for hours. Part of you wanted to be more with him, to put a label on you guys. But another part of you felt differently.. Before you could decipher what that feeling was, he gave you your answer. “Whatever you want us to be..” His head tilted as he looked down at you. A smile tugged at both of your lips simultaneously. Unfortunately, the moment was then ruined by the screen changing, letting pedestrians know it was their turn to walk.

As the evening continued, that conversation and his confusing(?) answer was pushed to the back of your mind. What did you want? Hell you didn’t even know yourself. Every relationship since Hyunjin had done nothing but damage you internally. You swore when you were with Hyunjin that there would be no one better than him. Did you want to risk heartbreak again, or worse? Better question, why was your guys relationship still on your mind. You should’ve been over him a long time ago, in your eyes. All these questions raced through your mind as the night came to a close, and Seungmin walking you from his car to your doorstep. Before you could reach for the handle, he stopped you. “So.. you never gave me an answer.” He said in a somewhat serious tone. “What do you mean?” You cocked your head to the side. He smiled before softly asking the question you knew was coming.

“What do you want us to be?”

You froze, looking up at him. “I wasn’t aware you asked..” You teased as he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. His brown eyes still visible even with the shadow casted from his hair. You observed them, they were filled with a look of safety, affection, and something else you couldn’t quite decipher yet. Whether it was the heat of the moment, or maybe you had internally decided an answer, next thing you knew you leaned up. Briefly, you pressed your lips to his. And as you pulled back, you noticed a look of what seemed to be uncertainty in his eyes. You then questioned if it was a mistake. Anxiety ran through your veins. Did you fuck up?? But even with these doubts racing through your head, you questioned him. “Does that answer your question?” A smile falling upon both your faces as he chuckled. “I think it does.”

Now, it was his turn to initiate. Seungmin’s lips found their way back to yours. His hands gently grabbing your waist to pull you a bit closer. His touch was gentle, welcoming. So welcoming your arms snaked up around his neck. He tilted his head as he deepened the kiss. You only had to have been there for about 30 seconds but it felt so much shorter. As he pulled back, you had wished it lasted a bit longer. “Goodnight, yn.” He hesitated but let his arms return back to his side, you doing the same. As you parted ways, bid your goodnights and headed upstairs to your room, you couldn’t help but think. It had only been two short months, but you felt a spark with Seungmin. It was a different spark. A lot of different feelings crept their way into your heart with Seungmin, it was almost worrying. Almost…

Should it have been worrying? Maybe? But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care right now. For once you weren’t thinking about school, your parents, or even Hyunjin. You were distracted, and that’s all you cared about. All you could hope is for things to remain this way, if not blossom into something better. Something more

but we all don’t get what we want…

taglist: @rylea08 @estella-novella @gabriellamarie @elqivxstxr @4ln-stay8 @lostgirlinthewoodss @hwashua-luv @linavc @yaniluvs @ddroh @writtingrubberducky @vegetablesarefuntables @lixies-favorite-cookie @emilywjinnie

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starryjkoo · 13 hours ago

Note

Please only Jungkook and Jungkook himself is to blame for people (a.k.a his own fans) always twisting his words and actions. Y'all have never bothered to ask yourselves why it's always JK who has to go through this and not the other members, especially the other two maknae line members, since people are just as obsessed with them too?

It's because for years JK has constantly contradicted himself in his words and actions, especially when it comes to Jimin. One minute he's hot, the next he's cold. One minute he says something nice about Jimin and then the next he's back to being an insensitive prick. One minute he's initiating touch with Jimin, the next he looks like he's close to physically throwing up when Jimin does the same to him😅. One moment he does something for Jimin that'll convince you that he truly loves him just a bit more than the others, the next he goes above and beyond for EVERYONE else while making it seem like it's impossible for him to even do the bare minimum for JM (his trip to Hawaii for Tae vs him saying "nah" when Jimin asked him to come watch him practice the next time ???)

No one but JK is responsible for the way his fandom is right now and for how they are treating Jimin. Things like these don't just stem from nowhere. These are his FANS projecting this "he's uncomfortable with Jimin/he hates Jimin/them" narrative onto him and his actions keep the narrative alive and consistent, while naturally the ones who care about Jimin/his relationship with Jimin will be sensitive to how he acts and expect him to be better.

Of course it's obvious that JK loves Jimin a lot and the "uncomfortable" Jikook moments have never bothered me personally because I've always had a reason about why they exist/why JK is like that with Jimin and it's a positive reason. But we can't deny the existence of certain things and why those things exist in the first place.

From an objective standpoint, it makes sense why there are people who believe he doesn't like Jimin and why every time he shows that he does in fact like Jimin or even more-than-just "like" Jimin, they resort to saying he's pretending or that he's being "forced". It also makes sense why there are those who have "high/unrealistic" expectations for him.

And BOTH those sides make up his own fandom, unlike others like Jimin whose antis are the one projecting the "he's fake/pretentious, doesn't really love JK or anybody" personality onto him. It's all from and because of JK.

The same way someone can be infinitely kind, patient and self-less but the one time they snap and express anger for some reason, people will be like "yep this is their real personality, these are their true colours, they were just pretending the whole time"

I’m procrastinating and avoiding doing something rn so I’ll go ahead and give this a long and serious answer even though I’m not super keen on asks like this. I think other people have probably already addressed this topic a lot better than me, but I’d like to spend a minute defending JK since I’ve already addressed the way fandom treats JM a few times on here.

First of all, it’s always JK having to go through this because JK sits at the center of the two most popular ships in an extremely toxic shipping culture where they are constantly fighting over his validation. That’s why his words and actions face the most amount of scrutiny and why they’re weaponized more often than any of the other members (even though it still does happen with other members). I think it’s really as simple as that. tkkrs especially are constantly twisting his words and actions painting him as a villain because Jikook makes them insecure, which is the same reason why they think JM is evil incarnate.

JJKs are half tkkrs, half Y/N’s (or kpop stans who hate and have always hated BTS) and they hate JM more than anything because on top of shipping, he’s also JK’s “main competition”. Of course they want to think that JK hates JM as much as they do when most of them are constantly projecting onto him. I’ll also add that there are a lot of JM/TH overly biased shippers who take everything JK says and does extremely personally too, and then they get their feelings irrationally hurt and take it out on Jungkook. A lot of ex-jkkr PJMs are extra vicious to him because of stuff like this too.

I’m not sure why you think these people are making rational objective observations that have any validity just because they consider themselves his “fans” when most of them are extremely biased and often have some sort of agenda when claiming that he doesn’t like Jimin.

The vast majority of examples of JK being “rude” are just projection and people taking everything he does in bad faith too. I don’t know what examples you mean where JK was allegedly so “insensitive” towards Jimin tbh, because I just constantly see people exaggerating normal teasing and playing to seem like some massive evil thing. And if you’re talking about clips from 200 BCE when he was literally barely a teenager and they were all like that - I don’t think that’s fair to hold against him either.

But let’s say that JK had a moment where he was insensitive - so why isn’t he allowed to be human? Have you never had days where you’re tired, or grumpy, or don’t want to be touched, ever had a moment where you were unintentionally a bit insensitive, a joke that fell flat or came out meaner than intended? Never gotten shy, self-conscious or distracted? Ever had a disagreement with friends? Gotten a little too competitive?

And it’s not just JK who has had these moments btw, it’s all the members because they’re human and none of them are perfect, they’re allowed to experience occasional negative emotions, allowed to have bad days, or quiet days, or days they don’t want to be touched, or are a little snippy with each other. I can't even begin to imagine having to navigate that kind of environment while dealing with my own negative emotions and having everything recorded, picked apart, and weaponized like that.

I feel like you’re basically saying that JK is never allowed to have an off day, and he’s never allowed to be in a bad mood, or say no to something he doesn’t feel like doing? He also can’t tease vmin or be sassy with them the way they are with each other, or the way most of us are with our own friends & family? He can’t get a little shy with JM either? He can only be happy and positive 100% of the time or risk validating psychos who want to claim he hates his bandmates? How is it his fault that people interpret everything he says and does with the most bad faith takes imaginable because of ship and stan wars?

Also I’m going to need a better example of JK not being willing to do something for Jimin because agreeing to go to Hawaii for a fun trip and sky-diving vs not wanting to go to the HYBE building (his workplace that he was mostly avoiding at the time) to sit on the floor and watch JM practice for hours is not really comparable. I don’t even think Jimin cared nearly as much as some people act, he was teasing JK and encouraging him to get out more and smiling throughout that entire exchange, it was never that serious tbh.

What gets me about that whole situation too is that JK was more outwardly supportive of JM during FACE era than he was for any other member, but it’s still not good enough for some people for some reason. And you’re talking about JK being willing to go to Hawaii, but didn’t he travel two more times with JM after JM came to him in NY? Didn’t he agree to JM’s show idea, all this on top of having an insane schedule? Not to mention the night before Jeju, did he not cook Jimin four servings of whatever food after a long plane ride simply because JM asked him to?

JM in AYS swore at JK several times, got genuinely exasperated at him in the grocery store (one of my favorite scenes lol), threw two slippers at him, climbed on him and mimed hitting him, stuffed a napkin somewhat aggressively in his mouth, sprayed windshield wiper fluid on him while he was on his bike, bossily told JK to cook for him (that JK did happily and without complaint), clung to the back of his shirt and wouldn’t let go even when JK asked him to, had JK looking at him with a low-key scared expression when he picked up a chunk of snow, and so on. He’s pushed JK off of him before too. Does this invalidate all of the nice things that Jimin has done? Were any of those things ever that serious? Wasn’t it obviously fond, playful, or normal behavior between friends? So why is it okay to use that kind of stuff against JK, but not Jimin?

I’m just going to have to heavily disagree that there’s ever been a logical objective basis in thinking that JK dislikes Jimin, or that he’s uncomfortable with him. I’m not talking about shipping, I mean the people who think that they’re not even friends, because that’s actually an insane thing to think, and no normal fan is going to look at JKs behavior, where he has had countless examples of encouraging, complimenting, having fun with, and supporting Jimin - who he literally enlisted together with - and then think that they don’t like each other, or that they have a bad relationship, or that JK is annoyed with or dislikes JM. What normal, rational person would actually think that JK would enlist with someone who made him uncomfortable? 99% of the things people use against JK are just normal friendly teasing, and I don’t think he should be expected to act like a friendless robot in fear of a handful of weirdos twisting his words so they can be shady and nasty towards Jimin on social media.

And honestly if people don't like JK's personality or how he comes off that's their right but it's also just their personal opinion, they shouldn't project that on JM who clearly doesn't mind and seems to really enjoy their dynamic a lot. If he didn't like it, he would call it out. Instead he has zero worries about fighting with JK in the military despite Jin's cautioning that even friends of ten years end up fighting. I've seen the hot and cold thing before, and maybe I'm just mostly coming up blank because I'm not one of those jkkrs with encyclopedic knowledge, but I think any moments like that were really not so serious to hold such a grudge over, or to be interpreted so extremely and then used to justify such illogical takes.

Also you’re saying that JJKs interpreting JKs words and actions shadily means something, but you know that PJMs have done the same thing with Jimin right? Like it was PJMs who started that whole thing during Yoongi’s concert trying to imply that JM shaded JK when he said ARMYs were having more fun that night. Also I’ve seen PJMs posting that quote where JM said he was being careful about what he posts online while in the military to shade other members (and then they got mad when iirc KTHs took it personally lol). I also remember PJMs hyping up the fact that Jimin didn’t post for Seven (until he posted JKs hot100 #1). And I remember the whole debacle of that music show hug where both KTHs/PJMs were acting like it was the coldest, most impersonal hug they’ve ever seen and proof the two were no longer friends only for all that to be followed by vicnic and a lot of vmin moments. I can't remember the exact context but I think they've tried to do this with YG too. Solos projecting their negative feelings onto whoever they bias is not anything new, and it’s not something that only happens with JK. Pretty sure a lot of PJMs and some JM biased spent a good chunk of CH2 trying to push the narrative that JM was purposefully distancing himself from tkk because a lot of them simply wanted it to be true, only for the last half of the year to be the literal opposite of that. I've also seen a few PJMs push the fanservice narrative despite that literally being something he receives an insane amount of hate for.

It’s also extremely typical to see stans projecting mean girl personalities onto whoever they bias, I see people do it with groups all the time. Hell, ARMYs just did the same thing with JK’s comment about APT mentioning only Bruno implying he was shading Rose when I sincerely doubt that was his intention. That’s just how people operate in stan spaces, and it’s not the fault of the idols. Another example being aespa, those girls seem like they’re friends with half the industry and yet I constantly see their stans trying to pretend they’re shading every other group.

JJKs being what they are is probably a whole other discussion but no I do not blame JK for his solos being like that at all (just like I would never blame JM for PJMs). He also has a lot of token stans and success stans who don’t even like or respect him as a person, so no I don’t think they understand his personality or have any rational basis in interpreting his words and actions so negatively.

Anyway it's sad that humans always choose to focus on the negative. Someone could show they love another person or a thing all the time, and the few times they do something towards that person/thing that others perceive as the opposite of love, they'll latch onto it and conclude that person doesn't actually love the person/thing. And the other times they show that love won't matter to them anymore. The same way someone can be infinitely kind, patient and self-less but the one time they snap and express anger for some reason, people will be like "yep this is their real personality, these are their true colours, they were just pretending the whole time"

Anyways, I totally agree with this? Which is why your ask has me a bit confused (like is this bait to get me to yap in defense of JK 😭). Isn’t this like the perfect example of victim blaming then, because you’re saying it’s JKs fault that people are choosing to overlook all the good and nice things he does or says to focus on only their negative interpretation instead. Maybe your point is you feel that JK is genuinely being rude or insensitive, which is where I disagree, because imo 99% of the time it’s people choosing to misinterpret his actions to fit their narrative/agenda, and the 1% is normal, human emotion and all seven of them have had their moments.

Jungkook shouldn’t be held to impossible standards just because toxic fans exist, he doesn’t deserve to be dehumanized like that. I just fundamentally do not believe that he or any of the members need to cater to these types of fans, I don’t think they should have to live their lives being paranoid about what they say and do being taken out of context and twisted to that extent. Again, the only people who think that JK hates Jimin are super baised solos and shippers, not normal average fans, and JK shouldn’t have to alter his behavior to cater to those people who will most definitely find a way to twist his words and actions regardless of what he says or does, antis even do this with BTS in general, with Namjoon especially for fanwars all the time trying to twist his words. None of the members should ever be held at fault for their toxic solos or shippers.

anyways, I never found the right moment to post this video, but it's vaguely relevant here so I'll go ahead and add it. every time the discourse about the members being rude to each other pops up I think of this ProZD video about friends

youtube

#discourse #ask #anon #jikook #i didn't mean to dip into discourse #now i have to balance with two fun jkk posts #when i get a min #but no i really hate the way that some jkkrs treat jk #i think a lot of people get very oversensitive #bc of how toxic the shipping environment is #jungkook

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manicandobsessive · 18 hours ago

Text

Icarian | L.H.

Chapter 1: Wildflower and Barley

"Springtime from my window. Another month has not much longer now. The sun hesitates more on each evening's darkening. Would all things god allows, remain above ground? Like grief and sweet memory, wildflower and barley." - Andrew Hozier Byrne

Prologue > Ch. 1 > Ch. 2

A/N: Thank you for the love on Nobody's Soldier! I plan on doing a taglist so comment or message to be added. Sorry this took so fucking long life was kicking my ass, I'll try to get chapters out as much as I can. I wanna make sure I give y'all some high quality stuff though. ANYWHOOOOO enjoy ch 1!! <3

Warnings: Fem!human reader, Logan has attatchment issues, Swearing, Mentions of religon, Jean Grey slander

WC: 9.5k

The only things you could hear were the light bristle of the trees and the occasional chirp of the birds. The smell of spring and promise of summer that came alongside it brought you more serenity than one could imagine. Especially when peace in your mind never meant much to you. It was seemingly impossible. But now, here, you finally felt it.

Of course, some days could be better than others. You still felt the lingering effects of all you’d been through in the back of your head. Their words, their actions, none of that truly ever went away. But spring brought in a form of quiet you hadn’t experienced- ever, and you could at the very least appreciate that.

The light warmth of the sun blessed your skin, the breeze made some stray strands of hair fall in front of your eyes. You’d made progress, and that was enough for you. You still were able to recall the days where being alone without brain stimulation was almost dangerous, the presence of a distraction was your lifeline more times than you could count. Those times were when the thoughts became too loud, and the noise- nothing short of overwhelming. Be that as it may, Charles’ mansion had gifted you a part of yourself that you never knew existed.

You never could express how grateful you felt, although the bastard probably already knew. Prodding around your head and all.

The distant laughing and shouting of the kids playing their games made you flutter your eyes open. A grin tugged at your lips due to the sound, simply seeing them happy made you happy in return. It reminded you of the better times, those rare moments when everything else had faded to nothing and all you were left with was joy.

However, the fragment of a memory wasn’t ever going to be enough to provide you with any lingering desire to return to that.

You slowly sat up, purposefully avoiding the dizziness you dreaded from lying down for a long period of time. You felt noticeably calmer than you were when you ventured outside in the first place. And as an added bonus: no feeling like the world was spinning on its axis.

You ran a hand through your hair to lazily brush it back to its original style. Allowing it to freely cascade down your back and frame your face. You then stood up, adjusting the waistband of your jeans and tugging your shirt back to a comfortable position. Cracking your neck and back, and leisurely picking up your belongings. Those being no more than a pair of headphones, a book, and a water bottle.

While you never really read, you enjoyed pretending to.

You casually strolled back to the mansion, a content manner about you. All you could think about was how much you loved spring and the way you had felt lighter on your feet. You couldn’t even remember why you were so furious in the first place-

Nevermind.

The second you opened the door to the back gardens. The one used specifically to enter and leave that part of the school. The weather damage and the grating sound when used was proof enough. That all went out the window.

Upon entering the school, you made eye- if you could even call it that- contact with the single soul responsible for said anger.

In an attempt to pass by him without a word, you swerved the other direction, keeping your chin held high. Your things were clutched close to your chest. It was in his best interest he didn’t speak to you, and yet- he still did.

Leave it to Summers to not take a fucking hint.

He said your name with an odd mix of assertive-caution. You rolled your lips and turned back to face him, finding yourself a good enough distance away that you could excuse yourself at any moment easily.

You can handle him. It’s fine.

“We need to talk.”

Or not.

The way he- without fail, managed to irritate you with a simple phrase was honestly impressive. If not for your underlying urge to break his goddamn nose.

“Not in the mood.” You replied shortly, rolling your shoulders backwards. A half-assed effort to prevent yourself from saying more.

“Don’t be like that.”

The both of you were honestly surprised you hadn’t made an attempt to take his life yet. You couldn’t help the involuntary raise of your brows at his tone. It was a silent warning- to him. You’d hoped he’d gotten the message.

“You know I just want what’s best for you-”

Shocker. He didn’t.

Blah blah, you tuned it all out as you typically did when he began his meaningless lectures with those 9 words. You were quite simple minded, conflict-wise. If you didn’t want to speak to someone, you didn’t. If they didn’t respect your request, you didn’t care to hear what they had to say. It’s just how you worked. He could at least try to accept that.

“Listen,” you started, cutting him off. It was better he quit, or forcefully resigned, while he was ahead.

“Last I checked, you’re not my dad. Or my older brother. Or any person that holds any type of authority over me in general. You don’t technically have a say in any fucking thing I do. That being said, if I do decide to go out on my own, it’s really none of your goddamn business. For your information, I simply asked out of basic respect for Charles. But I won’t. And I mean won’t, Scott, tolerate being talked down to because of something as basic as that. Understand?”

He cleared his throat, his expression hinted to you that your response was the absolute last thing he expected out of this conversation. You were normally a patient person, understanding even. It seemed he’d pushed you well beyond your limits. He opened his mouth to reply, to which he was cut off, yet again.

Except this time, it wasn’t you.

“Listen Slim, she asked ya to shut up. So for everyone’s sake, will ya?” And there, out of thin air, appeared Logan. You’d learned his name was, after the- very- brief interaction you’d had with him no more than a few days ago.

Scott obnoxiously cleared his throat, as he does when he’s uncomfortable. Or when the room’s attention is focused anywhere that’s not him and him alone.

Both you and Logan came back to your senses, you shook your head softly. Promptly clearing your mind of any wandering thoughts. Logan mentally facepalmed at his inability to keep his mood from switching so suddenly.

Not his fault you were fucking breathtaking. The man was practically rendered speechless. Still, he returned the scowl to his face, easy enough to do with Scott right there. He was extremely unwilling to let anyone know he was just about ready to plan your wedding in his head. That would stay locked away forever.

“Logan, what exactly do you need?” Scott questioned, his attitude even more disgusting with the new presence in the room, you’d noticed. You could metaphorically cut the tension between the two with a knife. But there you silently watched, as if it were your favorite reality show. Your arms stayed crossed in a subconscious state of defense, curious as to why this ‘Logan’ guy had to interrupt so overdramatically.

“Where’s Chuck?” Chuck? Who the fuck is-

Oh. Charles.

He’s one of those.

“Like I said before, what do you need?” Scott replied in a way that you could only equate to how parents speak to their children. Which seemed to irk Logan on even more than he already had been. “Ya ain’t the fuckin’ professor, Summers.” He responded with a tone that made you bite your bottom lip to hold in the laugh threatening to escape you. Despite your distaste towards the man for interfering in on your conversation, you had to admit that was kinda funny.

“‘M gonna ask ya one more time,”

And that was your queue to leave. You weren’t keen on fighting, or watching others fight. And you had a feeling staying there, blatantly eavesdropping, would result in something you didn’t want to be a part of. Especially with how big Logan was. Or with the way he was burning holes into Scott’s head and essentially growling with those last few words.

You let loose a sigh of relief, thankful that someone had stepped in. Finding yourself even more grateful that someone was Logan, who from the all of 5 minutes you’d heard him speak to Scott, knew how to put him in his place.

Most likely because Scott knew he’d end up with a broken rib, or 4.

“I’m just explaining-”

“Buddy,” Logan clapped his hand on the man's shoulder in the most sarcastic way he could. He treated Scott like a little kid. And in many ways, he may as well have been. “I’ve been hearin’ ya talk to yourself for the last like- 2 minutes. She clearly ain’t interested.”

To that, you snorted a small, tiny, miniscule laugh. One Logan, to your surprise, caught with a smirk. Whilst Scott was too wrapped up in his own humiliation to pay much attention to anything else. He brushed off Logan’s hand and muttered something that sounded- almost- like an apology to you, before scurrying away. Most likely to pester someone else about rules and whatnot. Seriously, how does the guy walk normally with that huge stick up his ass?

Logan folded his arms, running a hand down his face in a display of pure exhaustion before facing you. You snapped out of your daze, your eyebrows lifting to a softer, less agitated expression as you glanced up at the man.

Was he this tall when you last saw him?

You huffed a small laugh, and an appreciative smile graced your features. One Logan found more attractive than his conscious mind was willing to accept.

“Thanks,” You spoke up first, making his smirk widen just slightly. If you weren’t so observant, you wouldn’t have caught it. But you did, and it made your heart beat just a tiny bit faster.

“‘S no problem, darlin’.” He replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek in turn. The nickname didn’t go unnoticed, and yet all you could do was stand there and nod.

Fucking talk you moron.

Your inner thoughts shouted at you to say literally anything. But, with the intimidating presence in front of you, you couldn’t utter a string of words, let alone one single response. You opted for the easiest way out: a curt nod and walking the opposite direction of where you assumed he was headed. Avoiding this would make things easier, even if your room was on the entire other side of the building. (and you’d have to make a complete turn around once you were out of sight.)

However, his voice stopped you in your tracks. The smooth way he spoke made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at a full 90 degree angle. It was deep, rough, but gentle in a way you couldn’t put a finger on. Unique.

“Yeah?” You turned back over your shoulder at the call of your name. Your voice- by some miracle- projected the confidence you so severely lacked at that point in time. You patted yourself on the back for it, mentally.

How did he know that? The sound of those syllables coming from his mouth sent a harsh rush of warmth directly to your cheeks.

“Right?”

You couldn’t help but cock your head sideways. Completely clueless to whatever the hell he was talking about. Maybe you were too in your own world to hear him.

Damn it.

“Sorry, what?”

You felt idiotic, “what” being your response? The best you could give was that?

“Your name. That’s it, right?” He replied, chuckling to himself at your display of confusion. It was cute, that much he’d admit. For now.

“Oh,” The realization hit you like a brick wall to the face. “Yeah. Yeah that’s it.”

You scratched the back of your neck, taking a careful step towards where Logan stood, rooted in place. He carried himself with such a quiet confidence, something you’d admired right away. You had wondered what made him that way. Maybe the fact that he looked like he could throw you across the room and not break a sweat was a factor. Or maybe he was just that type of person. Or maybe it was all an act. But who were you to say?

He shot you a playful smirk and nodded in acknowledgement. You didn’t seem to notice the quick once-over he did, or maybe you just refused to come to terms with it, he thought. Surely you knew how gorgeous you were. There was no room for debate on that. He was enamoured with everything, your entire way about you, it was making him melt from the inside-out.

You felt the need to continue the conversation, to learn more about who he is. “You’re Logan?” You inquired, knowing damn well that of course, he’s Logan. Who else would he be?

Truthfully, it was the only string of coherent words that came to mind at the time.

“That’d be me, darlin’.”

There it was again.

Was he doing this on purpose?

From the wry look he gave you, the teasing glint in his eyes- he most certainly had been. And, matter of fact, he was enjoying it.

He liked the way your face flushed, the way your eyes widened slightly everytime a nickname fell from his lips. He wondered if you had never been shown that type of affection, one that most would brush past. You may not have noticed, but he sure as hell did. He found himself fond of the little quirks you had. Even after speaking to you for all of 10 minutes.

You nodded, pursing your lips to prevent the smile ready to likely invade your features regardless. You then bit your thumbnail, something you did when you were nervous, and glanced around the hall you were both in. Finding the wallpaper pattern suddenly more interesting than ever. The intruding thought of how awkward you had been took full control of your senses.

“How long’ve ya been here?” His voice broke through your thoughts- yet again. He, too, wasn’t quite ready to let go of this interaction.

You gave him a sidelong glance, a minor twitch of your lips signaled to Logan that you were just as intrigued as he was. Which then gave him all the confirmation he needed to take a calculated step towards you. Now at a much more comfortable distance, he could see the features of your face even closer. And fuck were you making it hard to keep it cool.

You shrugged slightly, your body didn’t move much, if at all. He was slowly coming closer, inch by inch. And somehow, you were completely okay with it. You welcomed it.

You turned your body to face him, fully. He was clad in nothing but a grey tank top that highlighted his muscles almost too perfectly, paired with a well worn pair of jeans, and a belt that had a large and slightly rusted buckle. He looked rugged, but effortlessly striking nonetheless.

Quit it.

Your brain needed to shut down those thoughts as fast as they started.

He, however, noticed the once-over you gave him. The way you took in his appearance- it made him bashful, almost. The inconsolable undertone of nervous-excitement that jolted through his body at the exchange was far from casual. He still, however, returned the gesture- a risky one at that. Though you didn’t seem to pick up on it. Once again.

It would frustrate him if he didn’t find this little game entertaining. But regardless, he undoubtedly found you wearing a simple pair of high-waisted and slightly baggy jeans with a basic white t-shirt all the more attractive.

“I think it’s coming up on five years now. That I’ve been here.”

He nodded, raising a brow at the response, visibly confused.

“What’s that look for?” You laughed, mirroring his expression more teasingly. You were quickly opening up to him. Small bits of your personality shining through the facade you hid behind. How he managed to do that? The answer was beyond your comprehension.

“Nothin’, doll. Jus’ seems like I woulda remembered ya.” His voice alluded to something more. Almost as if he were studying you. Trying to see through you- it felt. Or being suggestive, in a way. Was he flirting?

“When did you get here then? I’ve never seen you before.” You took another step forward, hesitantly. His eyes still scanned your exterior as if he was racking his brain to find any memory of you.

“‘Bout 7 or 8 years ago, seems like I’ve been missin’ ya though.”

You nodded, biting your cheek again. Unknowing of how to respond to something like that. You’d never seen or heard of him much prior to the interaction days ago. And you guaranteed you would have at some point. “Yeah, seems like.” You replied softly, now looking him over in the same manner.

Absolutely not a chance in hell you could’ve forgotten someone like him.

His demeanor changed just slightly. His face went from one of intrigue, to confusion, and finally, realization. Your heart began to race, you wondered if it was something you’d done. Already fucking up something that hadn’t even started, sounds like you.

“Sorry, doll. Prof’s callin’ for me.” He cut through your overthinking in a split second. You allowed a smile, one of relief, to cross your face. He found the sight endearing, noting the way you relaxed at his reassurance. He’d keep that in mind for later.

You hummed in understanding and stepped around him, “I’ll see ya around?” He asked, turning over his shoulder to look at you again, a ghost of a smile in return to yours.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you Logan.” You turned back around, walking with purpose to your room. The way you said his name- ever so sweetly- was sure to be on constant replay in his head for the remainder of the day.

Probably the rest of the week, if he was being honest with himself.

Logan didn’t bother to knock on Charles’ door. The man knew The Wolverine was on his way, he was bound to be prepared for the chaos that would ensue. He briskly slammed the door behind him with a deafening thud. Crossing the room in a few strides to finally stand in front of the professor’s desk. The moment he’d come all this way to fucking Westchester, New York for.

“No need for the dramatics, Logan-”

“Save it.” He cut past the small talk rather fast. He never had the time for that shit, and now less than ever. His arms folded in front of his chest defiantly with a distinguished scowl. His anger was more present, the venom in his tone was palpable.

“Why am I here?” He tapped his foot on the hardwood flooring, awaiting a response that was more than likely to piss him off more than he already had been. Charles still kept his composure, his unwavering patience working doubletime against Logan’s obvious agitation.

“I’m afraid you already know the answer to that, my boy.” Charles simply responded.

This fucker always had to talk in riddles.

He thought that mainly for himself but he was convinced Charles heard it as well. Simply based on the amused sparkle the old man had in his eyes. Even more to his irritation. He knew the professor found it entertaining. His inner dialogue would 100 percent get him locked away with anyone else, but the professor? He reveled in it. Some of his funniest memories were simply prodding around Logan’s mind. Logan knew this to be true, even through his denial of it.

“I don’t. ‘M not settlin’ down ‘ere. Quit askin’.” Logan huffed, not only at the idea but also the knowing look in Charles’ eyes. Always carrying himself like he’s more educated on something Logan didn’t quite understand yet. Which isn’t entirely untrue. He did carry one of the strongest minds in the world.

“What?” Logan regretted the word- immediately, he knew this man would have some smart reply. Some profound revelation that would have the power to turn his world upside down if he let it. Most times he couldn’t help it, it’s just who Charles was. And who he was: a telepathic genius with a blunt way of speaking. The two factors did little to counteract the other. Logan could appreciate these qualities in the man, he respected him for it. Most didn’t have the guts to tell Logan what they really thought about him. But Charles, he never so much as hesitated. However, when it was something Logan didn’t want to hear? Well, that very well was a foolproof plan to end in disaster.

“I believe you may have some reason to, after all.” The professor sat back in his chair, a lax smile still ever-present on his face. The sight making Logan feel small in his own body. Which was ironic for a man of his size. Logan rolled his eyes, scoffing in the process. No way Chuck was trying this.

“If you’re implyin’ what I think-”

“I’m simply speaking the truth, Logan. You have no need to worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Was he really kidding with him?

That had to be a fucking joke.

“‘M stayin’ until ya have another mission f’me, that’s it.” His words were short. He was beyond done with this conversation. The man was trying to get him to admit what? He wanted to be here? Logan knew better than that. Settling down would never be for him, it could never be for a man like him. He'd come back here for an assignment, take it, and leave. And the cycle would repeat until he decided it didn’t. That’s how things worked for him. On his terms, no one else’s. He wasn’t ready for all that. The emotional aspect of things, sacrificing his pride. For the sake of having a place to call home?

He’d rather be shot 47 times.

“You’re quite stubborn, you know,”

And he did, boy did he ever. That was the one thing he didn’t completely resent about himself, his ability to stand strong. But now, there he stood, waiting for the words that were inevitably about to leave the professor’s mouth. Good or bad, he was positive their small amount of time together would end there for the day.

“You and her have very much in common.”

Yeah, he was done.

He mumbled something to the effect of “‘M not fuckin’ dealin’ with this.” and exited the office less than quietly. The man had no right, especially peeking around in his head like that. And even if he claimed not to, there’s no chance in hell he would have brought that up with no rhyme or reason. Logan hoped to hell his thoughts about you were that loud, so loud the professor couldn’t help but call attention to them. But he knew, oh he knew that you were lingering longer than welcome in his head. And he also knew he wasn’t opposed to letting you stay there.

He grumbled to himself all the way to his room, only stopping for a second when he ran into Jean in the hall. For some odd reason, he always stopped to talk to her. Probably the need to impress her, the all but obvious crush he once had festering for the woman in front of him keeping him cemented to the ground whether he wanted to or not.

“Woah, there big guy.” She naturally took hold of both his broad shoulders and looked up at him with those eyes he’d found himself thinking of a little more than he should’ve in the past. She knew about this infatuation, and without a doubt, every time he came back it made waves in her’s and Scott’s relationship. Logan always noticed. Always.

Her teasing smile made his muscles contract just slightly more than they had been previously. He ran a hand through his hair and took a respectful step backwards. He muttered nothing more than a straightforward: “Jean.” To which she smiled at and crossed her arms in front of her, her tongue ran over her soft pink lips. He knew she did all of this on purpose, only wanting to get a rise out of him. It seemed like an urge she had. At least from what Logan observed. Like she needed to feel that power over him. She’d rejected him time and time again. Making it known she was only for Scott, yet he found himself back where he started once he’d returned. Every. Single. Time.

Which- may or may not be part of the reason he started coming around less and less in the last few years.

“What brings you back this time, huh?” She stepped towards him, cocking a brow out of curiosity. He’d hoped. “Chuck. Last mission ‘s done.” His tone was clipped, uninterested. Despite his former need to please her, the constant nagging to chase- he felt nothing. Much to his relief, and slight confusion. Jean, alternatively, wasn’t having any of it. He could tell by the sudden shift to her expression. He saw the way her eyebrows dropped and her posture slumped by just a little. Logan, well, he couldn’t have cared less. He was already pissed, the added pressure of her emotions was about as unappealing as they could be to him at the moment.

He tried- and failed, to take a swift step around her form. A shot at leaving her standing in the hall and heading to the confines of his room without so much as another word. All he wanted was somewhere he could close his eyes and take a fucking breath.

Seems like she had other plans.

“Are you upset with me?” Her voice was fake, oh so calculated. So unlike the version of her he’d gotten to know all those years ago. She’d changed so drastically since he had given up on the idea of them. Since he decided the hope of being more than friends was practically useless. He was nothing but a game to her, he knew that. He just took a long time to come to terms with it. But after the last time he’d come back, it sealed the deal. He was over it before anything had even started. For the better, of course. One of the rare occasions when he’d chosen the logical answer: his own sanity.

He turned his head slightly, not bothering to even make basic eye contact with her, and he responded assertively. “‘Ain’t doin’ this, Jean. We’re friends, keep it that way.”

And with that, he left her in the hall. He ignored the glaringly obvious strain of guilt gnawing at his gut for being so cold to the woman he once was convinced he had loved. A story for another day.

But he still couldn’t find it in himself to give enough of a shit to turn around.

You knew that it wasn’t a good idea. The minute you stepped foot outside the threshold of your room you wanted to abort the mission and go back inside. The warmth of your bed called to you like a siren. It was appealing, for once. The longing to stay home clawing at the inner workings of your mind. Yet, your own stubbornness had stopped you.

Typical.

Dressed in leggings and a black sweatshirt- a pathetic attempt at being stealthy, you made your way downstairs. You didn’t so much as take a breath, to your knowledge, when you made your descent. Managing to shock yourself with your unusual lack of clumsiness. Which was near impossible for you to achieve on a good day. The creak of the stairs, if any, was unnoticeable. Though your anxiety still got the better of you as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation of something- or rather someone, finding you. For some reason, you still continued forward. At this rate it was to rub the fact that you’d left successfully into Scott’s stupid face and nothing more.

Your keys were stuffed in your bra in hopes that it would muffle the sound of them jingling before you had pulled them out to get into your car. In retrospect, a ridiculous idea. No one would be awake at that hour.

Slowly but surely your sock-covered feet made contact with the mansion’s main floor. You allowed yourself to breathe a light sigh of relief. You’d made it one step farther. Although, your escapade was far from over.

Logan, ever the insomniac, heard you the instant you opened your bedroom door. His razor-sharp senses picked up on the smallest of sounds. Though involuntary, it did come in handy at times such as these. His head snapped from where he was idly watching the movie in front of him. Some bullshit about ‘little women’. Nothing he actually needed to think about, just a way of sidetracking his brain, whose thoughts were ever-present and frustrated him to no end.Because why would he even attempt to sleep after a day like today?

He slowly sat up from his otherwise comfortable position on the couch. Leaning closer, towards the sound of muffled shuffling and the distress of the old stairs. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he watched you make your way downstairs from the floor of which your room remained. He nearly chuckled at the sight of you looking like an amateur robber in action, completely oblivious to his intense stare.

He’d stop you, but he was enjoying this far more than that movie.

As you “silently” shuffled to the garage door, he figured it was time to step in. He respected you being an independent woman and all, but for your own safety he was fairly certain he should at least know where you were headed. He couldn’t have Scott on his ass knowing full well he let you just up and leave like that.

He gradually stood up, his stride not so much as taking you by any form of surprise when he saw you laugh to yourself in the seemingly safe space of the driver’s side of your car. He found it charming, even if he was five seconds away from scaring the lights out of you.

“Where ya headed?”

You shrieked, jumping back so far that you collided with the headrest. Hard enough for you to consider having a concussion. The asshole just watched and laughed. With your eyes tightly shut, you rubbed the back of your neck in a half assed effort to either soothe the oncoming headache or uncross your eyes. You weren’t quite sure which one it was.

“Christ..” You muttered, the expression more to yourself but Logan, of course, had heard. He found it even funnier than the original reaction he’d gotten out of you. A true, rumbling chuckle blessed your ears.

In turn, you lightly fluttered your eyes open, glancing over at the towering man staring down at you from the outside of the car. You blinked again, just to be sure that it wasn’t some odd hallucination. Or that your brain wasn’t damaged to the point of fully dreaming.

You opened the door, stepping outside of the car rather shamefully. You felt like a kid again, getting reprimanded by her mother. Your face was flushed full of embarrassment, and you kept your eyes to the ground. Not willing to see the look on Logan’s face at the moment.

“Don’t let me stop ya, bub. Jus’ heard somethin’ from the livin’ room ‘s all.”

Those words had you unable to resist lifting up your head to find a lighthearted expression on his face. He truly wasn’t mad or disappointed, like you expected him to be. And he genuinely had found the situation amusing, which seriously relieved the tension in your body. At least from what Logan had noticed.

You shook your head softly whilst directing your attention back towards the floor. You laughed purely in a self deprecating manner. “Was planning on sneaking out,” You muttered, coming to the realization that the phrase sounded even worse as you said it aloud. You were absolutely sure he thought you were acting like some rebellious teenager. When, in all reality, you had every right to come and go as you pleased. No questions asked.

“Dunno why, just needed an escape.” You lifted your shoulders in a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance. You felt the need to explain yourself, despite Logan’s lack of incessant questioning. You were used to a lengthy lecture or consistent interrogation from Scott, sometimes even Jean. It built nothing in your relationships except for resentment. Ororo handled things with grace, she’d always made you feel validated. She had a way of empathizing that the other two had lacked severely. If you’d had one person to call a true friend, it was her. All three of them were around your age, yet Scott and Jean still treated you like you were nothing but a liability. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d asked for your freedom. As simple as that. Nothing more than the right to be your own person. And for some odd reason it always ended worse than it began. Needless to say, you’d given up on the dream. You instead focused on what you could control. Which unfortunately led to being generally lonesome in this place. These defenses were clear as day to Logan, but he refused to push you on them. He understood the frustration of being seen as someone unworthy of trust over their own facilities. He’d been experiencing his entire life. He rather simply allowed you to speak uninterrupted, and replied with nothing more than a nod when you were done. To your surprise.

“They don’t let ya out often?” He raised the question, he’d been genuinely curious to what the situation was. Was this what you and Scott were fighting over the other day? He didn’t have any need to let you know he was eavesdropping, but he’d assumed the latter. You didn’t come off as a difficult person, he doubted there had been much that you and Scott disagreed on. Or at least fought over. His assumption had been correct. Even if the man was insufferable.

“Don��t make it sound like I’m a patient in a ward, Logan.” You laughed at his choice of words. His own lips quirked into a soft smile and he uttered a gruff ‘sorry’ in return. You casually shut the door to the car, no longer careful of not being loud, and walked back inside the mansion. Promptly, and with significantly less caution than you’d had prior. Logan found your laid-back switch in demeanor compelling. He had to bite back a grin in admiration.

Nothing was really ever that deep to you.

You strolled back inside, Logan in tow beside you plainly. The silence between you two wasn’t awkward. It was simply a quiet that could be shared between people who have been friends for years. Who knew each other and were comfortable in that. And for someone on the outside looking in, it might’ve seemed that way.

“You’re watching Little Women?” You scoffed, a bemused laugh escaped you as you turned to Logan from the middle of the living area. He stood at the door, leaning against its frame with a deadpan expression. Trying his damndest to act serious, but when he saw the laugh you gave him, it chipped away his attitude immediately. The way you so effortlessly got under his skin was remarkable.

He grunted and pushed off the wall, stalking towards the couch. Lazily, he rounded it to flop back down onto the space he was resting moments before you showed up. Not that he was mad about it. You followed absentmindedly, your body sprawled out in a chair adjacent to him. You leant on one of the armrests, while your legs hung off the opposite comfortably. As if it were an everyday occurance. The act was domestic, natural. That had been the thing you’d predominantly picked up on with those minor interactions with Logan, no action was forced. Not to you at least. You didn’t know it, but he had thought the exact same.

You picked at the flaking polish on your nails whilst Logan sipped on the half empty bottle of beer he’d found in the very back of the fridge. He thanked himself silently for having left it there the last time he’d come back to the mansion. Beer had been one of the few items essential in his day-to-day life. No matter where he took residence. Addiction? No. Just a sense of consistency with something. It reminded him of a time he couldn’t necessarily put his finger on, with amnesia and all. But it felt like something he’d always done. Even with the nagging of Charles about his “No Drinking” policy.

Logan broke the silence with an annoyed grumble of “This movie’s bull.” To which you gasped in dramatic horror. It made Logan’s head snap your direction, unsure of what the hell he’d done to set off that reaction. As he met your eyes, he was relieved to see the playful smirk on your face. Obviously playing up your surprise, but you looked offended nonetheless.

“You don’t like Little Women?” Your eyebrows knit together. Your hand laid flat on your chest in a manner that made him snort a very brief laugh while he placed his beer back on the coffee table in front of him. He liked that you made him laugh. And it was never forced, he wasn’t the type to fake something to spare another person’s feelings. He gradually switched his attention between you and the movie, folding his arms and relaxing back into the sofa with a huff. “Jus’ ain’t gettin’ the point.”

You all but exaggerated an eye roll, which made him smirk all the wider. You scoffed, responding in the most matter-of-fact tone he’d ever heard. “The point, Logan, is to show the lives of these people. How they went from girls to women. It’s empowering. And that doesn’t even begin to explain the majority of the movie.” You explained, which had succeeded in intriguing him, though he tried not to show it. He followed, rolling his eyes in the same exaggerated way you’d done, and scoffed to himself.

“Empowerin’ my ass. I still don’t get it.”

You groaned in mock annoyance, but you actually enjoyed telling him these things. You loved when you could banter and your counterpart could keep up. And you loved even more that he let you talk, and he asked intelligent questions. He was a great listener. Even if you didn't necessarily realize it was because you were someone worth listening to.

It goes without saying that the majority of that night involved explaining the plot of Little Women to Logan. And him finding he did like the movie, after you’d talked him through it of course.

Though, he may have only liked it because you looked so happy to talk about it.

It was well past 4 A.M. when you and Logan had simultaneously decided it was about time to go your separate ways and attempt to sleep. You’d highly doubted that you’d get any type of beneficial rest at this point, but you were willing to at least try.

Your more frequent yawns and half-lidded eyes were a distinct indicator to Logan that you were ready to break off and head to bed. But, on the contrary, you were hesitant to end this- thing. Whatever it was. You really enjoyed his company, and he, yours. There was no need for deep talks, no pressure on gauging the other person’s thoughts, just getting to know each other on the most basic of levels. It was refreshing.

After he- reluctantly- admitted to liking the movie, you continued to speak about everything and nothing. The conversation ranged from music taste, to books, to debating over who the best 70’s rock band was, and even sharing the tiniest crumbs of your inside life. By tiny, it was literally nothing more than he already knew. And vice versa.

And while you both didn’t want to admit it, you felt yourselves craving to know each other on a deeper level.

Logan, always and forever being the gentleman, insisted on escorting you to your room. The gesture was nothing but innocent. And a way to spend more time around you. It was pretty late- or really early, after all. He cared for your safety, as he did everyone’s. He tried to rationalize with himself that that was the reason he’d offered.

Maybe part of him also wanted to know where you stayed.

Much to his disappointment, his room was on a completely different floor. Maybe he’d see if someone wants to switch with him. You guys could end up being good friends, what’s the harm? What if you’d needed something in the middle of the night?

He would, however, keep those thoughts to himself. He was a bit obsessive, maybe a hint of possessive, but all in good conscience. He did have some animalistic tendencies after all. Who could blame him? Your presence was intoxicating. He was addicted to your laugh, your voice, your scent, just- you.

“‘Night, sweetheart,” He placed a hand on the doorframe, a small distance from where you stood in the doorway. You smiled ever so delightfully upwards. Eyeing his towering figure in front of you. You found the man- who not even 72 hours ago you thought to be intimidating and slightly off-putting, now charming and someone you were willing to get to know.

He returned your expression, a hint of a smile dusting over his strong features. The soft look he’d had in his eyes made your heart melt, though you made the excuse that he was just tired. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, right?

No.

The nickname, on the other hand, would have you giggling to yourself once he was out of earshot.

“G’night, Logan. I’ll see you around?” You asked almost casually, but the hope in your tone didn’t pass by his notice. He felt his heart clench involuntarily in his chest, like a damn lovesick fool. He nodded, attempting to play it cool. He couldn’t have you know you were the first person his heart raced at the idea of seeing again since he’d lived in that god-forsaken place.

“Yeah, see ya ‘round.” His voice was soft, saying your name. But rough in a sense of a serene thunderstorm. The type of sound that could lull you to sleep. And you’d let it happen.

You quietly stepped backwards into the confines of your room, smiling sleepily as he walked away. You shut the door. Sighing to yourself, and flopped face-first onto your bed. You expected tonight to go so much differently than it did, but you weren’t exactly upset at the outcome. In fact, you were more than giddy he’d caught you leaving earlier. A flutter of something you weren’t quite ready to admit yet crossed your heart and face when the memory popped back into your head.

You attempted to sleep. Which you deemed near impossible after 5 minutes of tossing and turning. Instead, you opted for spending the remainder of the night binging some comedy show on your TV and drifting back to the thought of Logan.

Were you really that down bad already?

He, luckily, wasn’t any better off. The absolute second he left your presence and the hallway where you resided. He all but dragged his feet to his own door. He longed to go back to you. To talk to you, make you laugh. It was a strange feeling, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever known. Which, for having been alive for well over a century, was saying something. He would refuse to speak that into existence. The words would stay locked away in the depths of his soul until further notice. He didn’t want that mess of emotions, despite how drawn he was to you. He knew already that you deserved someone that would be a match for you. Someone sweeter. Someone to rely on, to fall for truly. Someone that doesn’t have as much baggage as a hotel lobby. He didn’t think he could ever be that, for anyone. No matter how hard he may have tried. And he surely couldn’t ruin you like that, you were too heavenly. Too angelic.

Nonetheless, those ideas wavered and he’d had a restful sleep for the first time in years that night.

The gentle call of your name stirred you awake. You fluttered your eyes open the slightest bit.

“Hey,”

You squinted, the sun unforgivingly shone directly into your line of vision. You rubbed your eyes, mumbling incoherently. Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings.

Shit.

You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch earlier in the day.

Seeing as you didn’t sleep a wink last night, your current state made perfect sense.

As you looked around, sleep addled as ever. You noted that you were, in fact, in the living room. Resting on the same couch Logan had been talking to you from the night prior.

Now why the fuck was he your first waking thought?

“Glad you’re back. The hell were you sleepin’ on the couch for, doll?” You snapped your head to the sound of the voice. A wave of nausea hit you as the blood rushed to your head. And lo and behold, it had to be Logan, standing behind your choice of a bed for the day with a concerned furrow of his eyebrows. His voice, however, held a hint of amusement that made you huff a laugh- even having been as exhausted as you were.

You ran a hand through your tousled hair. Surely, you’d have to have looked disheveled. It just had to be him who found you this way. Lucky you.

“I, uh,” You yawned, in spite of the hard nap you’d just taken. Kneading your closed eyelids with your knuckles. You scrunched your nose and blinked up at him. Caught completely off guard with the way he was looking at you.

He found it adorable.

“Didn’t sleep last night, guess I did here. Is it still Tuesday?” You wondered aloud, which made Logan chuckle deeply. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.

“Still Tuesday. What’d ya stay up for?” He spoke as moved from behind the couch and sat on the other side of it. You pulled your legs into yourself to make room for him, as you were just fully taking up the space a moment before. He would’ve been fine had you stayed in that position. Much to his surprise since he’d hated physical contact.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrug, your vague response made his amused smirk slightly drop from his face. He leaned back with narrow eyes, giving you that familiar look. The one that made it seem like he was trying to read your mind. It made you nearly crack a smile. Was he really that concerned?

“’S real vague, darlin.”

To which you laughed softly in response. Lowering your head back on the armrest to look at the ceiling. The relaxed smile on your face was unwavering, guess that just reflected your emotions around him.

“Well.. I wasn’t going to blame anyone,” You started, making Logan raise an eyebrow in amusement. The sight made your stomach flip. Somehow every expression he’d made only enhanced his attractiveness.

“But, someone kept me up all night talking.” You finished, nudging his thigh playfully with your foot. You weren’t entirely sure what made you so willing to act in such a way. But he didn’t feel like a stranger, and you took that as an invitation. Logan, with his quick reflexes, caught your ankle. Making you breathe out a small gasp followed by your radiant smile. He then tightened his grip ever so slightly, noting that you didn’t attempt to pull away.

“That so?” He taunted in return, the playful back and forth turning into something more. Something charged, unspoken. The tension between you both was clear.

“Mhm,” Was all you could reply, through the fit of laughter you were desperately trying to suppress with a tight-lipped smile. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, only to be met with an even stronger hold on your poor ankle. He was still gentle, not on any mission to hurt you. Ever. He had unbelievable strength, that much was obvious by his toned muscles that were unnoticeable. The way his large, calloused hand completely engulfed your ankle had your mind- and heart, thudding out of your chest.

He could hear it, too. It only stirred him on more.

He practically dragged you towards him, his own boisterous chuckle added to your light giggling. A symphony that was more beautiful than the pearly gates of heaven themselves.

Whilst caught up in your play-fighting, if you could even call it that. More or less a battle you were bound to lose. You’d failed to notice the figure that was lurking in the hallway.

Jean had heard Logan’s laugh, a very rare one at that, from down the hall. Not to mention the way your own mind was screaming with unexpressed affection. A sentiment that was sure to bubble to the surface at some point, though you forced it into your subconscious.

Jean walked with a stride so light that even Logan with his sharp senses couldn’t pick up the faint click of her heels. She stopped abruptly when she caught a glimpse of the scene in front of her. It made her stomach churn with a sickening jealousy. So this had been why he disregarded her that easily. The reminder of her sour exchange with Logan only added fuel to the fire. She’d been dwelling on it for days. It was an unfamiliar territory, the lack of two men’s attention. The constant chase and the way she’d had him wrapped around her finger.

Logan was so caught up in that moment with you that he couldn’t even pay attention to his surroundings. That of which included the unmistakable scent of Jean’s floral perfume. The smell was pungent, often overwhelming to the average person. Let alone someone who could find things like that from miles away. Logan ignored it all those times for the sake of being around her. It wasn’t impossible, not when he found her being there otherwise entertaining. Or comforting. He wasn’t sure.

But now, seated next to you. So intensely captured by what you offered. He wouldn’t dare to compare you to her. He’d realized then that Jean never gave him comfort. What he felt around her was never comfortable, this was.

Nothing had ever come so easily to him, never in his life.

Jean, opposed to whatever you two had been feeling, had used his distraction to take advantage of him. Prying around in his head for a nanosecond. He was unbelievably sensitive to that type of thing, she knew better than to try something like that. But she just wanted an idea of what was going on. Evidently unhappy with what she found, she shut the investigation down immediately.

She masked her frustration with somewhat contentedness, purposefully interrupting the pure exchange happening between you and Logan. With a smile, that is.

“Having fun?” She asked from behind the couch, where Logan was before moving to be closer to you. Her voice was saccharin, laced with hostility. Logan’s smile instantly dropped at the recognition of her voice. With a clear expression of agitation, he silently let go of you. At the loss of contact, you readjusted yourself, trying to regain your composure as well as possible.

The very obvious red flush on your cheeks made it difficult.

“Somethin’ ya need?” Logan questioned with no shot at patience, he knew Jean all too well. Yet, he was in no rush to jump back into her good graces. Which was unlike his former need to please her. He used to be by her side at the drop of a hat, ready to give or do anything for her to give him a fighting chance. He had realized it was a lost cause long before she’d caught on, clearly.

“Professor wants you.” She stated, with a pointed look in her eyes as she averted her gaze to you. You stood up, collecting your bearings briskly with a bewildered look on your face. Jean simply shrugged, a half-hearted effort to seem clueless. Though Logan’s glare towards her was unforgettable.

If looks could kill. You thought.

You then excused yourself quietly, but with grace. You weren’t scared of the professor, and you sure as shit weren’t scared of Jean. Her ulterior motives meant nothing to you. You and her never had been more than acquaintances. You were civil with her as she was with you, and that was the extent of your relationship.

Logan’s eyes followed your figure desperately. His body deflated as you retreated from the room. Your warm nature replaced with a chill. He swore the room lost its color when you left, and he’d hoped you were as disappointed as he was for being interrupted.

He shot to his feet when he was sure you were out of earshot. His problems with Jean began long before he knew you. He was well-aware you weren’t to blame for any of this, and he was intent on making sure you found out about their history on his terms. Not through any of Jean’s petty antics.

“Logan, wait.” She pleaded, her voice much less harsh. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with an exasperated breath. His knuckles turned white with the clench of his fists.

“What,” He turned slowly, his strong eye contact making Jean wince. They both knew what she was doing, and Logan, most of all, knew damn well he wasn’t about to let that go. He could hold a grudge. And in this case, he had every right to.

“Y’know what, no. I don’t got any time for this.” He waved her off as he decided he wasn’t in the mood for her groveling. Without a second glance, he left her to stand alone in the living room. His frustration was evident, his anger resurfaced. Damn her for ruining the little slice of happiness he’d gotten.

He was sick of it. Beyond through with the immaturity of her actions. Every memory came flooding back. Each thing he’d let go with an excuse. Every time he apologized for something she had been at fault for. He-

“Hey! Wait.” He sighed when he heard a breathless voice moving in his direction. Exasperated, he shifted to see who needed his attention now.

Suddenly, the cloud above his head dissolved into the sky and the gentle gaze returned to his eyes.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

“Professor didn’t need much, figured we weren’t done talking.” You caught up to him, slightly red in the face and still attempting to catch your breath. And he found you beautiful. Even more so, in earnest.

“If you want to hang around me, that is.” You finished, a teasing way of hiding the regret you’d felt for the rambling you’d just tortured him with. He simply looked at you, tracing every detail of your face. Committing you to memory. You had to be an angel. A sweet temptation sent there to ruin him.

You were unable to decipher what the hell the man was thinking due to the fact that he hadn’t spoken yet. Maybe you came off as desperate, you did run back here to find him, anyways. Oh fuck, what if-

“‘Course I do, sweetheart. Nowhere I’d rather be, if ‘m bein’ honest.”

He’d fallen into step with you easily, his reply caused your lips to break into the most shit-eating grin. You’d be embarrassed, if only he wasn’t looking at you in the way he was. Like you’d just given him the fucking moon.

Hell, you already felt more important to him than you’d ever felt to anyone in your life.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x you

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starrycassi · 1 day ago

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Zaunite Sign Language

We see in the show that touching foreheads with one another seems to be a very intimate thing to do for Zaunites. It is not necessarily romantic, but signals to a deep, strong bond between those who do it. Well, since Zaun was clearly a mining town, I think this habit comes from those times. We also see Felicia putting her fingers to her forehead as a way to greet her children, which could just be coincidence but I am insane and refuse to believe that coincidences exist in this show.

I think that, as deeply clothed as miners have to always be, letting someone else touch your forehead and general face eventually became a sign of intimacy between them, since it was one of the completely exposed areas of the body. Now, I know we see young Vander and Silco with not-so covering clothes (edit: yeah they put on those big ass coats. for some reason I forgot while writing this lol), but I’m being a bit more realistic here. I have family that lives somewhat close to Mina del Limón, which is a mining site here in Nicaragua, and people usually try to cover themselves up to avoid getting dirt directly on the skin, since a lot of the times this not only gets them dirty but ends up in mean rashes or other sorts of skin infections, depending on what layer of soil they’re working on at the moment.

All of this to say: I think Zaunites have a lot of signs that involve touching your forehead and involve only one (the other one usually busy with a tool or doing something else), since the noise in the mines would make spoken communication difficult and you can not just stop and walk over to someone in the middle of an excavation and signaling on other parts of your clothes would be harder to see if your hands are covered with soot, since their main light source would come from the helmets, ergo: their forehead/face would be the best illuminated part of their bodies. I headcanon things like touching up their index and pointer finger to their foreheads to then flick them up would mean things like “I’ve got you”, dragging their finger across their entire forehead “This is over/We can leave”, dragging their fingers from top pf forehead to tip of nose would be “I’m down/Can’t keep going/Help me/I need assistance” and so on. In a lot of circumstances where normal communication is stunted, languages tend to develop in other ways (like the Silbo Gomero, a whistled language in Canary Islands developed due to the distances)

I also think that, eventually, this evolved in Zaunite Sign Language (in a similar way to how Nicaraguan Sign Language evolved), which is what I personally Isha as being able to speak. I think almost everyone would know the very basic signs, since their parents teach them before they start going to work (and we see a lot of children working, so, very early) and these children would eventually teach their peers, even the ones that don’t work on the mines, so it’s a fairly widespread way to communicate. Add to this the time after the revolution, where a lot of miners would surely need to go into hiding for a time if they survived, or even before that, when they were planning and could not risk people hearing them — those would be circumstances that would surely foster and improve these signs!

I don’t know, I just really like linguistics and am a huge sucker for the development of cultural communication methods. Does this make any sense. Does any care. Should I expand on this. I mean I probably will because this blog has become a warped version of my journal but I still have to ask. To be polite.

#arcane au #jinx arcane #vi arcane #arcane #jayce talis #viktor Arcane #imagine jayce and cait slowly picking up on the signs and imitating/obeying them #oooooouuuuggghhhhh their partners so in love when they catch on what's happening #jinx and ekko doing a quick “I love you” (drawing a circle in the middle of the forehead then pointing to each other)#jinx going “I need help” in sign because saying it out loud feels to tiresome #ekko arcane #timebomb #jayvik #caitvi

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 10 hours ago

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I'm very skeptical about Charles just giving Tom PB a title - to me it would suggest Tom is Charles' natural son, which is not the sort of implication anybody with sense would want.

I think the PBs are the new Andrew/Fawcett: they want to appear close to the throne, so they can sell access to Charles on the down low. Upper class grift.

About the Midds, what I find curious is that there is no PR about George or Charlotte or Louis being close with their cousins... So I think the whole clan has been sidelined for now, with just grandparents Carole and Mike, retired with no business interests to profit on, making the occasional appearance.

William is very careful to avoid any suggestion of allowing his inner circle to profit from the connection. It works to keep Harry away, and it will repair the credibility damage done by Andrew and "cash for honours" Charles, in time.

I mean, it's definitely a concern, but I don't think it's that big a deal. As far as I'm aware, no one thinks Tom is Charles's son. (For me, Tom looks way too much like Andrew PB for his paternity to be in question, but I know that looks can be subjective.) So a lower-ranking title like a lordship or a barony or a knighthood - the same kind of title that normal people get for extraordinary accomplishments - probably won't give anyone pause. (I mean, yes, we'll definitely side-eye it, but I don't think anyone will be questioning Tom's paternity.)

Again, I want to reiterate that I don't think it's likely that the PB kids will get titles because there are certain people who would block it, but I do feel that Charles has some kind of desire to recognize his stepchildren because it would make Camilla happy and it would reward her, especially after this year of being by his side during his cancer treatments and (if you believe her friends) suffering through Australia.

I don't think the extended Middleton family has been sidelined. Pippa, Alizee, and the Jameses routinely and regularly show up in the royal sphere - they were at the carol service, the coronation, and the Platinum Jubilee. We don't hear about Pippa's and James' children in context with the Wales kids because they're private citizens and minors - in other words, there's no story and no information to share, and the parents aren't trotting those kids out for papwalks (Pippa's kids have blurred faces these days in pap photos, which means the photos were taken without parental consent). And the Waleses haven't attended public events with their MIddleton cousins where we could see them interact - unlike with their Windsor cousins, where we've seen them all playing at polo, on the Trooping balcony, and at the jubilee/coronation concerts.

I mean, we never saw William and Harry hanging out with their Spencer cousins when they were small, but that doesn't mean they didn't have a relationship. It just means we didn't see them hanging out in public.

#titles #waleses #brf #middletons

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thequietkid-moonie · 3 days ago

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Hi hi, i wanted to request dadzawa. Maybe he has a daughter that ends up with a weird or terminal illness please. 🌻

His child has a terminal illness

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Aizawa ]

[ My hero academia / Boku no hero academia ]

Where are you going so angsty? ~ Hehe sorry, I may or may not cried a little because of this but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoyed writing it! Thanks for your request <3

Also, anon please remember that i only write for gender neutral! I don't want to make anyone feel left behind!

Aizawa is an incredibly busy man, he is not only a pro hero but also a teacher and yet he tries his best to also be a good father, no matter how he ended up having a family on his own he is not planning to neglect you in any way

Aizawa has done everything he could in order to protect you, from keeping you away from the public eye and making a good support network to make sure you know how to act if you ever find yourself in danger, Aizawa hopes that you will grow safe and happy, is one of his biggest wishes thats why even if he hates the idea of you getting in danger he keeps his feets on earth and makes sure you know what to do if you need to protect yourself

Aizawa may not be direct when showing his care and love but he makes sure you never forget that he loves you incondicionally, thats why he is always looking after you even when he is so busy

Getting to know that you have a illness that would lead you to decease can happen by diferent ways depending if there is any symptoms or if those are dificult to notice, even when if he tries to don't let important things like your health slip from his care there still a posibility that is an illness that simply cant be cured and just can be treated no matter how fast you are to find out

From one side Aizawa looks almost unperturbed by the news, he seems to take it so calm and even talk about what it can be done for you now with the medics in a surprisingly calm way, he acts like the caring and a little strict father he have always being, but in the other side he is completely devastated, he is a hero and yet he can't do anything to be able to save his own child, he may even reproch himself not noticing the symptoms earlier or even not spendinging as much time as he should had with you, depending in how this illness had grew

As the days pass and you two start to make a new rutine including your new treatment and what you need is when Aizawa will finally be able to relax enough to stop ignoring his own feelings, when it would start to be more obvious how devastated he is to his friends, still he would try to deny and avoid talking about anything for a while until he can't handle it anymore and just understand how important is to share this with the others who are important part of your life too, to his closest friends

No matter how much he feels like breaking from the inside his priority it is you, he makes sure you understand whats going on and what you two can do to make your life as easy and painless as posible until the end (also, it may depend on your age but he will try to be as honest as posible since there is nothing it can be done to stop it lying would be useless, even so he tries to be as gentle as posible while talking about it)

In this moment Aizawa would be too focus on being a pilar for you, he wants to protect you from his own feelings so you don't feel guilty, like a burden or anything like that, even if that means puting a brave face while spending his nights crying until he falls sleep. Still at some point he may just open up to you about his feelings if is necesary but he prefers to keep it to himself

Aizawa start to spend more time with you because he doesn't want to not only leave you alone in this but also because he doesn't want to regret anything when it is too late, so he will try to take it easy in his job and pass more time taking care of you (specially if this illness is making you feel pain or even affecting motor skills)

Aizawa tries to avoid making you feel like some kind of weirdo or phenomenon because of what you are going throught, he doesn't make a big deal out of your sickness and just talk about it the necesary and like it is already part of your new normality, part of your new day by day; as well he makes sure anyone who visits doesn't make a big deal out of it neither (specially his own friends, you probably feels worst than how he can feel and he wants to protect you as much as he can)

No matter how much time he is able to have at your side before the illness finally take your life he doesn't really know if he would even be ready when the times come, but, then again, he keeps those thoughts to himself, no matter how old you are to him it won't be correct to let you see him break down (but will make sure you know how much he will miss you and how much he will always love you)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #dadzawa #x reader #x gn reader #anime x reader #manga x reader

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04thz · 2 days ago

Text

Migraines - an Analogical oneshot

Logan's had issues with migraines for a long time, but never told the other sides about it. During a particularly bad one, Virgil comes to check on him.

Mild TW for mentioned vomit/throwing up - this is based on my own experience with migraines, and I basically always end up puking so Logan does now too lmao

Word count: 2444

Also! Just a quick FYI, I have an AO3 now! This one and the two NaruMitsu fics I made recently have been posted there. Will potentially move my older fics there as well, so in case anyone wants to read more of my writing without having to scroll through the wall of random that is my blog, I am 04thz on there as well. Anyways, enjoy the fluff lol

It was just one of those days. Hardly the first Logan had dealt with, but they never got any easier. He squeezed his eyes shut as another jolt of pain went through his skull and rolled over in bed to face the wall, where less of the light creeping in under the door could reach him. The movement caused a swell of nausea, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths to suppress the urge to vomit, pulling the marine blue duvet up to further cover himself.

God, he hated migraines. Tension headaches weren’t all that uncommon for the logical side, nor were caffeine headaches, but those were usually manageable with water and a couple painkillers, and if nothing else he could at least work through the more subdued pain. Whenever he felt a migraine coming on, that was it for the rest of the day, he would most likely not be getting anything else done until it was over. If he was lucky, the pain would be gone within a few hours and/or after a quick nap, but sometimes – like today – he’d wake up with a dull ache radiating out from one or both temples, which would steadily worsen over the course of the day, until it felt like one side of his head was being repeatedly wacked with a sledgehammer. And as if the throbbing pain weren’t bad enough, it was more often than not accompanied by crippling sensitivity to both light and sound, full-body chills, and such intense nausea it was nearly impossible to move without throwing up.

Logan never told any of the other sides about his problem. Not only did he not want to appear weak, but also as long as he kept up with his work it was unlikely they’d think it odd that he'd stay couped up in his room for a day or two every once in a while; that was hardly unusual for him anyhow. Besides, it’s not like they could help with his predicament, actually there was all likelihood they’d make it worse. When he felt the aura of an oncoming migraine, he’d simply excuse himself from any social situation and bunker down in his room with a water bottle, painkillers, and a large bucket, in case he’d fail to quash the relentless waves of nausea. This time there hadn’t been any social situations to excuse himself from; he never even made it out of bed, much less out of the room. After trying and failing to go back to sleep to avoid the issue all together, he’d simply taken a pill and steeled himself for the dreadful day ahead.

He’d managed to eat a couple bites of the breakfast he summoned for himself, and even done some reading before the gnawing ache became too intense to focus on anything else. But when it came time for lunch, he’d barely gotten the first mouthful down before it violently came back up, along with his breakfast. With throat burning and eyes running, Logan was forced to admit defeat, and he’d spent the next few hours subsisting on small sips of water, while trying to block out what little light seeped into the room and willing the day to just be over already.

It was in this state that Virgil found him that afternoon. The alarm clock on Logan’s nightstand read 17:15 when he heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside. The three quick knocks on the door weren’t loud, but nonetheless agonizing, and Logan had to grit his teeth to suppress a pitiful whimper that threatened to escape his still sore throat.

“L? You in there?”

Logan sighed and tried his best to keep his voice steady.

“Yes, Virge, I’m here. What is it?”

The brief reply had sounded more abrasive than intended, and a minute passed in silence before a hesitant question came through.

“Can I come in?”

Logan took a deep breath and weighed for and against before turning back towards the door.

“Yes, you may, just... please keep your voice down.”

The door was slowly pushed open and Logan had to put his hands up to cover his eyes as the room was suddenly illuminated by the bright light spilling in from the hallway. Virgil stepped into the room, hands buried deeply in the pockets of his hoodie and shoulders pulled up; Logan’s blunt manner had clearly put him a bit on edge. Logan pressed his hands against his face.

“Shut the door, please...”

Virgil used his foot to push the door shut and Logan sighed with relief as the room was once again shrouded in blissful darkness. He lowered his hands and pulled the covers tighter around himself. Virgil leaned against the door, looking at him uncertainly as his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark.

“Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you all day, and you don’t look so good.”, he said quietly.

‘Not so good’ was rather an understatement. Logan had caught glances of himself in mirrors on better days and knew all too well he must look terrible; pale and shivering, hair a mess, eyes hazy, these kinds of days typically made him look like he was half-way to the grave. Not to mention his pajamas – consisting of indigo flannel bottoms and an old, faded Doctor Who t-shirt – were in desperate need of a wash. Reluctantly he reached for his glasses, sliding them on and looking at Virgil tiredly, though he could hardly make out more than a silhouette.

“I have a migraine. Nothing to worry about, just... highly unpleasant.”

The last two words came out as a sigh. Virgil tilted his head, taking a step towards the bed.

“Oh, I see.”

He slowly made his way over, pausing for a second and wrinkling his nose as he was hit by the rancid smell from the bucket on the floor. He looked at Logan, who wearily motioned for him to sit down on the bed. Virgil carefully sat down at the edge of the bed and started fidgeting with the drawstrings on his hoodie. They sat in silence for a while, until Virgil started finding it intolerable and softly spoke up.

“Do you uh... need anything? Like an ice pack or something?”

Logan went to decline the offer, mostly wanting to be left alone, but stopped himself.

“That... would be great actually.”

Virgil nodded, summoning an ice pack and a small towel, handing them to Logan.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

He gingerly placed his glasses back on the nightstand before laying the towel over his forehead and placing the ice pack on the side of his head that was throbbing the worst. He exhaled slowly, finally feeling some blessed relief as the chill of the ice somewhat dulled the burning pain. Virgil watched him, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Did that help?”

Logan nodded ever so slightly, gently shutting his eyes underneath the towel.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Virgil looked around, having no problem seeing in the very faint light from the door, though he’d know the room like the back of his hand even if he couldn’t see it. Out of all the other sides’ rooms, Logan’s was probably the one the anxious side had spent the most time in. If he’d had a nightmare or just couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t unusual for him to make his way over, and Logan was typically happy enough to let him in. For all he harped on about circadian rhythms and healthy sleep schedules, it was not uncommon to find the logical side sitting by his desk or reading late into the night. Sometimes, if he was feeling especially anxious, like after a bad nightmare, Virgil would ask Logan to read aloud to him from whatever book he was currently working his way through. Many nights he’d fallen asleep listening to various detective stories and scientific theories, curled up under the large, galaxy print blanket on Logan’s bed. Logan was a constant, a steady presence in Virgil’s life, even more so than the other sides, and seeing the normally - at least outwardly- unshakeable man in his current state was honestly a bit unnerving.

“... Do you get migraines like this often?” Virgil asked softly, turning to look at Logan’s half-covered face.

“Once or twice a month at most. They aren’t always this bad.” Logan replied tiredly.

The anxious side chuckled quietly, mostly to himself.

“Just bad luck today huh?”

He could just about make out the slight movement of Logan furrowing his brows under the towel.

“Wouldn’t call it ‘bad luck’ exactly. I have admittedly exceeded my own limitations by quite a large margin over the past couple weeks, it’s hardly surprising it would end like this.”

Logan wasn’t sure if it was the pain, the drowsiness or just the fact that it happened to be Virgil sitting on the bed with him that made him inclined to share “unfavorable” information like that so freely, but he had to confess it was rather nice to not keep it all to himself for once. He was aware he was working on an unsustainable schedule, despite his best efforts to keep Thomas and his fellow sides from doing the same, and it felt – yes, felt – good to say so out loud. Like giving the thought some sort of external presence was a step in the right direction towards amending the issue. Virgil returned to fidgeting with his hoodie strings, watching Logan’s chest slowly rise and fall for what seemed like an eternally long minute before breaking the silence:

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself?” he said, concern apparent in his voice.

Logan sighed and moved the ice pack slightly to the left, before he let his hand fall to his side

“I suppose not, no. There’s been so much work to do lately, everything else sort of got left by the wayside, so to speak.”

“L, you can’t do that. You have needs too, you can’t just work and work and ignore them. That’s not healthy.”

Virgil moved a bit closer to Logan, turning his body so his knee just barely touched Logan’s outer calf. The latter shifted slightly, somewhat unused to physical contact of any sort.

“I know that, Virge. I am trying to find a better balance, but it’s easier said than done.”

Virgil placed a hand on Logan’s knee, resting it lightly so that the other man may move away from his touch if he so pleased. Logan didn’t move his leg away, instead he slowly lifted a corner of the towel off his face, looking at Virgil questioningly, though the anxious side knew he probably couldn’t actually see him in the dark and without his glasses. Virgil bit his lip softly and ran the fingers of his free hand through his bangs.

“I care about you, Logan. I know you hate the feelingsy stuff and all, but I really care about you, and I don’t want you pushing yourself like that. I’m worried about you, dude.”

Logan drew in a breath, slightly taken aback. Virgil usually wasn’t much more forward about this sort of thing than himself. And that word; Worried. Virgil was worried about him. He noticed that Logan didn’t leave his room that day, he cared enough to come check on him and at least attempt to help with his splitting headache. None of the others typically even noticed he wasn’t present unless it happened to be for an extended period of time. As much as he hated to admit it, that hurt, and the fact that Virgil had sought him out and expressed concern for his wellbeing meant more to him than he knew how to properly verbalize.

“Thank you, Virgil. I... appreciate that.” was all he could muster up through suddenly knotted vocal cords.

Virgil gently rubbed Logan’s knee. There was, as always, an implicit understanding between them. Even if Logan didn’t know how to say it, Virgil understood that his concern was important to him.

“I mean it. Just... I’m here for you, okay? You can always talk to me if something’s going on.”

He was half expecting the conversation to be over at that point, and was just about to leave Logan alone to sleep off his headache, when the logical side spoke up again:

“Virge? Could you maybe... read to me?”

Virgil stopped in the middle of getting up, sinking back down on the mattress. Logan shifted the towel back over his eyes and continued:

“I was reading Murder on the Orient Express earlier, but I didn’t get past the first few chapters before my migraine got the better of me.”

Virgil smirked playfully.

“Again? Don’t you have it memorized by now?”

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes despite the agony it caused.

“I am too tired for musical references right now.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

Virgil snickered and reached for the book on the nightstand.

“Can I lie down?”

Logan nodded ever so slightly, and Virgil carefully nestled himself in between him and the wall, leafing through the book until he came across the ornate bookmark Roman had gotten for Logan’s appreciation day a few years previous. He smiled; half convinced Logan would have gotten rid of it by now. He cleared his throat and began reading. Though he wasn’t as big a fan as Logan, Virgil did enjoy Agatha Christie’s writing, having heard both Murder on the Orient Express and a couple of her other books read out multiple times, and he did find some pleasure in being able to return the favor after being read to restful sleep so many times. A few chapters in, he glanced over at Logan and noticed that he’d drifted off. He put the bookmark in place and carefully returned the book to its spot on the nightstand before removing the thawing ice pack and wrapping it up in the towel. Propping himself up on his elbow, Virgil watched his companion’s relaxed face with an adoring smile, and soon found himself dozing off to the slow, almost hypnotic rhythm of his breathing.

When Logan woke up in the morning, finally free of the excruciating migraine, and found Virgil sleeping with his hand resting on Logan’s chest, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Careful not to wake the other man, he got out of bed and put on his glasses. Before leaving for a much-needed shower, he made sure to tuck Virgil in properly and – much to his own surprise – gently stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Virgil smiled contently in his sleep, and Logan quietly left the room with a warm, pleasant feeling in his chest.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides ships #ts analogical #analogical fanfiction #analogical fluff #analogical hurt/comfort #logan x virgil #tss fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #not beta read

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