#since this is relatively shortly after maybe like a few weeks

[hellonexrth]

001. heath & asher - flashback @mccncreatures

His eyes flew open with a gasp that felt wretched from his throat and a hacking cough. How much time had gone by? Uncertainty flooded his veins and a sick, gnawing feeling clenched his chest. Every nerve seemed aflame, awake. What happened to him? The last thing he remembered was Ingrid. Ingrid and pain, and then an all-consuming darkness that felt like peace. Nice and warm before being thrust back into suffering in the dark New Orleans alley.

Heath pushed himself off his side, leaning against the bricks. Everything hurt. And there was a hunger there like he'd never felt before. An ache in his mouth, in his joints, every knuckle. He must have looked just as much a wreck as he felt. "Is someone there?" he asked, throat hoarse and voice cracked as he tried to identify where the sound of footsteps came from.

[lookatmysillies]

AREPH Main Facility - Eddy POV

Tallis was brought to the facility shortly after Round 7.

While his companion, the guard, Hayate, was dragged unconscious to the lower high-security floors that Eddy had yet to attain access to, Tallis was immediately transferred to the ICU. Usually, this space was reserved for injured workers, but Tallis was an exception. He was placed in the same bed that Eddy had been vacated from after a long rest and recovery following its near-death encounter with the target Solei. Or... whatever they were now. Eddy wasn't certain. It was still set on the idea that it could save them and bring them home after such a long absence.

While Eddy was slowly integrated back into the field, they lingered in Tallis's room during the long days. At first, they merely observed him; a real Alien Stage contestant, up close! It was a marvel. He was marked for death by his loss against the contestant Daiki with her edgy wit and charm, but AREPH must've had bigger plans.

Maybe they brought Eddy a friend after all this time. They hadn't had a friend for a very long time. Not since... not since him.

Eddy tried not to think too much about Sebastian most days. Some days they allowed themselves to look at his baby pictures and smile and tear up.

Tallis was a lot - well, bigger than Sebastian was, but he worked well as a friend all the same. Eddy clumsily re-braided his hair whenever his braids loosened in his unresponsive state. It checked Tallis's IVs and the bandages on his midsection, one for the first bullet (it definitely got him good, but only pierced the fatty tissue of his side) and another for the second, which had pierced his abdomen. The aliens who tended to Tallis's health joked that Eddy might as well be their boss, seeing as it was there even more than they were.

It read case files to Tallis to stimulate his mind, ate meals in his presence and told him that he would love the pudding from the caf once he woke up, studied his calloused fingers (how did they get so rough?) and gently wiped his face and neck with a wet cloth every now and then to keep him clean. When one day, Tallis was transported to the lower levels where Eddy couldn't go, it was sad to see its new best friend go. Waiting for him to wake up felt like it was taking forever.

When he re-emerged a few weeks later, he was still asleep - kept in a medically induced coma, the doctors told Eddy, for his health. They told him he should wake soon and put him in one of their medical observation rooms. Eddy couldn't braid Tallis's hair anymore, as it had been buzzed sometime when he was gone, but they could resume their usual routine.

Until Tallis did finally wake a few nights after Eddy monitored Round 16 to watch for Aurien and Solei.

And Tallis was not happy.

They got past the initial awkwardness after Tallis threw things at them the night he woke up and spit in their face. Tallis must've realized relatively quickly that he was surrounded by aliens and his best bet was to let the only other human stick around.

He rejected Eddy's friendly gestures for a solid week. He pushed away the warm washcloths and refused to eat much of the food Eddy offered him despite his gaunt, sunken appearance. The only times he addressed Eddy directly (or anyone, really) was to ask questions.

Where am I? The AREPH facility. Where's the facility? I'm so sorry, I can't tell you that! How am I alive? The guard saved you - I'm glad he did, too! Where is he, then? Undergoing treatment in the lower levels, then he'll probably be questioned. Are you going to question me? Soon, yes, we think you might have information pertinent to our investigations.

Tallis's jaw ticked at those words, and Eddy knew he knew what that meant.

Tallis had ties to high-profile figures.

(And that was the only reason he still lived, not because his life had any worth to anyone, but because he had information on the people who really mattered in the eyes of others.)

Which brought them to their first compromise.

Eddy wasn't technically allowed to show Tallis any information regarding Season 39 of Alien Stage. He was supposed to be in the dark.

But it broke Eddy's heart to reject him any information on his friends, Tov and Himei. He cared about them. He had a human connection with them, like Eddy had a human connection with Sebastian once upon a time.

"I'll be your friend if you tell me if they're okay," Tallis said ever so quietly one night from his bed, eyes wide and teary. "Just tell me if they're alive. Tell me how many of my friends are still alive."

And Eddy broke.

"Tov," Eddy whispered in his ear so no sound systems would pick up on it. "Himei, and all the others who won their rounds before you, all but Vera. Khoi." Tallis's eyes fluttered shut. "Lark, Akane, Jae, Lang, and Onyx."

Tallis's throat caught on a harsh swallow. "No Castor?"

Eddy hesitated, wishing not to have to be the one to confirm it.

"No Castor," it murmured, shrinking away when Tallis's face briefly crumpled, a single tear released from his eye. Then he wiped his face with his blanket like a small child might and forced a stoic look upon his face, though his lips still trembled.

"Tell me," Tallis said shakily, "who wins the next row. If you can."

Eddy couldn't turn him down again after that.

"I can."

AREPH had different plans.

Eddy didn't have to tell him one thing, because for Rounds 17 and 21, Tallis was placed on a chair in the observation room with wires and electrodes attached to his head. Eddy and a few others had already taken a few cracks each at getting Tallis to talk about his classmates and he had thus refused.

"Is this necessary?" Eddy whispered to the small alien named Yakun, chewing on the inside of their cheek behind their facemask. Tallis's face was nearly green with sick as the countdown to Tov's round whittled down, his friend about to meet the fate she was destined for either way.

Eddy hoped she won, for Tallis's sake and their own preferences. She was Eddy's favorite contestant. She was radiant.

"It is," Yakun told it. "If he won't tell us about his connections, we'll learn ourselves."

Tallis had already been irritable and jittery since he woke up from his coma. Now, he was downright mercurial as the round progressed live on a projector before him. He shook violently in his seat from the beginning till the end. When Lark hit the floor, he covered his eyes, his mouth moving in what could be some silent prayer. He only removed his hands when the announcer bellowed Tov's name.

Round 21 was worse. Like Round 17, Tallis's friend took the early lead and held it throughout, but also like Round 17, there was a wrench thrown into it. Instead of Lark falling to the ground, it was Himei, forced down by Noora. When Noora started raining punches down on Himei, Tallis, who had already been anxious the whole performance mouthing "something is wrong" promptly burst into silent tears, biting down on his fingers as Himei was hurt. The gunshot piercing Noora's neck almost seemed like a relief to him, making his teeth unclench from his flesh, dark bite marks left in their wake.

Eddy hated it.

That night, Tallis was utterly defeated, pale and shivering. He let Eddy clean his face, or maybe more accurately, he had no energy to resist it. He let them steal an extra blanket from an unoccupied room and put it on Tallis's bed.

Eddy watched over him that night, eyes fixated on his sleeping form, pierced by the familiar ache that came with connection.

Sebastian's pictures felt like they were burning against Eddy's leg where they rested in its pocket.

Not much more than a week later, Himei's long black curls were falling to the floor with each rhythmic snip of the scissors.

Daiki was dead. Himei had outlasted her. She won the stupid fucking game she was playing against herself.

But with every photoshoot and interview that came afterwards deeming Himei a member of the Elite Eight, declaring her better than Daiki, pitting her against Tov whose points count loomed ahead of her, Himei knew the truth.

Every time she glimpsed herself in the mirror and saw her bruised, sore face, she knew the truth.

Every time she laid eyes on Cirrus, whether in a magazine, on a billboard, or at mealtimes, she knew.

She didn't win.

She'd already lost, regardless of the outcome.

The morning of Round 24, she woke with a heavy heart.

She needed to see Tov.

Tagging time! Tov belongs to @ivanttakethis; Daiki belongs to @daiki1k; Sebastian belongs to @sotogalmo; Lark and Noora belong to @kamersona; Cirrus belongs to @cirrusoftheclouds. Everyone else is pretty much mentioned in passing, so I won't tag those people and spam their notifs, lol.

[heyidkyay]

Who can say no to bridezilla? |

Epilogue

Because I couldn't not give them a proper ending.

Summary: With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

--

MATTY POV:

“Now, we’ve all seen it. We’re all talking about it! So, why don’t we just clear the air, hey?”

Matty raised a brow at the interviewer.

Immediately he knew where this question was ultimately headed, but instead of making things easier for all parties involved, he went with the clueless route. Because that was always more fun, wasn’t it? And also, if he lived for anything, then it was annoying the fuck out of the nosy godawful pricks who were constantly so engrossed in his private life. 

“Sorry, mate. Gonna have to be a bit more specific here.”

The interviewer, Josh or something of the like, blinked at him before he casted a glance at the camera and laughed him off awkwardly. 

In all truth, Matty wasn’t the type to bite his tongue (not for a lack of trying, of course, he’d just always had zero filter- something which he liked to blame his mother for) and so it was probably quite easy to tell just how much he didn’t want to be here, in this fucking sauna of a room. 

Christ, was he sweating already? 

With a sigh, he scratched at the side of his cheek in attempt to hide the yawn he’d been fighting off since this shit-show had begun, and waited for the bloke sat opposite to continue on with this tireless charade they all seemed to adopt sooner or later. All, as in, every journalist ever.

It had all grown so tiring, so trivial, by this point in their career. They all just seemed to ask the same thing in one term or another, over and over. What’s your favourite colour? Who’s your celebrity crush? How’s it staying sober? Who’re you currently shagging? 

That last one was something of a hot topic at the minute. For him at least. 

Always him, it seemed. 

See, it’d all started a few months back when the lot of them had taken a good few weeks off so that Hann could have the ‘wedding of his dreams’. Or at least that was how Matty had taken it, having been on something of a roll with the last album and tour, he’d wanted to get a head start on the next now that he was properly off of all the hard stuff. 

But Jamie, their band’s manager, had taken use of his authority and all but demanded the break. 

Put his foot down. Quite literally, in fact- through a glass table of all things during a celebratory night out after the Brits. 

Matty had been rather delighted with the scene, of course, and thus had given Jamie a whistling round of applause, which had died down shortly after only Ross had joined him. Still, it had been a night worthwhile.

Anyway… stories always seemed to get away from him. He sort of had a knack for it, he guessed, going round and round the point. Or maybe he was just showing his age. But yeah, it had all basically begun way back when Hann had finally declared the date of his wedding.

Matty, honestly hadn’t been dreading it- no, not at all. Losing one of his best mates, forever, to a girl of all things. No, he’d been completely fine. Excited for them even!

Almost.

Maybe…

Alright, so he might’ve used every possible opportunity he’d had to avoid the topic at all costs, but previously mentioned girl was also relatively chill, and someone Matty had grown quite fond of in recent years. So he hadn’t been too vocal about his many irrational dwellings and constantly rising panic. Up until that very moment at least.

And Hann… he hadn’t been too happy a chap.

But with the wedding still happening- with or without his blessing, he’d like to iterate- Matty had used up the time and space he’d been ‘gifted’ to work on himself a bit. So he’d fucked off dating and alcohol (the hard stuff at least), took up jiu-jitsu, and decided to slack off social media too for a while. 

Just wanted to keep his circle small in truth. He drunk a bit of wine here and there, and smoked when and where he pleased. 

Because since rehab, he’d actually become something short of a chimney, which was honestly saying something if you’d known him at all before. A cigarette after the most mundane tasks had quickly become an adopted habit of his, alongside the weed which he didn’t have the heart to give up. Because, who the fuck else did it harm in the grand scheme of things?

And that had been that. Up until the point when Ross, the ginormous tosser he was, had gone and cucked up his pretty little bubble of peace by asking who he’d intended to bring along to Hann’s wedding.

Matty had sort of lost it then. Because he’d had. No. Fucking. Clue.

Not after having been out of the game for so long, and having avoided almost every ounce of social interaction that had been tossed his way. 

Plus, there'd been absolutely no way that he was bringing some randomer along to his best mate’s big day. He just wasn’t down with that. And so, like that fucking loser he was, he’d declared that he’d be going stag.

But, Y/s/n, the formidable angel she was (as well as the poor woman of Hann’s decrepit dreams, poor sod), had simply laughed her arse off at him when he’d mentioned it, and point blank told him no. 

Actually, the words she’d used were, ‘There’s no way in fuck-off hell that you, of all people, are turning up stag to my wedding, Matty. I’ll sort it.’

And did she fuck.

Because not too soon after that whole commotion did you fall into the mix. 

Now, Matty had heard tidbits about this faceless girl here and there- you were Y/s/n’s older sister for one, and was almost always busy doing something of the sorts. But you had quickly become a strange puzzle in his incredibly hectic life, someone he knew bits and pieces about but could never quite imagine complete.

Truthfully, the whole thing had honestly been a favour to the both of you at first. You had been in need of someone to throw in front of your mum for a bit (something Matty could relate to- intrusive mother’s were now something of a pastime to him), and he’d just been desperate enough for any kind of date that he’d so happened to agree. Figured it’d be fun, a distraction to take his mind off of losing one of his very best mates. 

Dramatic, he knows, but who cared.

So Hann had sent him your number and it had all sort of spiralled from there. He’d messaged you on a whim, having decided to just get it over and done with, but then you had texted back. And Matty had grown enthralled.

You’d spent that entire first night messaging back and forth. And then the night after that, and the one after that, and so on. 

Days had rapidly turned to weeks, and weeks into months. And before either of you had even realised it, the big day had finally arrived.

And honestly? Matty had been fucking bricking himself.

That morning especially, but also the entire week prior, too.

Just ask Ross and George- he’d been an utter mess. 

Such a fucking nutcase in fact that George had actually blocked his number and flat out refused to answer his front door. 

Ross had been a true friend in his time of need though, but mainly because he’d just been pleased to have someone to shit all over and rip to bits. He was a vindictive little fucker at the best of times, and supposedly found immense pleasure in Matty’s obvious suffering.

So yeah, he’d been anxious about it alright, more than just that to be honest, but surprisingly he hadn’t been able find an actual word to describe what he’d truly been feeling.

Even thinking back to it now had his stomach all tied up in knots.

It was almost a little dizzying to see the complete turn around he’d made of it since then, even with everything that had occurred that evening. Because it was him we were talking about here, and so of course he’d been the first to cock things up.

Still, it had all worked out in the end. Hadn’t it? 

And here he now was, sat on this arse-aching chair, being asked a question all about you.

“The pictures, Matty! We’re all dying to know more. Twitter is, quite literally, imploding!”

Ah, the pictures…

Pap shots, more like. Fucking pricks the lot of them.

But they were all out there now. For everyone to see. And they’d only doubled in recent weeks after the news of baby Hann had broken and that dildo had gone into hiding. They all wanted to know about her, about the girl who’d been a complete constant in his life. The girl he’d been orbiting like the fucking sun.

And perhaps if it hadn’t been him they were all gossiping about, he might’ve wanted to know a bit more about it all too, because it was just human nature, he figured. To want- even after the most insignificant things. It was just something everybody appeared to find oddly intriguing.

So he could understand it, see?

At least from a fan’s perspective he could- the media too, if he was being technical. But it honestly had begun to grate on him a little. He hadn’t wanted to hide you away from this part of his life, it wasn’t like that at all in actuality. He’d just wanted you to himself for a little bit longer. To ignore the rest of the world so that he could learn everything there was to know about you.

But shit happened and life never gave you exactly what you were after, did it? Not in the ways you expected, at least.

“Come on, you can tell us…” James then goaded- or had it been Jack? Matty frowned. Either way, he wasn’t too attached.

“Yeah, I could, mate. But question is, do I really want to?” Matty countered, forefinger pressed against the corner of his mouth whilst he smirked unashamedly at the reporter.

The guy, bless him, really did seem to be trying. He wanted his big break, Matty could tell, and a story like this could probably get him just that. 

But. 

Matty was an insufferable twat at the best of times, and he wasn’t one to turn down a game of fun. Especially not after the rollercoaster of a day he’d had.

“I think it’d be good, for you, for your fans, to let everyone in on the big secret, don't you?” Jim- yeah, that’s what he was going with- encouraged him, and Matty had to struggle not to roll his eyes. “So who is she? This girl you’ve been spotted with.”

“Don’t know about you, but I talk to a lot of women on the daily. Get pictured with a fair few too, hard to keep track, you know?”

Jim’s smile tightened and Matty felt his own fall into something a bit more genuine. Ah, he was going to enjoy this.

“Come on, Matty.” And fuck did he hate the way Jim said his name. There were two fucking t’s in there, for Christ’s sake. But this tit of a saucepan kept making it sound as though it had been shortened from Madeleine or some sort. 

‘Maddy. Maddy.’ What was he, an eighty year old woman?

“We’re all friends here! Your fanbase have been making a few fair assumptions, some even recognising her.”

Matty’s brow quirked at that. “Oh, yeah? Fill me in then, Jimbo.”

The interviewer’s forehead wrinkled in slight confusion at the name he'd been dubbed, before he hastily continued on, believing himself to be finally getting somewhere.

“Well, she just keeps popping up everywhere! We’ve seen her out with you, in London, and New York, here in LA. People are beginning to suspect that she’s the one we’ve all been hearing in the background of your Instagram stories, and on your lives.” Jim explained, and he was a very gesticulative man, Matty noted. 

He was almost a little fearful that he was about to get slapped in the face by one of his wayward hands.

“And most of all, I’ve discovered that quite a lot of your band’s fans make quite the detectives. They’ve all rallied and decided that you met this mystery girl at Adam, the bands guitarist’s wedding earlier this year.”

“How’ve they deducted this then?” Matty found himself asking, a tad invested now.

Jim seemed to beam at him then and Matty found himself regretting this whole thing. Fuck Jamie, and fuck the guys. Why was it always him doing these shitty fucking interviews whilst everyone else got to sit at home on their arses?

He had a thousand other things he could’ve been doing in that very moment- most of them included you.

“I’m actually glad you asked.” Jim barrelled on, and Matty had almost forgotten he was there, too caught up in his own head. “On one of the announcement posts referring to your band’s newest edition, expected early next year, there was a user who had commented.”

Ah. How sagacious.

Matty was almost a little disappointed with that final deduction though- he’d expected more. Like a super secret stakeout. Or one of their fans behind bars after having hacked into the Secret Intelligence database, or fuck knows, Scotland Yard even. But nah, you’d only just gone and left a sodding comment on your sister’s baby post.

“Reckon there was a half a million comments there, mate.” Matty drawled, clucking his tongue ever so slightly. “Like, I was honestly hoping to get some lawyers involved here, break someone out of prison, or at the very least hear a more promising tale. I mean, a comment. Really?”

Good old Jim just seemed to find his reply hilarious though, and appeared rather thrilled that he’d finally managed to wrangle more than a few syllables out of him.

“I’m sure you have more than enough excitement going on in your life!” Jim conducted, chuckling away to himself. Matty forced a sarky sort of smile. “So can you either confirm, or deny, that the woman you’ve been spotted with, as of recent, is a bandmate’s sister?”

Matty stopped short, then gave a boisterous laugh. One knee jilting up off the floor slightly as he threw his head back against the back of the chair to just cackle at the bloke. He had to shake his head at it all, in disbelief. “Fuck man, how have you bolloxed that up so bad?”

Interviewer Jim just seemed to frown at him though, torn between obvious confusion and some of the amusement he still felt. He did his best to regroup though.

“What? Are you claiming the rumours to be false then?”

“Oh, I think the boys who have siblings would know better than to let me near any of them.” Matty retorted, still grinning away. “But I’ll leave it up to everyone else, and their incredible skills of deduction, to work it all out.”

Matty glanced away then pointed towards the small crew that had gathered and the camera that’d been set up.

“Suppose we're all done here then?”

Jim blinked at him, jaw swinging.

“Um.” He tried, but Matty was already up, out of his seat and throwing on his jacket. 

He stuck a hand out towards the man as he slipped a pair of dark shades over his eyes, because he could play at being polite. “Cheers for this, mate. Hope everything goes well.”

And then he was gone, having weaved his way through the building's hallways and slipped out through the first side door he'd found. His phone was already in hand by the time he felt the sun beaming down on him and he started smirking to himself as he typed out a text. 

Today 11:59

Georgie: 

World thinks I’m shagging your sister, mate.

Matty couldn’t help his grin, and was quick to drop out of his messages so that he could do exactly what he’d been hoping to do ever since his morning had begun.

His smile was a whole lot more fond when your face popped onto the screen, rubbing at your eyes with a pillowy pout.

“What?”

Matty snorted out an unjustly laugh at the love-filled greeting he'd received whilst he shook his head at you, mindful of the busy street he was crossing.

“What do you mean, what? Why are you asleep, it’s like 8pm your time.”

His chest fucking warmed at the sight of you wrinkling your nose unhappily at him, obviously not too pleased with having been awoken.

“Your point?” You fired back, sighing as you reluctantly sat up in bed, all the way back home in dreary London.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna kick yourself later when you can’t sleep tonight.” Matty mentioned, pausing on a street corner just outside of a trendy little cafe so that he could light a fag. Not caring about the few upturned noses he received in response from passersby and the avant-garde try hards settled on tables outside. LA, man.

“Then that’s my business, isn’t it?” You piped up, drawing his attention back down to his phone.

You’d since tied your hair up into a messy style of bun he typically loved to play with when you were cuddled up together, and sort of let the duvet pool around your hips.

“Besides, it was just a nap- you know how sleepy I get when I have to deal with Y/s/n all day. She’s been on a rampage this week, I swear, so just be happy you’ve not had to deal with any of it. I mean, really, there’s no fucking difference between Fine Dream and Frosted Cream! It’s all just paint to me!”

Matty couldn’t hide his lopsided smile as he listened to you continue your ramble. It had quickly become the most favoured part of his day, whether you were wrapped around one another back at his, or a couple hundred miles apart.

The couple hundred miles though, they had started to grow harder and harder, seeing as he was currently out in LA, whilst you were busy with life and things at home.

Still, he’d be back with you this time tomorrow morning- unbeknownst to you of course. Because he’d planned it to be something of a surprise. He’d been gone three long weeks and knew that the separation had been difficult on you both, seeing as the pair of you had spent practically every day since Hann’s wedding under one another’s feet.

“Anyway,” You sighed, regaining his attention, and Matty watched as you puttered about the kitchen, more than likely preparing yourself a cup of tea. “How did the interview go? Was it that radio thing you were excited for, or was that something else?”

Matty shook his head at the screen, stumping out his cigarette on the brick wall beside him. 

“That’s next week. All of us will be doing it though, so I’m looking forward to it.” He informed you, blowing out the last remaining tendrils of smoke. “But God, you wouldn’t believe this bloke I just met, reckon he could’ve bored me to death with his questions. Same fucking thing, over and over again, I swear. LA used to be so thrilling, but now, it’s all gotten so- I don’t know… Just feels really superficial. Want to be back home.”

“Missing this English weather, are you?”

And he could see the small smile pulling at your lips. Apparently, it had snowed in the time he’d been gone, and because the world just loved to spite him, that meant he’d missed seeing you in it. But he’d witnessed your reaction at the very least, and it had been incredibly endearing to watch you get all excited, even over a Facetime call. Because you’re face had honestly said it all, eyes wide and so fucking alive. It definitely could’ve rivalled any little kid’s.

“Hm,” Matty hummed, tilting his phone so that the Californian sun didn’t cause a glare. “Reckon it might have more to do with me missing a certain someone, to be fair.”

“That so?” You quipped, looking right at him, “Has Ross finally caved and messaged you then? Needy, that one- I'd be careful. You’ve only been apart a couple days. But me? I’ve not had you in three weeks.”

“And it’s been a terrible loss, we’ll have to remedy it once I’m home." Matty said with an assured nod, "Figure I’ll have you in the hallway first.”

Your loud laughter bubbled up through the phone’s speaker and Matty let his eyes slip close in turn, revelling in the sound for a brief second.

“Careful there, Matthew. Never know who could be listening.” You replied with a smirk of your own whilst you stirred milk into a large mug- one Matty immediately recognised as one of his own. The thief. “Besides, I’ll be picking you up from the airport so you’ll have to make do with the backseat of my car.”

He grinned full out upon hearing that, chuckling to himself as he shook his head, deciding to carry on the teasing. “Christ, if anyone's needy, it's you. But I reckon I can deal with that. Just as long as you don’t give yourself a concussion this time ‘round.”

You gasped, shocked. “It wasn’t a concussion, you twat! And you’re the one with the fucking jackrabbit hips! If anyone was at fault, it’s you.”

“Oh, come off it. You love being on top.”

With a roll of your eyes, you sipped carefully at your steaming drink then pointedly shrugged. “Still carried on though, didn’t I? Without any complaints, I might add.”

Matty snorted lightly. “Indeed you did, baby.”

The ring of a doorbell sounded then and he watched as your head turned in its direction, only to then huff.

“That’ll be Jamie. Forgot he was coming over after work tonight.” You told him as you put the mug down and picked up your phone to putter over towards the door.

Matty heard it being opened, as well as the usual greetings often shared between your cousin and you, before a pair of great big eyes were suddenly boring into the screen, startling him slightly, only to then be followed by a matching grin and loud laugh.

“Alright, Healy, the Yanks treating you alright?” Jamie acosted, clearly having stolen your phone from you whilst your defences had been down. He could just make out you rolling your eyes in the background whilst your cousin made himself comfortable in your flat. “Enjoying the sun, eh?”

Either he’d been in LA too long, or he just hadn’t heard Jamie speak in a while, his northern accent sounded so prominent down the phone.

“Always do, Jim.” Matty said, smiling at the bloke who’d splayed himself out across your living room sofa. He withheld the humour he found in his inner musings when he recalled the earlier Jim, to ask after Jamie’s missus, Kate.

Jamie told him that she was doing good, busy with work, but enjoying it all the same. He also mentioned that they were actually thinking about moving in together too, which Matty found surprising but was all for, having been witness to the couple and their love for one another over the last couple of months. They were proper great together, anyone could see it.

And since his and Jamie's big bust up- something Matty had deemed it, even though it had been anything but- during your sister and Hann’s wedding, the two of them had sort of bonded. 

Don’t get him wrong, it had been tense and they’d started out on an awkward-footing, seeing as Jamie was practically more your brother than cousin, as well as the defensive type, but they’d gotten there in the end.

Matty had quickly learned that if he wanted to be with you, then he’d have to get used to Jamie always hanging about too. The pair of you were somewhat of an odd duo. But he found you both entertaining all the same.

“Alright, can I have my boyfriend back now?” Echoed your voice from somewhere off to the side, and then there was a bit of a scuffle before your accomplished grin flashed across his screen. “Hi.” You greeted, somewhat out of breath. Matty merely quirked a brow.

“You alright there, darling?”

“Oh, yeah. Brilliant, thanks.” You panted faintly, waving him off casually before you moved to raise the phone above your head. 

Matty full out cackled then at the sight you’d gifted him, because of course you’d be the one to somehow manage to get the upper hand over your giant of a cousin, only to then sit proudly on his back whilst his face pressed into the cold wooden floor. 

“Fucking class!” Matty laughed and he could actually feel the skin around his eyes tightening at just how hard he was smiling. “Comfy there, Jim?” He couldn’t help but taunt, smiling as the man's reddened face came into view.

“Grand, mate. Cheers.” Jamie huffed in retort, lifting an arm vaguely in the direction of the camera to give him a thumbs up. 

Matty shook his head as the duo continued to bicker, comforted by the fact that it was only hours before he got to see you again, properly this time. 

--

Taglist: @real-actual-human-person @wurldisavampire @partoftheairforce @kurdtbean @indierockgirrl

Check out my other works here

[desceros]

hi! i have a bit of a meta question!

i remember seeing an ask a while ago regarding whether or not bad future symphony donnie or any of the other brothers would have been able to reach out to vchan if she was a hamato spirit after she died, and you had said that raph would have died pretty shortly after vchan did. in chapter 19 when vchan and casey are talking about the future he talks about how he remembered raph dying.

so basically i was just wondering if that meant that casey would have been alive, even if he was very young, at the same time as vchan in the bad future timeline. would she have been like an aunt or mom figure to him, even if he didn’t remember it, that kinda thing!!

or i might just be reading waaaay too deep into it. either way just wanted to ask! hope your day is going swell!!!

sooooooo i can't go into too many specifics on this without spoiling something fun in the future. (<- wearing one of my cardboard halos, cute pose, innocent batting of eyelashes, etc)

i can say that that by "pretty shortly" i meant like, a few years, not like, several weeks. casey has no memories of you from the future. the only knowledge he has of Viola-chan is from the you in the present, and what he knows of future you from stories he was told (mostly by leo).

so. that's the No, Des, I don't Want Any Fucking Spoilers Outside Of The Fic answer. below the cut is the Maybe Some Bread Crumbs Would Be Fun Slash The I Love Symphony Meta Whether It Has An Impact On The Plot Or Not answer

more detailed answer:

it's intentionally ambiguous in the fic when things happened in his life since i like to think casey's age isn't quite... certain. we know, relatively, when they happen, but not absolutely.

cass died when he was barely weaned. you were next, when he was maybe 2-3, 4 at the oldest. next was raph, around which casey was around 7-9; old enough to remember seeing it happen, but young enough that it was probably the first death that really properly affected him. (plus the way it happened right in front of him, and to protect him specifically... it was memorable, we'll say.)

but yeah, unlike the rest of the hamato clan, he doesn't have any memories of you from the future. the only personal connection he had was to the "her" that donnie and leo would sometimes talk about on quiet nights or during particularly bright days, but there was never a name or anything. just. a lot of hurt, and an instinctive knowledge not to bring you up.

...and that's about what i can say without spoiling! so i hope it answered your question :D

[smokinsid]

Late Night People

Summer. 2:15 AM. College of Synergetics, Level 3 – REAPER Lab, Rata Sum.

Enid looked wearily at a crumpled pack of cigarettes, then back at her holo-screen. On her desk, a little girl in a big red hat grinned up at her tired face, looking as bright and proud as the midday sun.

For a few weeks now, her research had been chasing its tail. Relative Extraplanar studies- thrill that they were, giving a scientist cause to go sliding orthogonal to the three-dimensional Tyria into realms unknown- were still a headache, at their core. Was a mortal body meant to move that way, or see those things?

“Yes!” Came a low, sonorous showman’s voice from across the room. The attuned crystal in her radio blinked and pulsed in time with every syllable. “And I’ll tell you what else, my friends- if Balthazar can bite the dust, if Kralkatorrik can kick it- then what is there out there for us to worry about? The Arcane Council keeping secrets, hiding things from us? Well, we know why they do that- the slow dissemination of what they really know is what’s keeping them in their seats, after all.”

Smoke Signals with Sidney Figleaf. Venlin Vale Radio, 103.3 K-R-U-E.

The call letters came to her mind automatically. And that voice- “Smokin’ Sid,” on the radio- was her brother.

They hadn’t talked in a while. Maybe she should call him. It had been a long time since the big blowup, after all- and Rucks had turned out alright so far. Still young enough to come back to college.

“Coming up in the next half-hour, we’ll have open lines here on Smoke Signals. Tune your crystals to 1.333.1033- again that’s 1.333.1033, for the Smoke Signals hotline. Call now and get queued up- the subject tonight? Strange lights in the sky! Stranger than usual, anyway. Have you seen them? Tell us all about it. --And now, a word from our sponsors.”

As a jingle played for Royal Kournan cigars, followed by an ad for Oozeley’s Sure-Fire Detergent, she drummed her fingers on the desk and frowned at the blue-gray little crystal in front of her, mounted in a ring of brass.

“Oozeley’s, Sure-Fire,

Made from the goo you trust,

Oozeley’s, Sure-Fire,

For stains, it is a must!”

It was now or never. She grabbed the little brass ring and rotated the pointed crystal within, spinning it like a dial toward the numbers etched into the metal edge. In seconds she was connected, and a pleasant, modulated golem’s voice greeted her.

“You’ve reached the 103.3, K-R-U-E, call-in hotline! Your queue position is currently... SIX. Please hold. Your call will be on the air shortly. Remember to shut down your radio receiver before speaking, to eliminate static and echo. Thank you for calling Venlin Vale Radio.”

Soft jazz rose from the vibrating surface of the crystal, tickling her ear. She set it down on the table and huffed.

She had plenty of time to hang up if she wanted.

“Subject is mysterious lights in the sky- mysteriouser than usual, I should say. Caller number two, you’re on the air.”

Oh, Alchemy. He’s just picking lines at random.

“Am I on the air with Smokin’ Sid?”

“Yes, that’s me. Please turn off your radio, sir, for the feedback. Now, what’s your name, and what do you have to report?”

“Uh, name’s Putt. Work outta Statics.”

“Ah, a fellow Statics, ahem, alum. Wonderful. And what did you see?”

“Well, this was a couple weeks ago, late one night in Brisban- we were listening to the show while we were on stakeout, watching the bandit gangs drift here and there.”

“Ah, sounds like you’re working a security detail. I’d ask you how things are going with the gangs, but let’s focus on the scene overhead.”

“Right, well- me and the fellas like to shoot skeet to kill time,”

“Careful friend, this is radio,”

“Y’know, like clay pigeons, we got some with glow-in-the-dark paint.”

“Ah.”

“And so I was up top of the watchtower, throwing ‘em here and there when I heard the word ‘pull,’ that kind of thing.”

“Putting some lights in the sky yourself, as it were.”

“Mm- so we’ve done a few rounds of this, and I throw another one, and Creidon- big fella, Lionguard, down at ground level, he puts a crossbow bolt through it, sure as sunrise.”

“But...?”

“It got stuck, Sid.”

“In the... clay pigeon?”

“No- well, not as such. It’s like, it punched through the pigeon and hit something else. Something round. Like... shoot, I’m gonna sound crazy.”

“Not on my show, friend.”

“Like a bubble, in the sky. Like someone got a straw under the sky and blew real hard and just... warped it out. The stars looked all stretched and distorted close to the pigeon, got more normal the further out you went.”

“As if the sky itself was... closer, there?”

“Yeah! Damnedest thing I ever saw! Bowed in like the ceiling on a first-floor dorm when the toilet upstairs overflows.”

“Remarkable.”

“The pigeon- and the bolt- just clung to it. And then it sorta... deflated? Just slowly receding until the sky looked normal again. It took both with it! We never got ‘em back.”

“Wow. Not quite what I expected to hear when it comes to lights in the sky, but that certainly is mysterious. Thank you, Putt- the Smoke Signals Research Team will put some time into this one, I’m sure.”

Enid had already taken a few steps away from the crystal, drawing up astronomical charts of the sky over Brisban and running numerous calculations and simulations. A ‘bubble’ in the sky could be any number of things- in her mind, it was some burdensome patch of mist, pushing on the fabric of Tyria. A mistquake? A mist… sinkhole?

“Caller number… six! You’re live on Smoke Signals. Go ahead and turn off your radio, feedback and all that. I need a name, and- what did you see in the sky, lately?”

“…Could’ve been the movement of a human god, they make quite a dent- haven’t heard from Melandru in a minute, have they?”

“Caller number six? Are you there? –Do turn off your radio, please and thank you, for the feedback, then start with a name.”

“Of course, if it isn’t the movement of a god… can we rule out dragons now? Are they done?” She poked at the holo-screen and flipped through archive files.

“…Enid?”

Enid let out a horrible gasp and slapped her radio, then spun away from the screen and rounded on the crystal.

“—Am I on the air? Shoot, I missed it!”

“No, no, you didn’t miss it. Bit of a rocky start, but I’m feeling generous tonight. Now, ah… name, as I said, and, what exactly did you see?”

“Oh, I’m… Enid. I work here on the third level of Synergetics, and…”

“Enid! I knew it was you! Distinguished listeners, we’re hearing live, the voice of my dear sister. It’s been ages. I’m surprised to hear you saw something ‘weird,’ Nid- you always had a pretty high bar.”

In his smoky studio, Sid was secretly reeling. He leaned away from the microphone and pat a box of Shadhavar Wides against his palm to pack them, then fumbled for a little silver lighter. The etching of a bikini-clad human winked up at him as he struck the wheel and took a long, steadying drag.

“Well… hm. What your first caller said caught my attention, so I was in the middle of researching that.

“The- the Brisban case, with Putt? You jumped on it that quick?”

“While I was on hold.”

“Wow. But, ah… do you have your own sighting to report? Something for the audience to chew on?”

Enid tapped her bottom lip and huffed.

“Well, I don’t want anyone to think too much of this, but I have seen something. About three weeks ago. I was up north- in Grothmar, the Charr territory?”

“Beautiful weather up there. Even the storms are nice.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I was studying post-Kralkatorrik brand radiation- the corruption is persistent, you see, and when you have a steady source like a dragon, that’s to be expected. Without it, the flow should ebb and the radiation should begin to decay. But I think that due to the crystalline structure of the corrupted materials, the magic is finding these facets to bounce around on, conserving angular momentum and-“

“Nid, I love ya, but this is dead air. Lights? Sky? We getting there?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Right. Sid and Sid’s audience. Lowest common denominator.

“It was a symmetrical cymatic response- that is to say, we used our instruments to mess with the cluster of corrupted material on the ground, and were able to have a second team in the mists check their location with identical instruments. We’d make a tone, they’d detect a tone.”

“More of a sound in the sky, but I’m with ya so far. So this krewe, on the other side of the veil, so to speak, they could hear the sound you were making, and… what?”

“Well, that’s the revolutionary thing, Sid. It’s the first time we’ve been able to accurately, linearly map the coordinates of a location in the mists, as it relates to a location in Tyria! By measuring the offset between the two, we were able to calculate that the mists themselves are at an orthogonal angle to standard Tyria- our North is their West!”

“…Fascinating. And the implications are… staggering, I’m sure.”

Her expression flattened and she ran a hand across her face. Lights. In the sky. Right. Let’s get to that before he moves on.

“So this relates to Putt’s bubble, you see. The fact that it welled up at all, how it moved, where it came from- to your listeners’ great satisfaction, we did see lights in the sky that we couldn’t explain. Not a bubble, no- but I theorize we saw the shear between Tyria and the mists. Sending such a direct signal from one to the other had an effect on the boundary between realms… and somebody, we speculate, didn’t appreciate that.”

“Oh. Oh! Hey, that’s juicy, you should have started with that! No flair for the dramatic, this one. So let’s get into that, specifically- what did you see, that gave ya cause to speculate that?”

“At first we thought that we’d kicked up a storm. Cloud-to-cloud lightning, and lots of it. But… I hate to hand it to the humans, especially after the Balthazar thing, but they might be onto something with some of their gods.”

“You saw one?”

“We saw a hand. Specifically, the underside of one. Curling fingers, drawing across the realm-shear, constructed out of lightning. It was vague at first, but as the digits moved, there was no mistaking it.”

“Wild stuff, sis. I wanna take a shot in the dark here, because I know you- I know there’s more at play here than just you seeing something. Did your krewe in the mists see something too?”

“That’s the kicker. They saw the other side of the hand. They thought they were having tech issues, an overloaded crystal somewhere, until screens started blowing out and lightning started leaping everywhere. Had to evacuate their work camp while huge knuckles made of static discharge just sort of… raked through their whole shop, destroying anything they couldn’t carry out. Made a circular motion, seemed to… stir up the mists? Maybe… froth them back up, after we’d thinned them out?”

“Holy crap. Now that’s the kind of mystery I’m talkin’ about! The nature of the human gods, or whatever they are! Why would it do that? Does this mean that gods are making other lights in the sky? Did a god blow Putt’s bubble? We gotta get some humans on the line- they got experts, right? Like, uh… religious… scholars?”

“Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Nid, be nice. We take all kinds here on Smoke Signals. –Speaking of which, our next caller’s been on the line quite some time, waiting for their chance. Boy, but this was a doozy. I’m gonna run a golem down to your lab with my personal number. Maybe the Smoke Signals research team can lend a hand with this, huh? –‘Til next time, though, goodnight!”

“…Yeah, see ya around, Sid.”

“Thank you for calling 103.3, K-R-U-E, Venlin Vale Radio!” A familiar automated voice chimed.  “You have been disconnected! Please wait five minutes before placing another call!”

And then the line went quiet, the crystal dark.

She turned on her radio and returned to the holo-screen.

“—aller number one, you’ve been awfully patient, you must have something reeeeeeally important to share! Turn off your radio and give us your name, if you please.”

As the next caller regaled Sid with tales of a “boat” they saw in the sky as they were hiking in Dzalana, Enid immediately tuned out.

Sid… she really didn’t have any reason to want his respect. In fact, he should be treating a professor of her caliber with a little more deference, when you really looked at the situation from the outside in. But here he was, regionally-famous radio host, urging her to get to the ‘good parts’ of her research and shooing her off the air when he thought she’d said enough.

Why did that cut so deep? As nice as it was to talk, it was painfully one-sided.

She knew he had a good mind. An inquisitive and dutiful mind. He’d volunteered to serve in Orr, after all, and was instrumental in reporting troop movements back to Claw Island over secured channels and providing music to those same troops over unsecured channels, using just deft hands and a junky set of equipment he’d cobbled together.

She was finishing her first doctorate at the time, too young for the Priory to deploy her- and too young for the College of Synergetics to let go of her, besides. When the news came back, she really thought of her older brother as a hero. Silly old Sid, a war reporter.

But maybe he was just a nicotine-stained, slimy, self-serving, cabbage-fucking-

She took a deep breath and shook her head. He had given her a lot of airtime to tell a complicated story, and he was sending along a means to talk privately, finally!

But it was the ‘he had given’ part she took painful umbrage with. How is it that he’s always in charge of these things? Effortlessly, as if it’s his right? There was a real mystery. Lights in the sky are easy to explain compared to that.

She continued to grumble as she prodded at the screen. As the pink holographic text started to blur, she looked away and found herself staring at the framed photo of her daughter, grinning up at her with gap teeth and bright eyes.

“He’s repulsive. Rucks, how did he ever get in your head? If you had focused on your studies, you’d be here in the city with me, instead of…”

She couldn’t remember the name. Some backward human fishing village across the sea.

Enid pulled open a drawer and retrieved a bag of hard candy. It was right next to her cigarettes- Skrittmann’s Menthol Silver Slim 120s. She frowned at the half-full softpack and shut the drawer, then popped a thumb-sized cylinder of blue raspberry into her cheek.

The clock struck 3:00 am, and there was a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” she called out. The interlocking hatch doors slid apart, and a golem stumped into the room, carrying a teal holopad in one hand and a book in the other. She met it halfway and it held its hands up in an oddly childlike fashion, offering both at once.

“This must be the private number, and… what’s this, now?”

She took the book and frowned at the cover, reading aloud in a flat, irritated voice:

“Up In Smoke – One Asura’s Journey from Lowlife to High Life, and How You Can Too.”

Alchemy fucking preserve me, it’s signed.

She scowled at the silver paint-pen signature across the dustcover, and flipped to the first page.

To Spokes- it takes balls the size of honeydews to ride a ten-speed through Malchor’s Leap, and you did it every day. I might have quit radio altogether if you hadn’t brought me those letters from Camp Narthex.

“DEDICATION

To the 113th Ground Artillery Regiment- you guys were a real peach to bivouac with. Sorry about the latrine. You’re welcome for the case of Gorepelt Supreme I found- didn’t take us long to get through those bottles, did it?

To Professor Qlatt, Statics Earthworks Division- sorry I kept putting stuff in my nose, man. I got an attention span you could fit in a teaspoon with room to spare, and you sure were patient. I ain’t coming back, but if you want that homework I owe ya, I eventually filled it out.

To Ma & Pa- I just hope you’re glad I figured out something to do.

And to my sister, Enid. You don’t just make them proud, you make me proud, too. It’s a big ask, but keep achieving for the both of us. When I say you’re Council material, it’s the only time in my life I’ve ever not meant it as an insult.”

Enid swallowed, frowned, and pat the golem on the head, sending it clunking off back into the hall.

“Guess I’ll call him,” she exhaled through her teeth.

“Just… maybe tomorrow.”

She set the book face-down on her workbench and took another deep breath, then turned her eyes back up to the screen.

She’d never admit it, but they both wanted the answer to the same question.

Just what is going on up there, anyway?

[achilleasfury]

Jiggy knows A-Yuan :( attachment

Tell me about this /sticks hands out my enclosure

OKAY SO!!

Honestly, i dont remember where the wen siblings were in canon when Jiggy was in Nightless city, but for fic sake, theyre there now. Wen Yao meets Wen qing, and while there is a lot of mutual suspicion they... get along? Theyre not best friends, but they help each other. Wen Qing shows Yaoyao how he can heal/help his own wounds and pain and also like. Basic biology stuff. That concept has already been there in a few wen yao fics i think?

Anyways i adore the headcanon that Wen yuan is Wen Xus son, so we r sticking with that!

Wen Yao is there for the birth! *waves hand around* he knows the mother (not sure yet if she'll be from the dafan wen or like. Just there.) And has been keeping her company through the last bits of her pregnancy, esp when WQ wasnt there to do it. Since he has thr experience from the brothel in hoth working with pregnant women but also birth? Something like that.

so when A-Yuans mother dies and WX is gone as well, when Wen Yao isnt working/actively doused in blood, he helps take care of A-Yuan and supervises the time WRH spends with his grandson.

So when WRHs state gets insanely bad, Wen yao is the one saying "maybe you should send a-yuan with Wen qing away so nothing happens to them,with all the fighting going on? :(" and WRH agrees!

During the last bit Wen yao doesnt see Wen qing nor a-yuan.

End of sunshot happens, jiggy gets acknowledged, whoop whoop.

[And here i mess with canon even more bc i cant actually remember when wgat event happens lol]

Something? Sets the Jins of earlier/Jin Zixun brings Jiggy with him when he visits the Wen Camp. He arrives shortly after when WN was used as target practice.

this is where the fic actually starts lol i put an exerpt here but this is very much a draft-draft so i'l probably fo "fuck these specific sentences" in like 3 weeks and rewrite it.

// not graphic character death (jin zixun)

>>

He was breathing hard, and not breathing at all at the same time.

His eyes ran wild, trying to make sense of the scene before his eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening.

This, this should not be happening.

The child should not be here. it should be somewhere safe with relatives, all hidden away. It should not be here, face smeared with blood and dirt, holding onto Wen Qionlins dying body.

In his … was it terror? - panic? - distress? - he almost didn't register Wen Qing raising her voice at him, and his cousin - Jin Zixun - screaming something.

When he looked at the two of them, he was almost surprised to find his dagger buried in Jin Zixuns chest.

He was holding the dagger.

Stupid. Why did he do that?

“Yao-gege!”, the child, still clinging onto the, other, dying man, gasped, tears and snot dripping down his face. “You have to help him!

<<

since jiggy does know the Wens pretty well in here, his reluctance to harm innocent/the ones he is attached to, i want to go into the direction of a big inner turmoil between familial piety and "they were the closest thing to an actually real and loving family i ever had"[excluding mama meng. Love her. Gorgoeus woman.]

Also, the even worse not-trust between jiggy and nmj, since well. Wens.

Also im trying to figure out how this situation could actually like. Give 3zun a nudge into healthier dynamics-ish?

Also nmj needs to see jiggy with ANOTHER baby in his arms and have a crisi about it. He deserves it.

Ideally ofc this all would lead to jgs dying early/jiggy being able to let go of him earlier, but, who knows! I sure dont.

I also want to give the lotus trio and jiggy a bit of a more relationship? Since wwx, his attachment to the wens and jiggy and his attachment to a-yuan will like. Kinda bind them tgt and i need yanli to 'take' jiggy in. Theyre great.

I feel like i forhot half of what i wanted to say but im in a anthropology lecture rn and its INTERESTING so ":D

[the-dance-of-italy]

Its more or less a brainstorm of fanlore details for the game im making about actor mark.

It had a been a week since he was released on parole, those seventy years locked up hardly affected him, he still looked as young and handsome as he did that faithful poker night. He decided to return to his manor, as for the reason? was it to pick up whatever belongings hadn't been looted? to properly say goodbye to his parents home? he wasn't sure, but something seemed to pull him back home.

He stepped out of the taxi cab and thanked the driver. He looked around a the front entrance, the gate was falling apart from oxidation, the weeds were overgrown, and it was impossible to get through even a few meters into the property. due to the debris from bricks and wood, not to mention the trash that littered the driveways. He tried his best to go through without damaging his suit and once he was in a relatively open area, he glanced around his family's house. The windows were broken beyond repair, the front door seemed to have been blocked with pieces of wood to prevent people from trespassing. The blocked door didn't stopped him from entering, he obviously knew his own house from top to bottom and quickly managed to find a secret passageway into the manor.

The secret passageway led him to the piano room. He walked towards the chimney and thanked god (did he still believed in god? did he even believed in a god in the first place?)that his parents wedding photo was still there. he pulled it out from the broken frame and kept it in his breast pocket. He turned to the piano in the middle of the room and conjured up an old memory of his childhood. His father was playing the piano while he rehearsed a song for a school play and his mother came into the room carrying a tray of glasses of lemonade for the three of them. When Marc finished practicing with his father, his dad carried him expressing how proud he was that he got the lead role. His mother carried him and also expressed her aspirations of him to become a successful Broadway star in the future.

He felt overwhelmed from his memory and decided to go to the backyard towards the white gazebo. Despite the years, the gazebo had stayed relatively clean and decided to rest for a bit. While heavily overgrown, his mother's garden was still as beautiful as ever, he glanced at the red roses and another memory came to him.

It was early spring, Mark had organized a party with all of his friends to celebrate their graduation, there were many classmate invited, but his main guests were always his brother William, his best friends Damien and Y/N and of course his girlfriend, Celine. Mark made sure everyone had a good time, he tapped on his glass and proceeded to make a toast, to the future, to the success of his friends and to the love of his life. He recited a long speech he had prepared for months to profess his undying love to Celine and to the surprise of everyone, he knelt down and pulled out a ring. To Mark, his plan was proving flawless, he was sure the love of his life would be joyful and accept his proposal without a second thought. In reality, Celine was not liking the situation, because while she did love Mark, she didn't want to get married and the social pressure of the moment wasn't helping her even utter a "let me think about it".

Damien, knew about how Celine felt about marriage but was aware of how much Mark was devoted to her. and decided to keep quiet. He hoped that maybe, Celine's rebellious nature would die down if she married him. Y/N, on the other hand, did not know of this, but could feel the tension from Celine but also didn't know how to stop this without courting Mark's anger. On top of that, William did not happy about the proposal and left without attracting attention to himself.

(He goes to do some things and then enters the kitchen)

He recalled a time shortly after Celine had abandoned him, when he started to injure himself, he walked to the kitchen at midnight to try and find some paper towels to clean up the mess he made in his room. He hadn't expected Benjamin to still be cleaning up so late.

Benjamin greeted his master kindly, thinking that Mark was just thirsty and had come downstairs for a glass of water. His face quickly fell when he took notice of the cuts on his master's arm.

"Master! what has happened to you?" "Oh this? uh… don't worry! i was doing some late night drinking and i dropped a glass. I just cut myself from trying to pick it-" "This is clearly not a cut that can be caused accidentally!"

He put some towels on his cut to stop the bleeding and he rushed to the closest bathroom possible to get an aid kit.

"Please follow me to the table so i can heal your wounds" He said as he pushed Mark towards the dinning table. Mark knew that Benjamin was very loyal to him , although he had Abe investigate Benjamin since he believed that his butler knew of the affair with but never said anything. Seeing how worried Benjamin was, he felt bad for ever doubting him in the first place.

"There, you should be good to go for now. I shall call for a medic to come and properly inspect your wound tomorrow morning-" "NOBODY IS GOING TO SEE THESE WOUNDS" "..." "Dont call my doctor." "Understood sir, forgive me." "That will be all, thank you. Its late, go get some rest."

Mark ordered and headed towards the stairs when Benjamin called him again. "Sir…i-... i didn't know about the affair.." "I didn't ask- I don't want to hear-" "I understand, but if i may... this situation is difficult and i want you to know that I'm here for you…"

Benjamin cared.

Someone cared about him.

NO.

Did his own butler thought he was weak? Did he dared to think that someone like him would be upset forever over that harlot?

But he meant well, Benjamin had good intentions-

No.

This lousy servant isn't going to look down on him too. What would people think if THE Mark I. Plier allowed himself to be stepped all over even by a mere servant? Just how low had he'd fallen from grace?

Mark simply gave Benjamin a glare and went upstairs to his bedroom.

[bu1410]

Good morning TUMBLR - March 9th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

Ch. XI.2 - Morocco - 1989 - 1991

As for my colleagues, Eng. Alfonzo had settled in a villa in Ben Sergao, about 10 km from Agadir, in front of the old airport. Mr. Curreli lived in a terraced house not far from mine – and so did Mr. Argento, also in the hilly neighborhood of Charaf. It was the beginning of March 1990, and my wife and son finally arrived! My son was 3 1/2 years old at the time, and because of a problem with her right eye, he wore glasses with a ''plugged'' lens to force his left eye to straighten. We organized a lunch to introduce the family to Eng. Alfonzo, and it was a pleasant occasion until ''Andrea the Terrible'' - maybe because by Alfonzo's captivating behavior, threw a crystal candle holder at him which hit him on the left eyebrow arch! Nevertheless, my Boss took it well, even though his eyebrow was bleeding profusely. Naturally the most amused one was Andrea: he didn't stop laughing, unaware of the great damage he caused. Shortly after his arrival, Andrea had started attending the local kindergarten – being with local children had a good impact to him – after a couple of weeks I was amazed at how he had already learned many French sentence. His favorite one remained ''No c'est pas comme ça! '' (No, it's not like that!) which he continually repeated, especially in the presence of his little Romanian friends.

ROMANIANS NEIGHBOURS Opposite us in Charaf, a family of Romanians had settled: husband, wife, a little girl named Isabelle and Tibi, a child of Andrea's age. Their story is worth telling. He was a construction engineer and she was a pediatrician. They had managed to escape the chaos of post-Ceausescu Romania. They had taken a flight Bucarest to Tripoli, Libya - and than from there by train and bus they had crossed Algeria and arrived in Morocco, where the husband's father had worked for some time, and had some acquaintances who could have helpes his son. Once the Romanian guy talk us episodes from their difficult life under the Ceausescu regime. For instance that he, the husband, earned more money by visiting the houses of neighbours and acquaintances by renting a VHS video recorder (some relatives had sent him from Germany) compared to the salary of construction engineer. Or that if they managed to have some pieces of bread to put on the table, it was because she, a pediatrician working in Bucharest hospital, stole from the hospital's kitchen. They knew that bananas existing, but had only eaten them for the first time when they arrived in Libya.

THOSE GUYS OF MONZA

It was the end of March, so as promised I visited the Founty campsite, right at the Sout tip of Agadir. I wanted to check if my friends from Monza had arrived - and yes, I found them immediately, as the campsite was almost deserted, given the season. They were happy to see me again, and invited me to have lunch in one of their nice motor camper. Unfortunately I found Mrs. Perego with a plaster around her leg: she had fallen a few days earlier while the couple was visiting Volubilis (the remains of the Roman city near Meknes). The Lady had fractured her tibia, and was forced to seek treatment in the emergency room of Meknes hospital, where she had been fitted with a plaster knee-high. Mr. Perego was visibly upset about what had happened, which had put her plans for the winter at risk. After an excellent spaghetti dinner, I left the Italians to their fate: they would leave for Italy the next day. It was nice to see them again.

MOROCCO CONSTRUCTION TEAM

Eventually the construction's activities at site had finally resumed. Now in addition to the officials of the Moroccan Ministry of Transport - who used to come to site on Wednesday from Casablanca and leaving on Thursday afternoon - we also had to look after the group of architects sent by Arch. Penseau to ensure that the new directives and new plans were put into practice by Main Contractor Bouygues. 58 pillars of the airport main building were demolished. All this to adapt the project to the directives of the King's architect. The Ministry of Transport team was made up of several members, all experts in the various disciplines that airport construction entails.

The main components were the following:  Head of Mission, M. El Oauri – known as ''Big Belly (or ''provolone) given his predilection for the well-known Italian cheese (every time someone was coming Italy had to bring some of that cheese for him )  Civil engineering: M. El Layooni – fervent Muslim, one of the best Moroccan technicians present on the project.  Aeronautics expert M. El Abbaoui – a decision maker – he helped us a lot on several occasions.  Meteorological expert M. Hachimi – He lost several weather balloons during testing.  The telecommunications expert M. Slimani – played a very important role in the repair of the fiber optic cable that connected the airport to the world, severed by an excavator 5 days before the inauguration date of the new airport.  General services officer M. Mustafa Abdellatif - a long-time employee of the Ministry of Transport - boasted of two things: having made the pilgrimage to Mecca (for this reason he was respectfully called ''El Haji'') and having participated as an organizer in the great Green March. The Green March was a mass strategic initiative implemented in November 1975, coordinated by the Moroccan Government which, after the abandonment of the so-called Spanish Sahara (at the time a territory controlled by Spain under the name of Rio de Oro) invaded the territory on November 6th 1975. Around 350,000 unarmed Moroccan volunteers and 25,000 soldiers, under the leadership of the Moroccan Government, gathered near the city of Tarfaya waiting for His Majesty King Hassan II of Morocco to give the signal to cross the border into Western Sahara.

The people mentioned above were joined by experts from the Provincial laboratory for testing concrete and asphalt. Then there were a whole series of other employees, such as supervisors, secretaries, drivers, gardeners etc who represented the ''social'' side of the project - in the sense that the Central Government had decided to employ a few dozen local people. Out of all I remember three of these girls, without much knowledge but very keen to learn. There was Rabia (Spring in Arabic) a chubby girl who was the only one who had previous secretarial knowledge. Than Jamila (Beauty in Arabic) the wife of a policeman – with a particularly jovial character. And finally Aisha - M. El Ouri had nicknamed her ''Alauja'' (the lame) for her habit of dragging her feet.

New Agadir International Airport - Site Aerial view

New Agadir International Airport - Control Tower

New Agadir International Airport - Terrace

BOUYGUES - Main Contractor

The French company Bouygues had an impressive construction team, headed by M. Abdulkarim, a Tunisian naturalized Frenchman. Gifted with great savoir faire, he used to go around the offices every morning to greet and chat with his team mates. Bouygues had the intention of establishing iimself in Morocco, which they considered a promising market at the time. In this regard the Frenc Contractor took the project of the new Agadir airport as a promotion that would show Moroccans what they were capable of. The arrival of the construction equipment in Morocco was spectacular: a sort of peaceful ''landing in Normandy operation'' with dozens of equipment divided into two main colours: red for the concrete, green for the asphalt. I had the luck to meet personally meeting M. Bouygues, who came to visit the construction site on his personal jet, a Falcon 50. I got on board and noticed the elegance of the interiors and the beauty of the two hostesses.

LAHBABII FAMILY Life continued at its slow pace - Agadir is a city with a particular microclimate where there is a sort of ''eternal spring''. temperatures in summer rarely exceeding 25-28 degrees °C and in winter not lower than 17 – 18 degrees °C. During one of our Sundays on the beach, we met a local family: husband Mr. Karim Lahbabi, a Moroccan guy - his wife Andrea was of German origin. The pair met during a holiday in Spain, and eventually married. They had a young daughter at the time, who would later be joined by second daughter, Ghislane. Thus began a relationship that lasted for the entire period in which we remained in Agadir. They were a couple with a lot of initiative: at first they opened a clothing store near the Anezi hotel complex. Realizing that it wasn't working, they soon closed it, to open another store that dealt with curtains, chandeliers and home furnishings in general. They than emigrated first to Gran Canaria, and after few years to the Costa del Sol, Spain.

FIELD TRIPS Trips around Agadir were always organized at the weekend. One of the most interesting was the one at the Imouzzer waterfalls and the ''supposed Timdwin Caves''. That time we were a group made up of my family, Arch. Bozon and the Lahbabi family. At a distance of about 50 km from Agadir, on the first foothills of the Atlas Mountains, the Imouzzer waterfalls are seasonal. In the sense that they can only be admired in the short rainy season of November/December.

However, it was pleasant: the area is very wild, and the food offered by the restaurant overlooking the waterfall is good and plentiful: tagine de poulet - tagine de poisson, delights of Moroccan cuisine.

In the afternoon Bozon proposed a visit to the caves, which were presumed further North of Imouzzer. We set off, in the Range Rover and Karim's Toyota. The dirt road climbed steeply up the mountainside. As the kilometers passed, Bozon seemed less sure of the destination. At a certain point, after a bend, a big boulder blocked the road!! What to do? There was no question of going back, it had now become a sort of mule track where the Range Rover barely passed, and there were no lay-bys to make a U-turn. I made everyone get out of the cars, and after a good half hour of work, by leveraging some wood found nearby we managed to make the boulder fall into the slope. We continued on, and I occasionally asked Bozon about the caves, to which he responded in monosyllables. After a few kilometers (and several times in which I had to get the occupants out of the car because the maneuvers were too dangerous) we found ourselves faced with a massive boulder in the middle of the road! The dimensions were such that it immediately seemed impossible to be able to repeat the same maneuver with which we had freed ourselves from the first obstacle. Meanwhile the first shadows of the evening were falling!! While the curses towards Bozon who had led us into this ''trap'' abounded, I had to turn on the lights of the Range - this probably caused the inhabitants of a nearby village to see us, and pushed them to start walking towards us . After half an hour, about twenty men, women and children had reached us on the edge of the mountain and said they were willing to help to get us out of trouble. No sooner said than done, suddenly long sticks, iron levers and ropes appeared. In short, the boulder was tied, partially raised and stuffed to try to overturn it. After some failed attempts, we finally managed, with a great effort, to first move and then roll the boulder onto the slope below!!! Shouts of celebration and even with that typical cry that only Moroccan women can produce (twalwil or yu-yu) greeted the boulder that bounced towards the valley, fortunately not on the village's fall line, which otherwise could have caused irreparable damage! We thanked our ''saviors'' with generous tips.

Ahh…and the caves? Talking to the villagers we discovered that yes the village was called ''Grotte de Timdwin'' (Caves of Timdwin) but that the caves did not exist… or that perhaps they had existed once… or that perhaps they were somewhere else…… in short, like many things in Morocco they were something random, legendary, perhaps with a grain of truth, who knows……. In any case we returned home via the Marrakesh - Agadir state road, reaching home when it was already deep night.

Imouzzer Ida Outanane - Morocco

[watsonphotog]

Self portrait. Nikon d300S. December, 2020.

Hey there, Tumblr. It’s been a while.

I had written SO much and then the draft decided to just... shit out for some goddamn reason. Glad to see this site still absolutely choogles ass.

Regardless, as much as I’ve been inactive on this website, and now as pissed as I am that I lost ALL THAT WORK, I really have been feeling the urge to start photoblogging again. This time, I’m feeling more blogging how I’m feeling along with my images, so a touch more personal than before. For some reason, I had sort of thought that was the original idea behind this thing.

But we’ll see.

Where do I even begin...?

So much has happened since that last post, and it’s nearly impossible to summarize almost 8 years in one shot, but I can probably gloss over it.

I, in fact, did not put my life back together after that last picture. In fact, I am pretty sure I fell into the deepest depression of my life a few months later. Like, only eating an apple, an orange, and two bananas each day because you couldn’t afford any more food nor did you feel like eating anything else level depression. Did wonders for my weight, but it just about shattered my ability to form and maintain memories. Seriously, my college years are kind of just a blur now, which is incredibly depressing, because I know they were some of the most important years of my life, but they’re just... gone. Not all gone, mind you, but there’s an overwhelming amount of fog there. It destroyed my relationship with a lot of people, or at least made me fizzle out in their lives... I lived for Loki, my family, and to do nothing but work. People would reach out, and I simply could not bring myself to respond. It didn’t get better for a long, long time. In retrospect, it’s honestly a miracle I’m still here... honestly, if it wasn’t for Loki or my mother, I probably wouldn’t be. I am better now, in a way where I at least am not at that level. Still haven’t gone to therapy, but I’m at least looking for one now and don’t feel like I’m at that rock bottom anymore.

To be fair, the drinking didn’t help the whole memory holes thing I mentioned, either. I wouldn’t call myself sober nowadays, but one very important memory I have in college is the time I had to work at a convention while hung over as fuck, and between hating working after a night of booze, working at least 5 days a week, and the fact I was making piss poor nothing out of college, I stopped drinking almost altogether. I won’t say no to a drink (unless I’m really not feeling it), but I think that I have a far more healthy relationship with alcohol nowadays.

Speaking of jobs and making piss poor nothing- I have been working at that same job since I got hired on a hail mary chance shortly after graduating. I am going to do my best to never name it by name on this blog (they have kind of a funny social media policy, and god help me if any of my management friends/cohort/coworkers ever find this), but I will say it’s a well loved convenience store in the mid Atlantic region and leave it at that. Nowadays, I am an assistant general manager, which is a hell of a step up from the like 8-something dollars an hour I started at. It wasn’t an easy path, and it certainly had some downfalls, but right now I am happy where I am at and I still believe in the company and what it stands for. Plus, it pays the bills, so that’s nice.

I’m still living in Philadelphia, in the same apartment I moved to after leaving The Lost World behind. It’s on a quiet(ish) little corner on the boarder of Fairmount and Brewerytown, with lots of trees nearby and some beautiful sights in walking distance. The rent is cheap for the area, my landlords leave me to my own devices, and it’s a relative hub of transit options. I’ve had a few roommates in my time here... most have not been great, but I did get to live with Luke (a highlight) and the one roommate I had here for maybe 5-6 years, Issy, ended up being one of my best friends. Right now, Loki and I are doing the solo living thing, and with my raises at work and some strict spending management on my end, it’s honestly not terrible. I’m really enjoying not having another roommate, and I hope I can keep it up for a while.

Speaking of Loki... my lil old man is doing alright. He’s had a few health scares over the years, a few bladder issues that kept him on medicated food, a heart murmur, and now thyroid problems. He’s like 13 or 14 at this point, so it’s to be expected. I think about how he’s old quite often as of late, and it fills me with a sense of dread. I don’t like that he’s in the twilight of his life, even though he still acts like a kitten with running and playing and being a little ridiculous goofball. I really can’t imagine my life without him.

As for brighter things...

I finally got over my fear of basic math and took a stab at playing Dungeons and Dragons a few years ago, and I am so glad I did. It’s honestly been a life changing thing for me, and a huge part of my social life nowadays. I started DMing in 2017 or 2018 on my birthday, and while COVID put most of the campaigns I run on hiatus, I’m slowly getting back into the DM saddle. It’s helped me make some amazing friends while also express some of those crazy story ideas I’ve had rumbling around in my brain since I was a kid. Truly a 10/10 experience.

I somehow ended up as a Twitch affiliate, and I actually get paid to stream nowadays. I was part of enough D&D streams on my own that it motivated me to start streaming games again, and shit, it paid off. I’ve been a key organizer in at least 5 fundraisers now, and helped raise a shit load of funds over the past few years for some awesome causes while doing some ridiculous things online. It’s been a great experience.

Perhaps the most shocking of all things, however, is that I finally made the discovery and come to grips with the fact I’m polyamorous. If you’ve known me for as long as I’ve had a Tumblr, this is probably pretty shocking, especially given that my first experience with polyamory was less ethical nonmonogamy and more my ex sleeping with whoever she wanted guilt free because she couldn't do long distance relationships and I was some sort of weird emotional crutch for her, and it traumatized me to the idea for a long time. However, in my last major relationship, I had this realization that I could probably happily be in a polyamorous relationship if the communication was there, and while I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my monogamous relationship to find that out, if there ever was a reason I was single again, I was going to try it out. Well, after we split and then COVID ruined everyone’s lives (and another pretty unfortunate relationship), I tried the solo poly thing for a while, because the person I needed to date the most at that point was myself.

Well, I kind of failed at that part a bit, as now I have not one but two girlfriends. Sarah, who is married, is the first, and Katie, who I am definitely going to marry, is the second. I met Sarah around August of 2021, and while I was supposed to be just a fun time bonus thing for her (she was in two other relationships at this point), she eventually caught the feels and we eventually talked it out. I met Katie in November of the same year, and it was like finding everything I ever wanted in a partner in a single human being. I won’t say it was love at first sight, but it was definitely love a lot quicker than I think I was comfortable with admitting. I’ve had a few missteps along the way, and it’s occasionally been a bit messy, but it’s been a great experience regardless and I am very happy with my relationships.

If I had to ask 2015 Ian, as he looked into that broken mirror on that October night, what he thought his life would look like nowadays, I don’t think he would have believed me if I had told him almost all of his expectations were wrong. But I think that’s probably a good thing.

I don’t really have much else to add to wrap this up, only that I am going to try my damndest to actually blog here a bit more and get some of the feelings and thougths I have off my chest. I don’t really think any of the followers I have on this Tumblr use it anymore, nor do I think many of them would really care what I have to say anymore. This isn’t for the notes or views, though.

This is for me.

Til next time...

[liftoid]

spring cut log #0

I will be "officially" starting my fat loss phase tomorrow (why not today? don't want to, basically) and I want to preface it by talking about my thoughts regarding where I'm at currently, where I hope to get, how I'm planning on doing that, and problems I anticipate cropping up.

I haven't weighed myself today but based on recent weigh-ins and my eating habits currently I would guess I'm somewhere between 185 and 190 pounds. It's entirely possible my weight will be above 190 when I weight myself tomorrow, but a large part of that would be due to water retention and bloating from what I've been eating the past few days and would go quickly once I clean up my act. My goal is to get to 165 by May 15, starting from March 9. The May 15 date is pretty arbitrary, but it's the Monday after my finals week, my last day at my internship, and is shortly before I'll be going to a concert, as well as being not long before my birthday. I also want to get to a lower body comp by the time summer really starts so I will feel more comfortable in my necessarily more revealing summer attire. It might be better in some ways to just accept my body and have fun regardless, but I have issues with that for gender dysphoria and body dysmorphia reasons, and I do think being at a lower body fat will help with that to some degree. I also just want to be able to see my muscles better and have an easier time running and playing sports in general, and carrying less excess fat helps with that. 165 should be pretty lean for a 5'8'' "female" with a decent amount of muscle, hence it being my goal. I intend to maintain around that bodyfat% or maybe slowly keep lowering it, depending on how I'm feeling, for the duration of the summer and then start bulking in the fall.

I'm using MacroFactor to track my diet--it's my preferred diet app because I like the automatic adjustments and the macro recommendations it gives me. I'm also happy to support the people who made it. It's arguably silly to pay for a product where similar free apps exist, but I genuinely believe it's worth it for me personally and adds more value to my life than most unnecessary things I spend money on. I am of course eating high protein, and I've opted to go for lower fat in favor of more carbs just because personally fat is the easiest macro for me to reduce. My daily calories and macros starting out are 1610 calories with 130p, 41f, and 180c. I should acknowledge these calories are pretty low! I'm trying to reduce a significant amount of weight in a relatively short time, which isn't optimal for adherence or enjoyment, and I wouldn't recommend people do this in general, but it's what I'm doing to try to reach my goal by the date I set. If it becomes too tough, I'll back off on my goal and bring my calories up to a smaller deficit.

I'm hoping to lift 4 times a week. I play a sport recreationally twice a week, and I also try to go on runs at least once or twice a week. I also aim to get around 10k steps each day. The lifting will be the hardest thing for me to be consistent with due to the time commitment and because I despise the atmosphere of my university gym. It has a relatively small effect on energy expenditure, so it isn't the biggest issue for fat loss if I skip it more often than not, but I'd really like to maintain my muscle or even gain a little bit so at minimum I want to at least go once or twice a week. Running is also time-dependent as well as being weather-dependent since I run outside, but it's easier to commit to an hour, from leaving my house to coming back, for a run compared to two for lifting (lifting doesn't HAVE to take that long, but for the volume I want to do and with rest times, it adds up...). I fall short of 10k steps most days this semester, but if I can get close consistently that'll be good enough I think. I used to consistently hit 12-15k last spring based on my class schedule. Miss that.

I haven't gotten around to picking all of these up yet, but I intend to take a multivitamin, fish oil, a fiber supplement, and creatine daily. I'm also a big caffeine addict, so there will be plenty of coffee and energy drinks in my life. I'm trying to shift more to coffee as opposed to energy drinks since they're expensive and I'm kind of starting to not love how they make me feel, and I also find they're less effective than coffee for giving me a buzz (which is a goal. I love caffeine jitters). Anyway, none of these are necessary but I'm hoping the first three things I mentioned will help to supplement things I'm missing in my diet (more on that next) and I find creatine does subtly make my muscles look bigger and makes me a little stronger, so might as well.

Diet--I'm planning on meal prepping servings of roast veggies and lean meat for a couple days at a time and filling in the rest of my macros with greek yogurt, cottage cheese, chickpea pasta, tofu, and protein powder. I also want to try to eat some fruit every day. I know realistically I will likely end up missing veggies and fruit many days, so I think a multivitamin and fiber supp is called for here. Since my diet will be pretty low in fat, I think getting omega-3s with the fish oil supplement can't hurt. My diet is always one of the things I struggle with most due to my binge eating tendencies and also, this food is just kinda boring! Even when it's tasty, I still get inclinations to go get a candy bar or slice of pizza. Managing cravings is annoying, and while I could in theory include these foods in some quantity, it makes everything else worse in order to make room for them. I'm sure they'll creep in here and there, but I'm trying to minimize that.

Other issues I forsee are weed, drinking, and difficulties managing stress and sleep. The former two are issues because they encourage me to eat more and in the case of alcohol it's inherently caloric and bad for recovery (weed probably isn't good for recovery either in my case, though I don't think this is a big problem for everyone). These can be avoided by just not doing them, but I love getting high especially when I'm stressed and it's not unlikely I'll have some occasion or another where I'll be drinking. With weed I just need to plan to go to bed at a reasonable time and not go crazy eating, and with alcohol I think I should shift my calories to be consumed close to the time I'll be drinking and to leave some uneaten to help compensate for alcohol and anything I might choose to go eat while I'm intoxicated. A nice thing about cutting is it takes way less to get me feeling silly, so hopefully that'll also help reduce my calories from alcohol. Stress and sleep issues are going to be harder just because being stressed is a fact of my life right now and I have to forgo sleep at times in order to get work done. Working on not procrastinating would help with both of these--maybe won't fix them entirely, but would definitely improve my situation.

Looking at the problems I've identified, I can see getting on top of my school and work stuff would help alleviate a lot of them, so it's my goal to get my shit together as I do this cut. I'm about to head into spring break, so I want to tie up any loose ends from the first half of this semester to have a clean start going into the rest of it. I didn't really mention it earlier, but stress and procrastination both trigger my binging tendencies, so getting stuff in order will also help with that.

Writing these logs is something I'm mostly doing for fun and for some sense of accountability (though no one is reading these lol) but I think it'll also encourage me to be more introspective and reflect on what's working and what isn't, and why that's the case. I think normal people just journal but I've never been able to get into that because it feels too general to just write about my day or how I felt that day or whatever people usually write about. Framing it through the lens of fat loss gives me a focus, and it's becoming clear to me as I write this that for this process to go optimally I'm going to have to get the other areas of my life in check as well, so I expect to be mentioning those things throughout these posts. I don't plan on editing these much before posting--they're going to be largely stream of consciousness nonsense and I'm kind of looking forward to reading them months later and getting a glimpse into where my mind is at at various points.

On days I train I'll post my workouts and I think I'm going to start tracking my running stats closer as well. Likewise, if I pick up any other modes of cardio (I've been eyeing the rowing machines at my gym) I'll share my stats for those as well to the best of my ability. I also intend to post my steps, weight, weight trend, and calories and macros each day. I might throw in some food pics here and there but my diet is going to be pretty uninteresting so they probably won't be frequent. I don't plan on enumerating exactly what foods I eat each day, but I might describe it in general terms.

[divergent-one-1984]

Organized Crime Ring in Astoria, NY, in a neighborhood under the jurisdiction of 114th PRECINCT and in apartment buildings managed by CENTRAL ASTORIA, LLC. I have been the victim of TARGETED COMMUNITY HARASSMENT SINCE SUMMER 2016 because of my race and gender, I am an African American woman (because of a rumor / gossip mill started by staff at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION while I was employed there from 2014 to 2016 I was made the victim of targeted psychological harassment). Due to the illegal access and leaking of private, personal, confidential information by wiretapping / cloning / hacking of personal devices and illegal surveillance in my residence. This includes leaking of confidential medical information ((HPV, strains that can cause cervical cancer and an Abortion) - Sujected to NOISE HARASSMENT, DIRECTED CONVERSATION, and SLEEP DEPRIVATION all night up until now at 7:52AM from tenants who live above me

In addition to the HATE CRIME element to the ongoing stalking and harassment there is a Religious Zealotry / Nuttery / Judgmental / Fundamentalism / Extremism element to my daily harassment as I am being harassed by mostly Muslim and Latino people. Based on facts / my observation, I would estimate that 9 out of 10 people harassing me on a daily basis are Muslim or Latino, with Muslims ranking number 1, Muslims who appear to be from Middle Eastern / Arab countries and countries on the Asian continent. All of the tenants in my apartment building are involved in my daily harassment, especially the 3 apartments surrounding my apartment. 2 of the apartments are occupied by Muslim tenants and the 3rd apartment is occupied by Latino tenants. Out of the 9 apartments in my apartment building. 2 of the tenants, including myself are African American, the remaining 7 apartments are occupied by Latino and Muslim tenants, with the Muslims being in the majority.

I have been attempting to sleep since about Midnight. I was listening to music for a while last night, immediately after I turned the music off, one of the STALKERS /HARASSERS / ABUSERS in the apartment upstairs started making noise. The layout of the apartment above me is the same as mine therefore this tenant has been sitting in their bedroom all night just talking, either to themselves or via a phone, or maybe its a recording since I cannot hear a response. I can only hear one person talking loudly, clearly and annoyingly and laughing (with and annoying evil connotation, the laughter seems unatural and being done intentionally every like 1 to 2 minutes, not like a free flowing natural conversatiom would go. The laughing is a reference to a conversation I had on my personal cell phone regarding an in person conversation I had with DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON (a person I am constantly harassed about and who is someone think may have something to do with me being targeted. In JUNE 2016, while him and his daughter was in the US, I briefly met up with him at his relatives house the day he was to fly back to EL SALVADOR, CENTRAL AMERICA. I was telling him about then WORKPLACE MOBBING I experienced at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION and that being the reason why I quit. He made a statement that "Everyone was laughing at me", I guess because I quit my job and reported the WORKPLACE MOBBING to NYS DEPARTMENT OF LABOR. At the time I did not know, but its clear he was in on the harassment and made that statement as a DIRECTED CONVERSATION because I think he already knew about what had been done to me. I thought it wa an odd statement to make. If I just told you I was harassed at my job and had to quit, that response is just weird. When I got to the home of his relative there was a an FDNY HELMET laying on a table, which was a harassment tactic, leaving objects around to psychologically harass the target through subliminal messaging. I had been to DEVIN'S relative's home many times before and saw no indication of FDNY, if I recall it was never a topic of conversation. I am an observant person. I believe this FDNY helmet was strategically and intentionally placed go remind me of NATSHA LIGGINS MODELO, the mean girl who started harassing me and I believe initiated the WORKPLACE MOBBING at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION. About 1 or 2 weeks after I quit she left NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION and went to work for FDNY, during this time the investigation re my complaint filed with NYS DEPARTMENT OF LABOR was underway. FDNY was also an agency I was trying to obtain employment with shortly prior to quitting NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION. A former colleague of Mine was trying to get me a job working with him at FDNY.

The monologue is repetitively interspersed with their native language, a few catch phrases such as "Lisa Leslie" (see previous post from some days ago for context and more detail) for the purposes of DIRECTED CONVERSATION.

This tenant upstairs has been talking and laughing nonstop, not allowing to fall asleep or stay asleep.

[officialcharactersimp]

Mending & Amends

(Graduation Gift Part 4)

Summary: the fourth installment of my graduation gift series (can be found on my masterlist). This picks up literally seconds after the end of pt 3 with Natasha trying to find ways to make amends and get you to trust her again. No smut, but still not appropriate.

A/N: author’s note WC: 3k (holy heck)

CW: dark fic; mommy!nat; there is no porn, I repeat no porn; but there is mommy milk/breastfeeding; reader is injured; dubcon existence; 18+ only, do you hear me??

While you’re out, Natasha has time to tend to your injuries without you cowering and crying. Without all the guilt.

She picks your limp form up gently and brings you back out to the basement proper and lays you face-down on the bed-crib. She goes to get some medical supplies and cleans you up, then bandages the open bits and rubs some healing salve all over you. With only a few strikes having landed on your core, she’s satisfied with rubbing some of the salve there.

She gets you to drink some water from a bottle in your sleep, your natural instincts she’s been nurturing taking over. She checks your temperature, a solid 99, which isn’t too bad. She wipes the sweat and tear-tracks from your face, then brushes your hair out again. She lays down beside you and drapes an arm over your waist, burying her face into the back of your neck as she tries to think of what she’ll do when you wake up.

An idea forms slowly as she runs her hand along your waist. Yes, that will work. You might not like it at first, but it will work if she bears through it. She’s not sure how much of the fear and pain on your face she can handle, but she needs to.

She moves you off the bed to make it up nice, then sets you down gently, face down. Whenever you’re healed up you’ll be able to lay on your back, but right now that’s not possible. She ties your hands and feet to frame corners with plenty of slack—she wants you to be able to move.

Finally, she reluctantly removes your collar, biting her lip as she does so. It looked so precious on you, a symbol of the progress of your relationship. All gone now, thanks to her paranoia and overreaction. As much as she doesn’t want to remove it, it’s not right to keep it on if it speaks a lie.

Then she waits for you to come to. It shouldn’t be much longer now, maybe another half hour or so. She sits in the rocking chair in the corner, anxiously bouncing her leg. She needs to get herself under control before you wake. She knows her little baby needs for her to be the collected, caring, soothing mommy right now, and that you will for some time.

You mumble a little as you begin to stir, picking your head up a little. She takes a deep breath and smiles before going over and crouching down to look at your face while she gently tucks your hair back.

“Hey baby,” she says softly. “How’s my little sleepyhead feeling?” she asks. You whimper and inch away from her.

“D-don’ touch me,” you stammer.

“It’s okay baby, mommy isn’t gonna hurt you,” she says.

She sits down beside you. “I am so so sorry about what I did earlier. I was scared you were gonna try to leave me and get hurt. It’s a nasty drop from that window. But I didn’t take the time to think past my initial reaction or ask you, and that was wrong. I overreacted out of fear and anger without stopping to think, and I’m so sorry, little one. I never should have done that,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. You turn your head to look up at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of ingenuity. You find only regret and sadness.

“You mean it?” you ask softly.

“Yes baby,” she says. “And mommy promises never to punish you without talking first or before taking some deep breaths, okay?” she says.

“Pinky promise?” you ask.

“Pinky promise,” she sticks out her pinky to hook with yours. She’s thrilled that you’re already starting to be a bit little again. As you move to interlock with her, you notice the restraints.

“Wait, what?” all traces of your headspace are gone as you jerk up to look around at your tied limbs. “What the hell?”

“Baby, it’s to keep you safe. See? They’re not tight or anything,” she tugs on all the loose rope.

“This is insane! All of this is insane!” you shout at her for the first time in weeks. It breaks her heart even more.

“I told you, mommy’s gonna fix what she did. Mommy’s gonna show you you can trust me again, gonna take care of you, of everything. Make it so this collar means something again,” she taps it on the bedside table, just out of your reach. You bury your face in your pillow and sob.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s gonna make it all better,” she curls up beside you and puts an arm over you again. Despite how upset you are, you lean into it, wanting the physical comfort you associate with her.

“How’s your bottom?” she asks.

“Hurts,” you mumble.

“Do you think some Advil might help?” she asks. You nod and she gets up briefly to go get it. “Here you go, baby,” you tilt your head up and she puts the pills in, then grabs your bottle of water. You roll your eyes but suck on it to get the water to wash the pills down. You nod a thank you.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. You nod. “What do you want? I’ll even go drive through somewhere if that will help,” she says. You think for a moment.

“McDonalds?” you ask hopefully. She nods and smooths your hair back.

“McDonalds will be here soon,” she assures you. “Mommy has to go see a friend, too, so it works out. I’ll be back in half an hour or so, okay?” she says. You nod.

She kisses your head, which you recoil from, and leaves. You’re left alone to lay face-down on the crib-bed, restrained and in pain, until she returns. It’s silent. It’s lonely. You’ve grown used to either having Natasha or the sounds of the TV running since you came down here.

You think back to this morning. Everything was so different. You honestly trusted her this morning, even if it wasn’t the strongest trust. But this afternoon reminded you that she was an unstable, dangerous, paranoid lunatic. And it scared you.

Truth be told, you’ve grown to like being “little,” as Natasha calls it, letting yourself stop thinking too much and trust your mommy—Natasha, you correct yourself—to take care of you. You liked playing with her and cuddling. And when she touched you, it felt so good. So much better than when you had touched yourself. You felt loved and cared for in some twisted way.

But that was all in the past, now. You’d been doing so well, both of you, and now this. How does she expect you to trust her again? You’re not sure. You turn your head and close your eyes.

—

“You’re sure this will work, Wan?” Natasha asks her friend anxiously as she pulls her shirt back on. The red glow around her is fading. Her bra feels painfully tight and she winces.

“I’m positive. It worked for me, and especially given that you told me it’s happened before with those meds. If not tonight, by tomorrow for sure. And here’s these,” she hands Natasha a package. “They’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Wanda. I don’t know what I’d do without you, in all honesty,” she says. Wanda smiles and hugs her.

“I could say the same to you,” she smiles. “Go on, get back to your little one,” she shoos her playfully. Natasha waves and leaves, then drives by McDonalds as promised. She’s back in a little over half an hour to see you dozing. It warms her heart to see her precious baby sleeping.

“Come on, little one, mommy brought your food,” she says, shaking you gently. You open your eyes and push yourself up off of the bed some. “Let’s get you comfy,” she helps you find a position that isn’t too uncomfortable for your aching rear, then hands you your food. “What do we say?” she asks.

“Thank you,” you say with a french fry in your mouth. She smiles. The mommy will come back later. She won’t push it for tonight.

“Do you wanna watch some cartoons?” she asks. They always engross you and help you into your littlespace. You nod and she flicks through the TV until she finds one she knows you like.

You both eat in relative silence, watching the TV. At least you’re not trying to cower anymore. That’s good, right? Progress? She hopes so.

“I’m gonna use the potty,” she tells you, then gets up. You don’t notice her bring the package with her as does.

When she returns, you notice something different about her, but you can’t tell what. It’s a small difference, then. Maybe she just fixed her hair. She’s smiling though.

You’re finished with your food soon enough, and the show ends shortly after.

“Let’s get you in the bath now baby, hm?” she suggests. You feel gross anyways, so you nod. She unties you and scoops you up in her arms.

“Let me down!” you squirm.

“Hush now, like mommy told you, I’m gonna take care of everything. Gonna show you you can trust me again,” she says. You squirm all the way to the bathroom anyways. She sets you down on the toilet facing the wall, almost straddling it.

“Huh?” you ask.

“It’s less pressure on your little bottom,” she explains. You nod and use the toilet while she gets the tub ready, but when you go to get some toilet paper, Natasha beats you to it. “I’ve got it, baby,” she says, wiping your tender area gently. You wince and try to get away from her.

“Stop it, I’m not a baby!” you try to grab her hand and move it, but she stays still, unmoving.

“Come on, little one. I know you’re in there. I know you want to let mommy take care of you,” she says. You shake your head. “Baby, this is about me proving to you that you can trust me to take care of you,” her voice is even. “I want you to choose to let me prove it to you. That’s why I haven’t given you any of the medicine I used to. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to believe how much I care about you again,” she says.

“But—“ you don’t know what you were planning on saying. “But I wanna do it myself. I can do it myself,” your voice is quiet as you lose your grip on her wrist, barely audible.

“That’s the thing, precious,” she steps closer to you, finishing her task and then using her other hand to pet your head. “I know you can do it. But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here,” she says. You groan and lean forward on the toilet tank. “Come on, you’ll feel better when you’re clean,” she picks you up and sets you in the tub, then flushes the toilet.

You sigh and let her bathe you. Your body is too sore from getting dragged and caned to wash yourself that effectively anyways. When she gets to your most sensitive areas though, you squirm away from her and reach for the soap.

“It’s too sore. I wanna wash it myself,” you say quietly.

“I’m gonna be so careful, you won’t even notice,” she gently moved your hand away and got the soap again. Tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip started to form a pout. “No, baby, don’t cry,” she gasps, petting your cheek. “Tell mommy what’s going on,” she says.

“I’m scared,” you say. “I don’t want you to touch it because you hurt me,” you say. Her heart breaks again.

“Okay, sweetie, how about this: we can do it together,” she takes your hand and puts it over hers, then begins to wash you gentler than ever. Your breathing hitches and your heart kicks up, but it’s over before it can go into full-blown panic.

“All done. You did such a good job, little one,” she praises you. “Ready to get out, or do you want to play in the water some?” she asks.

“Ready to get out,” you say. She picks you up out of the bath and dries you off with a soft towel before taking you out to the bed. She pulls on a soft shirt, leaving your bottom half uncovered so as not to irritate it. She changes into the spare pjs she keeps down here and crawls into bed beside you. You don’t welcome or recoil from her touch, which she’ll take as progress.

Her chest is still dully aching, but she knows she’s pushed you far enough for tonight. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be able to coax you into it.

—

When day comes again, Natasha is treating you the way she did when she first brought you down here, only with gentleness and tenderness where there was hardness and strictness before. The lack of the sedative drugs in your system makes it more difficult, but she’s able to maneuver your squirming form through the daily ritual of getting up, using the toilet, getting dressed, brushing your hair and teeth, and finally breakfast. Whenever she can, she has you laying on your stomach on the bed, and this is one thing you don’t protest.

You notice her shifting in discomfort the whole morning though, and despite how much you dislike her at the moment, you hate to see her in pain. You work up the courage to ask after a while of watching cartoons.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I… well, I have a side effect from a treatment I had done that’s causing me discomfort,” she admits.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “That sucks.”

“There’s a way you can help me,” she says, sounding more timid than you’ve heard her maybe ever before.

“What is it?” you ask. To your confusion, she started to unbutton her shirt, and then she unclips her bra, but from the top? What?

“Huh?” you blurt out.

“I’m lactating,” she says simply, squeezing her nipple a little, causing a drop of what can only be breast milk to come of it.

“I—what do you want me to do about it?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“They hurt because they’re too full,” she explains. “And it would be really helpful if you would, well… empty them. I don’t have a breast pump, of course,” she says.

“Wait, like, you want me to—to drink your milk?” you’re turning bright red. Even after everything you’ve done with her, you’re almost unbearably embarrassed.

“Yes, baby, it would really help me, plus I think that you’ll like it. And it could help us…feel closer,” she chooses her words carefully, gauging your reaction.

“It’s kinda weirding me out,” you say honestly.

“Just try it, please, baby? It’ll help me feel so much better. And I promise, if you hate it after a little while then I’ll get a pump,” she crosses her fingers behind her back.

“I… okay,” you say. This whole situation is so absurd you can hardly bother trying to resist it. She smiles and adjusts the both of you to where you can reach her breast.

It’s not like you haven’t had her tits in your mouth before. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous right now. Natasha gently puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you a little closer. You wrap your mouth around her nipple hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“It’s like your bottle, sweetheart,” she senses your confusion. You tentatively begin sucking, and you’re surprised by the flow of milk into your mouth. You jerk back, but Natasha keeps your head in place, groaning in relief.

When the initial shock wears off, you realize she was right—you do like it. It’s warm and sweet, and the sucking action soothes you. You relax a little.

“That’s a good baby for mommy,” Natasha says gently, stroking your head with her thumb on the hand supporting you. “Do you like mommy’s milkies?” she asks. You nod, slipping into littlespace quickly as you drink from her. “Is it yummy?” she asks out of her own curiosity. You nod, not wanting to stop to answer. She chuckles. “It’s all yours, little one.”

She moves you to her other breast when you’ve finished, looking down and noticing that her other one is indeed smaller, and it certainly feels better now. You clutch at her gently to get a good angle, and her heart swells. She’s so glad this worked, but then again, Wanda’s advice has yet to fail her, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

When you finish, your eyelids are droopy and you nuzzle into her willingly, a rarity even before she fucked everything up. She pets you gently.

“Sleepy, little one?” she asks you softly. You nod. “Want a nap?” she asks. You nod again. Between your body being exhausted already and the soothing effects of her milk, she’s not surprised you’re already tired even though you’ve only been awake for a few hours. “Let mommy check your bottom, okay?” she turns you on your tummy. You’re healing nicely. “Do you want a blankie? I think it won’t hurt,” she says. You nod and she covers you with a blanket.

“Mommy stay,” you say when she gets up. And how is she supposed to argue with that? The answer is, she isn’t, so after she turns the lights off, he curls up next to you and holds you close.

“Mommy’s here, little one,” she assures you, finding your favorite stuffie and handing it to you. “Mommy will always be here, don’t you worry.”

[angelicyoongie]

Out of the Woods (III)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, smut — word count: 11K — warnings: mentions of past abuse, explicit sexual content! — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

Namjoon startles with a low growl at the knock at the door, ears twisting back as it opens to reveal the nurse alongside someone you haven’t seen before. “Mr. Kim, Miss Y/n, meet Yeonjun. He’s our hybrid shelter contact, and he has some information to share with you regarding Mr. Kim’s owner. I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be back shortly,” You give the nurse a small nod before she leaves, your attention straying back to the blue-haired man standing just inside the door.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Yeonjun says, a warm smile on his lips. The wolf hybrid’s growl grows louder as Yeonjun’s eyes find yours, Namjoon bristling under your touch. “Don’t worry Mr. Kim, I’ll stay right here,” Yeonjun leans back against the wall, his posture relaxed and open despite the snarl on Namjoon’s lips. You squeeze his wrist in warning, begging him to calm down. You have no clue what Yeonjun is here for, but you don’t want Namjoon to ruin his chances of a good home by making a bad first impression. Namjoon’s growl stutters at your tight grip, and Yeonjun looks amused as the wolf hybrid forces himself to relax against the pillows behind his back. Namjoon settles for glaring at him instead, and you take that as a small win.

“Sorry, you had something to tell us?” You say.

“I do,” Yeonjun ruffles through the folder in his hand, eyes squinting slightly as he reads off the information. “It says here that the legal owner of Kim Namjoon, Mr. Kim Deok-ho, filed a missing hybrid report five years ago. Is that correct?” Namjoon offers a stiff nod, his jaw clenched tightly at the sound of his owner’s name. Your eyes grow wide at the new information. Five years? Namjoon was by himself for that long?

”It appears that Kim Deok-ho passed away a year after the report, due to a sudden heart attack. Since he had no relatives and has not left your ownership to someone else, you’re currently an ownerless hybrid.” You let out a shaky breath as Namjoon’s ears spring up at the information, his tail doing a half-hearted wag beneath the covers. “Based on the nurse’s reports of the old scars and marks on your arms and chest, we have reason to believe that mistreatment and abuse occurred during the ownership, and so even if someone from Kim Deok-ho’s past step forward in an attempt to claim you, it will be denied.” You slump back in your chair, desperately blinking away the tears blurring your vision. Thank god. At least he’ll never have to go back there.

”I take it that you agree with those observations?” Yeonjun gives a small smile at the relieved whimper Namjoon lets out, the wolf hybrid’s raspy yes filling the small room. Namjoon flips his hand over to grasp yours, his long fingers intertwining delicately with your own.

“Good, we’re on the same page then. The next thing we need to settle is what’s going to happen moving forward,” Yeonjun flicks over to a new page, pen hovering over the paper as he looks up at both of you. “A newly formed pack bond isn’t hard to notice when you know what to look for. I take it that you have no interest in going to the shelter?”

Namjoon brings your hand up to his chest; shaking his head as he says, “Stay with Y/n. Please.”

Yeonjun’s questioning gaze flickers over to you, and you quickly scramble out an agreement. “Namjoon can stay with me for as long as he wants,” You try your best to suppress a chuckle as Namjoon’s tail start wagging at your words, a faint blush blooming in his cheeks at the heavy thuds against the bed.

“Great!” Yeonjun smiles as he fills out his forms, “We need to do some standard background checks and we have some protocols to follow, but I don’t think there will be any issues. Just fill out this form and give it to the nurse later, and I’ll get the process started.” He places a pen and paper down on the small table near the door, giving the nurse a nod as she pokes her head in.

“We’re all done, just let me know when the form is ready,” He gives you and Namjoon a quick wave before he slips out of the door.

“Well then, I have some news too,” The nurse says. “Thankfully the operation went well, and Mr. Kim’s recovery should be fairly smooth. He’ll need to stay here for a few more days for observation as he did lose a lot of blood, but we don’t think there will be any issues,” She smiles.

“Now, since hybrids heal much faster than regular humans, we’ll have to do a few more check-ups than normal just to make sure you don’t wear the cast for too long. You’ll likely be able to remove the cast after three weeks, and then keep a brace on for a few more after that until you’re back to normal. You will be provided with a pair of crutches, but you’re stuck with bed rest for the first week to make sure you’re not putting too much pressure on your injury.” You can feel your back ache at the thought of having to spend a few weeks sleeping at the couch until you can get hold of another bed, but it’s for sure worth it if it means Namjoon will recover well.

“I think that should be all, do you have any questions?” You shake your head, a smile curling at your lips as the wolf hybrid copies your movement.

“That’s good then, I’ll leave you two be for now.” The nurse bids you both goodbye with a nod, the room falling into a sudden silence as she closes the door behind her. Namjoon flashes you a dopy smile as you turn your attention back to him. The wolf hybrid clutches your hand tightly to his chest as he shifts his upper body as close to your chair as possible, his warm brown eyes never straying from your face.

“Before I sign the papers, I just want to be sure that you’re really okay with staying with me. I promise I’ll do my best to take care of you, but Yeonjun might have some foster homes that are better suited for your recovery. My apartment is pretty small,” You grimace. You really aren’t lying when it comes to your home. Sure, you might have two bedrooms, but one of them is hardly even big enough to be a closet. It will be a tight squeeze with Namjoon while he’s injured, but you’ll manage as long as the wolf hybrid is certain.

“It’s .. okay. Want to stay .. with you,” Namjoon frowns as he works to find his words, his gaze turning a little desperate as if he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he takes too long.

“Of course. I’ll bring you home as soon as you can be discharged,” You squeeze his hand comfortingly. You can’t help but feel a little flutter of excitement at the thought of bringing him back to your apartment. “I should go fill out the form then,” You smile. Somehow, you think Namjoon will fit right in.

“Careful,” You wince as Namjoon almost stumbles into a wall, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening around your shoulders as you try your best to hold him up. If there’s anything you’ve learned over the last couple of days in the hospital, it’s that Namjoon is stubborn. And apparently, that stubbornness is only amplified when it comes to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use the crutches?” You ask as you try to fish up your keys from your pocket, the wolf hybrid’s tired breaths spilling across your neck.

“No crutches. Only need you,” Namjoon grumbles. You blame your stuttering heartbeat on the exhaustion you feel after practically carrying Namjoon from the hospital to your car, and then from your car to your apartment complex. Thank god you have an elevator, otherwise you have no idea how you would manage to get him up to the eight floor.

You let out a sigh of relief as you get your keys out, quickly shoving them into the lock to open the door. Namjoon’s ears spring up at the sight, his tail beginning to move behind his back at the pleasant smells that hit his sensitive nose. Everything smells like you, like warmth and comfort, and there’s nothing the wolf hybrid wants to do more than add his own scent to the mix, to make sure that others know that you’re taken. He hasn’t even been able to properly scent you since the woods, and the faint touches he’s been able to leave on your skin isn’t enough.

You help Namjoon step out of his shoes, carefully leading him down the narrow hallway of your apartment. “Here’s the second bedroom,” You nod to the first door you pass, “That’s my bedroom, and the last door on the right is the bathroom. The rest is an open concept living room and kitchen, as you can see.” Namjoon’s golden eyes carefully scan over your moderately sized apartment, his nose wrinkling as he picks up a scent he hadn’t noticed near the entrance.

“Dog?” Namjoon’s chest rumbles as he tries to hobble over to the couch. It takes you a second to catch on to what he said, the image of Sana and Jihyo cuddling on your couch a week back flashing in your mind as you struggle to hold him back.

“You’re supposed to head straight to bed,” You say, curling your fingers deeper into Namjoon’s side as he tries to wriggle out of your hold. “Namjoon, please,” You plead as the strain in your back begins to throb, your body definitely not made for almost carrying a fit wolf hybrid for an extended period of time.

Namjoon stops struggling at the tired tone in your voice, and you take the low whine that falls from his lips as an apology. You catch him throwing a narrowed look at the couch as he lets you lead him to your bedroom, and you make a mental note to maybe try to air the room out before he needs to use the bathroom. You didn’t even realize Sana’s scent would linger that long, but then again, she and Jihyo had spent all day glued to your couch.

“Here we go,” You carefully lower Namjoon down on your bed, helping him get situated and comfortable before propping his leg up with a few pillows. You sink down on the edge of the bed, a frown tugging at your lips as you notice how rough and threadbare the material of his clothes are. The only clothes Namjoon have are the ones he got from the hospital, but they’re obviously far from new. You were hoping to get him more situated before leaving him alone, but there’s no way you’re going to let him use clothes that seem like they might unravel at any moment when you have the funds to get him soft and better-fitting clothes.

“Would you be okay if I head out for a bit? I need to get–” Namjoon cuts you off with a pained whine, his hand closing firmly around yours as he says, “Please don’t go.” The wolf hybrid’s silver ears are flat against his head, another distressed noise rumbling out of his chest as he tries to tug you closer on the bed.

“It’s okay, I promise I won’t leave!” You say, your heart squeezing painfully at the panicked expression on Namjoon’s face. It’s too reminiscent of how he looked when you left him out in the woods, and that’s something you never want to revisit.

“We can order you some new clothes online and get them delivered here tomorrow! I’ll stay here for as long as you need me to. Is that alright with you?” Namjoon searches your gaze for a few seconds before he seems to find what he's looking for, the tension in his shoulders lessening as he rasps out a low thank you. “It's nothing to thank me for, it’s the least I can do,” You give his hand a soft squeeze.

“I’ll go make some dinner, you need to take your pain medication soon,” You can see the doubt in the wolf hybrid’s eyes, his hold tightening ever so slightly around your hand. “How about I leave the door open? You’ll be able to see me the entire time I’m cooking,” You say. It truly breaks your heart that Namjoon is so scared that you might abandon him, but can you really blame him? His first owner was abusive, and when he finally found someone – when he found you – who he felt strongly enough about to consider his pack, you had left him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon nods, his slender fingers slowly untangling from yours. The wolf hybrid’s eyes widens as you lean closer to fluff up the pillows behind his head, his tail doing a couple of surprised thuds against the mattress at the close proximity.

“Let me know if you need anything,” You smile. You can feel Namjoon’s gaze following your every movement as you cook an easy dinner, the position of your bed giving him a vantage point of both the couch and the kitchen behind it. Normally, being watched so intently would’ve made you feel a little uncomfortable, but with Namjoon, it almost feels reassuring to know the wolf hybrid isn’t letting you out of his sight. You don’t live in a bad part of town by any means, but it gives you that little extra ounce of protection you wasn’t even aware that you were craving.

“What about this one?” You only get a non-committal sound in response, and you shake your head with an amused huff as you add the sweater to your cart. Since all of Namjoon’s focus was on his food during dinner, it seems that he now refuses to look at anything that isn’t you, so that doesn’t leave you much choice but to pick out most of his clothes on your own. You had tried to keep a little distance between your bodies on your bed to make sure you couldn’t accidentally hurt him, but the wolf hybrid had gently tugged you closer with a displeased growl, not happy until your side was flush against his. You bite down harshly on your lip as Namjoon’s rough fingertips glide over the delicate skin on your wrist, the wolf hybrid seemingly more interesting in mapping out every inch of your arm, rather than what you’re trying to show him on the screen. You end up picking out some loose clothing, something Namjoon hopefully will like after not wearing clothes for years. You can tell he’s uncomfortable in the stiff hospital clothes, especially since the outfit seems to be a size or two too small. You do a last scan over your cart, happy with the assortment of soft earth tones you’ve picked out. Namjoon doesn’t strike you as a hybrid that would wear something overtly flashy, but if that’s something he wants to later, you’ll be more than happy to update his wardrobe.

“Okay, done! It should be here by tomorrow afternoon,” Namjoon perks up as you close the laptop in your lap, the wolf hybrid’s brown eyes flickering up to meet yours. You feel your breath getting caught in your throat as you take in how softhe looks, and you find yourself reaching out to brush Namjoon’s silver hair away from his lashes before you can stop yourself. Namjoon lets out a surprised rush of air at the contact, the warmth in his eyes almost scorching as he slowly moves his gaze around your face, taking the chance to drink in every detail of it. The wolf hybrid shifts his weight, and the loud creak of your bed is enough to make you hastily pull back, cheeks flushed as you stutter out a, “I-I uh, should probably get the couch ready.”

“Couch?” Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Yeah, you’re taking the bed so I need somewhere to sleep too,” You say.

“Why? Just sleep .. with me,” The wolf hybrid frowns. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it aside from sleeping, you have done it before out in the woods after all, but your stomach flutters at the words before you can reel yourself in, warmth slowly climbing up the back of your neck.

“I can’t do that Namjoon,” You mentally pat yourself on the back for how steady your voice sounds, “The woods were different. We .. we can’t do that here.” Despite feeling like you might trust Namjoon with your life if the situation ever calls for it, you don’t actually know him. The past days in the hospital have been filled with tests and interviews with Yeonjun, and so you haven’t truly had the chance to really talk to the wolf hybrid yet. You have to at least be something akin to friends before you’re comfortable sleeping next to him.

“Oh,” The disappointment in Namjoon’s voice is obvious, his expression almost turning a little shameful as his ears begin to droop. “I’m sorry,” He mutters.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? You’ve been shifted for a long time, so it’s only natural that some things are a little different between human and animal,” Namjoon nods, but there’s something in his expression that looks a little closed off now – more hesitant. “Is there anything you need before I go to bed? Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” The wolf hybrid shifts his gaze around your room, pink lips parting and closing as if there’s something he can’t quite make up his mind to ask for.

“Can I .. scent you?” Namjoon murmurs. One of your childhood friends had a hybrid, a sweet little cat hybrid that always used to scent you when you came over after school. You learned then that scenting helps hybrids to calm down and feel more comfortable around new people and places faster, which lessened the shock when you first met Sana all those years ago, and it’s also why there’s not an ounce of hesitation in your voice as you say, “Of course.” The wolf hybrid’s head attention snaps back to you so fast you’re almost a little worried for his neck.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, his warm eyes searching your face.

“I am. It’ll help you settle in here faster, right? So I really don’t mind,” You smile. Namjoon nods, pink lips pressed into a firm line as he gently takes a hold of your hand. He brings it up slowly to his face, a look of deep concentration in his eyes as he begins to rub his cheek against your wrist, making sure that he covers every visible inch of skin with his scent. Namjoon’s hold loosens ever so slightly, but just as you think the wolf hybrid is done, he leans down to swipe his tongue over your skin, leaving behind a more permanent scent mark. You bite down harshly on your lips, desperate to stifle the surprised sound bubbling up the back of your throat. The hybrids you had met before never did this during scenting. Namjoon’s ears begin to perk up the more his scent lingers on you, a content noise rumbling in his chest they begin to properly mix. Maybe it’s just a wolf thing, you decide. After all, he had scented you out in the woods in the same fashion before, so it's likely just something tied to his species that you weren’t familiar with. You allow Namjoon to switch out your hands, letting the wolf hybrid scent both of them to his heart’s content. He looks visibly more relaxed as he places your hand back in your lap, his tail beating against the bed in a steady rhythm.

“Better?” You ask.

“Better,” Namjoon confirms, a soft smile on his lips as he shifts back against the pillows. You take that as your cue to get ready for bed yourself, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Can .. door stay open?” Namjoon asks as you scoot of the bed, his eyes flickering hesitantly between you and the living room.

“It can.”

As you settle down into your freshly made couch, you can help but feel soothed at the sounds of the wolf hybrid getting comfortable in your bed. Your apartment suddenly feels a little warmer, a little more lived in, with the added noise of another person. You stare up at the dark ceiling with a smile, and the pleasant fluttering in your stomach tells you that if Namjoon decides to stay, your apartment might actually begin to feel like a home.

“Did you pick a movie?” You take a seat next to Namjoon on the couch, placing the popcorn bowl careful down between the two of you. The wolf hybrid nods at the screen, one of the newer blockbuster films already chosen and ready to be played. With his broken leg, there really isn’t much for Namjoon to do except watch movies or read, but you thankfully have a wall of books, and unlimited streaming services for him to use. The first two days of having Namjoon in your apartment were more awkward than you had expected. But then again, maybe it should have been weirder if it hadn’t, considering you had to help someone you barely know clean up and use the bathroom. It had been a learning curve to say the least; your cheeks stained a permanent pink until you managed to work out a good system. Namjoon’s new clothes had arrived quickly as well, and the wolf hybrid seemed pleased at the colours and the loose fit of the items you had chosen. You praised your own choices too; the baggy pants and slightly oversized shirts made helping him dress and undress a lot easier.

Though, there is one thing you haven’t been able to work out quite yet. Namjoon. Despite the wolf hybrid’s initial distrust of the crutches, he seems to have really taken to them now, especially once he realized that using them meant he could just trail after you himself without you having to struggle holding him up around the apartment. It is cute that Namjoon has been glued to your side ever since you arrived at your apartment, but with how he’s straining himself to hobble over to the front door every hour despite the doctor’s request of him not getting out of bed, it’s starting to worry you. The behaviour reminds you of your time spent with him the woods, and how he would constantly scout the area you travelled through for danger. You need Namjoon to relax and heal, but it’s been difficult, especially since the hybrid hasn’t said much outside of yes and no for the last four days. Before you left the hospital, the hybrid doctor you had spoken with had made it very clear that it was important to engage Namjoon in conversation, as his speech would only improve the more he used it. It’s beginning to feel more and more like you’ve just brought home a guard dog and not a person, and it makes your chest uncomfortably tight to think that Namjoon might not feel safe enough in your home to let his instincts take the back seat and just be.

You’re startled out of your thoughts as you suddenly hear a howling laughter coming from the hallway. You know it’s just some neighbours finally getting home after work, but Namjoon stiffens at the noise, ears perked in the direction of your door. It’s obvious that the wolf hybrid has the urge to protect, one hand already reaching for his crutches – so you just hope you’ve read the signs right when you hastily grab Namjoon’s hand, tugging it into your lap to cover it with your own. Namjoon freezes, his jaw clenched tightly as he slowly moves his eyes from the screen to your intertwined hands.

“Do you mind? It seems like this part is going to be a little scary,” You gesture to the action scene playing out on the TV, plastering on your best sheepish smile as you hold the wolf hybrid’s hand tighter. You feel his fingers twitch in your hold as another round of loud laughter rings out in the hallway, but to your surprise, Namjoon only takes a deep breath before he settles back against the couch. He flips your hand, easily entangling his fingers with yours as his bright eyes travel back to the screen. For what feels like the first time in four days, you can sense Namjoon finally letting his shoulders drop, his tail doing a half-hearted wag against the couch as he relaxes. The rough fingertips grazing your knuckles at random intervals keeps you distracted enough that you have no clue what the movie you just watched was really about, your hand tingling with the sensation of Namjoon’s careful touches.

As the end credits begin to roll, you turn on the couch, facing the wolf hybrid more directly as you say, “Namjoon, are you okay? You’ve just seemed a little tense and closed off these last days. I just want to make sure that I’m not doing anything that’s making you feel uncomfortable.”

“Not you, just me,” Namjoon rasps, his lips pressing into a firm line, “Don’t want to be .. too much.”

“Too much?” You frown.

“Old owner wanted me to be quiet. No scenting .. Said it wasn’t natural,” Namjoon’s ears fall flat against his head. “Couldn’t help it, was too young. So owner punished me.” The wolf hybrid’s eyes briefly flicker up to meet yours, the usual warmth hardened and cold and sad as he lowers his head as says, “Sorry. You can punish too.”

“Namjoon,” You whisper, swallowing harshly around the lump in your throat. You can feel your chest crack, eyes growing blurry as you think of a younger Namjoon. You know that all hybrids need psychical contact to stay happy and healthy, and that it’s especially important for younger hybrids to make sure that they learn about their instincts and needs. Your childhood friend’s hybrid was never denied pets or cuddles, the cat hybrid practically always glued to someone’s side because anything else would’ve been inhumane. The fact that Namjoon was abused for wanting something as harmless as a hug, or a scratch behind his ears makes you want to bring his owner back to life just so that you can make sure he receives the proper punishment for his crimes. Death seems too easy of a way out of the horrible things he did.

“I will never do that to you. You never have to worry about being too much of anything. Wanting someone to talk to and touch is completely natural,” You hesitantly bring a hand up to cup Namjoon’s cheek, lifting his head enough to meet his gaze. Your fear of Namjoon not wanting your touch flies out the window the moment the wolf hybrid leans his whole head into your palm, nuzzling his cheek against your hand as the bushy tail behind his back picks up speed at the contact. It dawns on you then, that after the first night he scented you, Namjoon had withdrawn completely. Him following you around and checking the door was probably the best thing he could to do to feel close to you while still keeping his distance – because that was what he had been forced to adapt to. You softly clear your throat, keeping your voice as level as possible as you give him a gentle smile and say, “If there’s something you want, you just have to ask. I promise I’ll do my best to make it happen for you.”

Namjoon angles his head in your palm, soft lips brushing over your wrist as he murmurs a quiet thank you into your skin. “Can I … ask you something else?” You can’t help the way your heart flips as Namjoon tries to follow the hand you remove from his cheek, the wolf hybrid letting out a perturbed whine.

“Sure,” He rasps, clutching your intertwined fingers tighter to make sure you won’t remove them too.

“How did you get caught in the trap?” You wince as your eyes drift to Namjoon’s cast. Jihyo had made some calls while you were with Namjoon in the hospital, and it had turned out that the old owners of the cabin had left out multiple bear traps many years ago. It had been so long that they had forgotten they were even there. You're honestly surprised that the trap still worked considering how rusted and old it had looked clamped around Namjoon’s leg, but then again the wolf hybrid is big when’s he’s shifted. Not the same as a full-grown bear of course, but his weight was obviously enough to set it off.

“Wasn’t paying attention,” Namjoon says. The dejected look on his face feels like someone has punched you straight in your stomach as he mutters, “Was distracted. Sad.” Because of you. ”Was going to leave when the trap stopped me,” Namjoon frowns. That explains why it took so long to find him, and why he had moved so far from where you first met him. If it hadn’t been for the trap, you likely never would’ve seen Namjoon again.

The wolf hybrid’s face is pinched as he tries to formulate the sentence in his head, the words a little jumbled but clear enough that you understand what he’s trying to say, ”Trap hurt, but you came back. So pain is okay.” For all the things you want to say, the only thing that comes out is just a saddened, “I’m sorry.”

Namjoon shakes his head. The wolf hybrid’s golden brown eyes are warmwarmwarm, his voice dripping with honeyed content as he says, “Found you, so everything’s okay now. Found my pack.” Your body moves on instinct as you shift closer, untangling your hand from Namjoon’s to gently wrap them around his shoulders. The position is a little awkward, but you couldn’t care less about the weird twist in your lower back as the wolf hybrid collapses into your embrace with a low whine, his face tucked securely into your neck. The soft fur of Namjoon's ears brush against your chin as he inhales your scent, a shaky breath escaping his lips as your calming scent washes over him. He doesn’t scent you like you expected him to; instead, he just seems happy to be this close to you, his breath spilling across your neck as he tries to press himself even closer.

“Yeah,” You breathe. It seems you both have.

It’s almost too easy to grow attached to Namjoon. The last two weeks since you brought Namjoon home has passed without a hitch, the wolf hybrid finally having settled properly into your apartment. His speech has improved drastically since you talked that night, and he’s been doing better and better for each day as he makes an effort to ask about your life, or your work. With the way Namjoon’s face lit up at the mention of your profession, it felt like another puzzle piece was falling snuggly into place. You’ve never had someone be so interested and intrigued by your writing before, but then again, you’ve never met someone who devours books in the same way that Namjoon does either. The wolf hybrid breezes through a book in only a couple of days, and the sound of paper being turned alongside with Namjoon’s low grumbles as he finds something interesting has become your new white noise as you work. You were certain you wouldn’t be able to write with someone else in the apartment, let alone the same room, but Namjoon blends so seamlessly into your life that it’s far from an issue.

But, with attachment, also comes fear. You call Jihyo on your way to the grocery store, your mind busy and your heart even heavier as you make your way through the spring rain. Like the sky, you pour out all of the insecurities and worries you’ve kept bottled up, Jihyo only spurring your rambling on with a few encouraging noises.

“I’m scared,” You admit. “Is it weird how fast we’re moving? The more I get to know him the more it feels like he was always supposed to be there.” Jihyo lets out a low hum as she thinks.

“I don’t think so Y/n. Sometimes you just find people you click with, there’s nothing wrong with that. And it’s not like you’ve only been hanging out for an hour every now and then, you’ve been living together for two weeks. It’s understandable that you would grow close a little quicker than normal.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” Jihyo adds, as you keep silent.

“No .. I just don’t want him to regret anything. I’m the first nice human he’s seen in years, I’m just scared that his affection is a little misplaced,” You grimace.

“That may be, but Namjoon is still capable of making his own choices. The people at the hospital treated him nicely, and you don’t see him rushing to come home with them.” You can hear Jihyo’s teasing smile through the phone.

“I guess,” You mutter. Despite his initial hostility toward the staff, Namjoon had opened up after the first day there. He had stopped growling and trying to bite the doctors' hands off, and he had even offered the kind woman that checked upon him the most a sweet smile after she had brought him his dinner.

“There’s no guarantees in life Y/n. You don’t know if Namjoon will change his mind in a week, or a month or a year. But I do know that you would respect his wishes and let him go if it ever comes down to that. I think Namjoon knows that too, and that’s why he’s not afraid to open up to you. Because you genuinely care about him,” Jihyo voice is soft through the phone. “You have no guarantees, but some things are worth the risk.” You didn’t even have to think twice to know that Namjoon was worth it. You already knew.

You briefly glance up from your computer as a steaming mug is placed next to it, the wolf hybrid giving you a dimpled smile before he hobbles back to the couch. You raise the cup to your mouth; a relieved sigh leaving your lips as you inhale the strong aroma of the coffee Jihyo gifted you last month. You hold back a groan as you take your first sip, the strain in your eyes already feeling a little more bearable due to the hybrid’s sweet actions.

Namjoon does this a lot, you’ve come to realize. Even with his injury, the wolf hybrid tries his best to do little things for you. It’s everything from bringing you coffee when your energy starts running out, to organizing your scattered notes, to tearing you away from your unfinished chapters when the words just won’t flow anymore. Your cheeks are honestly starting to ache from the smile that seems to be constantly tugging at your lips. You take another sip of the hot beverage, nearly choking on the burning liquid as you notice the two new emails in your inbox. You open the hospital email first, the standardized note doing little to calm your nerves as you skim through the reminder of Namjoon’s appointment next week. You know the wolf hybrid is itching to get the heavy cast off in exchange for a lighter brace, so he’ll be happy to know that his leg is healing as it should be.

You push through the light tremor in your hands as you go to the next email, Yeonjun’s name creating a flurry of nerves to erupt in your stomach. You haven’t formally adopted Namjoon yet. The papers you signed were for a temporary stay while the shelter did more extensive research into your funds and background, so the notice you’ve been waiting for since you left the hospital is finally here. You’ll finally know if you've passed their tests or not. You hastily click the message before you can talk yourself out of it, your eyes scanning frantically over the page until you find the section you were looking for. You slump back in your chair, eyes growing wide as you read the same sentence over and over. You’re eligible to adopt Namjoon if he wants to stay with you.

“Hey Namjoon,” You grin. The gray ears on Namjoon’s head perk up at the sound of his name, the wolf hybrid’s bright questioning eyes meeting yours as you say, “How do you feel about steak tonight?”

“Smells good,” You swear you almost have a heart attack as Namjoon sneaks up behind you, the wolf hybrid sniffing the cooking meat over your shoulder. You have no idea how he manages to be this quiet with crutches.

“Good! They should be done in a few minutes,” You say as you flip the steaks over, turning down the heat to make sure they don’t get burned. You can feel the heat from Namjoon’s body lingering behind you, the wolf hybrid still rooted in place. You bite back a surprised squeal as Namjoon’s arm wraps around your waist, tugging you back a small step so that he can hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You stiffen as Namjoon’s husky voice brushes against your ear, a shiver running down your spine at the close proximity. You’re no stranger to hugging or holding hands after living with Namjoon for two weeks, but this feels more .. intimate. Different.

“Of course,” You say. You suck your lower lip between your teeth as Namjoon’s fingers spray across your waist, the firm grip making your head spin as he begins to rub his cheek along your shoulder. Oh, you realize. He’s scenting you. So far Namjoon has only scented your wrists, and you understand now why he decided to limit himself to that, because this – this just feels like so much more. The wolf hybrid lets out a pleased huff as he moves to nose along your throat, his soft hair tickling your neck as he does his best to cover your scent with his own.

You can feel your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touches, your head tilting to the side to allow Namjoon more access to your skin. You feel the rumble in Namjoon’s chest before you hear it, and it quickly dawns on you that you have once again barred your neck to the alpha, submitted, as teeth begin to nip at your sensitive throat. You clutch the spatula in your hand like it’s a lifeline, trying your best to focus on how the metal is digging into your skin rather than how Namjoon’s fingers have started trailing up and down your waist, leaving fires in their wake. You’re doing good, you think. Just don’t think about it. It’s natural, it’s okay–

Your eyes fly open as Namjoon’s tongue drags over the gentle bite marks on your skin, a choked whine escaping your throat. The wolf hybrid stills against your neck, lips resting against your throat as his tail wags furiously behind his back. You can’t tell whether it’s Namjoon’s or your own heart that’s beating so harshly against your ribcage, the wolf hybrid’s naturally woodsy smell making you feel lightheaded at how tightly it’s wrapped around you. You both stand frozen in place, embarrassment beginning to creep up your chest as Namjoon rubs his cheek against your shoulder one last time, his voice deep and raspy as he says, “You smell good.” You offer him a dazed nod, not trusting you voice. Your eyes stay locked on the slightly charred vegetables as the wolf hybrid pulls away. You can hear him clearly now, how he slowly moves his way back to the couch. You let out shuddering breath once you deem him far enough away, forcing your knees to stop shaking and the butterflies in your stomach to calm down as you finish preparing dinner.

“I have something to ask you,” You say. You figure you might as well bite the bullet considering you’ve only been pushing your food around for the last five minutes. Namjoon gives you an encouraging smile around the food in his mouth, his ears perked and attentive.

“I heard back from the shelter today,” You pause as Namjoon’s eyes widen, his jaw working furiously to get rid of the large piece of steak in his mouth. You stifle a snort, resting your chin in your palm as you wait for him to finish.

“Go on,” Namjoon swallows harshly. “Yeonjun told me that everything checks out. My income and credentials are good enough to officially adopt you,” You say. “That is, if you want me to?” You hastily add, a sliver of fear rushing through your veins as the wolf hybrid’s face becomes hard to read.

“Do you?” Namjoon asks.

“Want to adopt you? Yes. I know I might not have the most space to offer you, but there’s nothing I’d love more.” The thought of Namjoon leaving you makes your chest feel hollow and tight, but at the end of the day, it’s the wolf hybrid’s decision. Namjoon regards you silently for a few more seconds, his brown eyes searching your face one last time before his own crumbles with relief.

“Then adopt me. Please,” He rasps, “This is more than enough, I just want to stay with you.” You can’t hold back the smile that blooms on your face, a matching grin tugging at Namjoon’s lips as you say, “Deal.”  

It isn’t until later, when you go to bring out your sheets from your closet that Namjoon stops you. The wolf hybrid is resting on the foot of your bed, his fingers loosely clasped around your wrist as he says, “Stay.”

He clears his throat at the confused look in your eyes, his ears shifting nervously as he nods to the bed. “I know your back hurts from sleeping on the couch, and I promise I’ll keep to myself. Just .. sleep here with me?” You cast an uncertain glance at your bed, trying to calculate just how much space there will be between the two of you. Your back is sore, and the long hours working at your desk don’t exactly make it better. You have ordered a new bed for the extra bedroom, but that has yet to arrive. You probably should’ve realized the website was a little shady considering just how good of a deal the bed was. You sigh.

“I’ll stay.” You’re tired of feeling like you’re seventy years old when you wake up, and your back really needs some proper rest. You help Namjoon manoeuvre under the covers before you get yourself ready for bed. It feels weird slipping into it with Namjoon already there, the wolf hybrid giving you an amused grin at the groan that escapes when your back hits the soft mattress. You can feel the tenseness in your muscles melting away as you drag the duvet up to your nose, your hand blindly reaching for the bedside lamp until the room is plunged into darkness.

“Good night,” You whisper.

“Sweet dreams Y/n.” The warmth and security of Namjoon’s body being so close to yours drags you under before you know it, and truth be told, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well.

You huff as you drag the heavy laundry basket from the spare bedroom. The new bed you ordered has been sitting inside the room for a week, but it has yet to be used. You and Namjoon came to a silent agreement to just forget that it’s even there. As you drag the basket into the living room, you find your gaze automatically drifting to the wolf hybrid. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch Namjoon lean against the balcony, the wolf hybrid bathed in golden light as the sun begins to set. Namjoon turns slightly, his ears picking up a sound you can’t hear from inside the apartment. The wolf hybrid’s eyes flutter as a soft gust of wind ruffles his hair, his tail wagging slowly at the fresh air. Still, you know it’s not enough. It’s the faint frown on Namjoon’s face that fuels your guilt, because despite his reassurances that this is all he needs, you know it’s a lie. He’s a wolf hybrid. He needs more space, he needs fresher air, and he needs the forest. He’s not made to live in an apartment in the middle of a bustling city, and especially not after living by himself for years out in the wilderness. This may be all he needs, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t happy.

Now that the weather has begun to grow warmer, Namjoon has started spending more and more time on your balcony. It’s been five weeks since the accident, so the bulky cast on his leg is switched out for a lighter brace, but his leg still isn’t strong enough to actually go for a walk outside. You think you both have started to go a little stir-crazy after hardly leaving the apartment for so long, but thankfully the doctor let you know at the last check-up that he can likely remove the brace and start using his leg slowly from next week. Yet, the parks around your area can’t compare in the slightest to the woods around Jihyo’s cabin. Namjoon is his own person, but with the papers you signed last week, he’s now also partially your responsibility. And you just want to do what’s best for the both of you.

You shake your head, huffing out a low curse as you bring the laundry to washing machine inside your bathroom. You chew mindlessly on your lip as you think, getting a little lost in your own thoughts as you watch the clothes being tossed around inside the machine. The soft flesh is almost bitten raw as you come to a conclusion. You don’t need the city in the same way that the wolf hybrid needs the forest. In all honestly, you’re starting to grow a little sick of the constant noise. The only thing you need is good Wi-Fi and well .. Namjoon. You close the bathroom door behind you with a firm snap, the guilt in your stomach slowly turning into excitement as you watch Namjoon push away from the balcony and make his way inside. You think you know how to fix this.  

Namjoon lets out a strained huff as he shifts on the couch. You can feel your concentration slipping further with each movement, the words in front of you bleeding together as you lose your place for the tenth time in the last thirty minutes. You know the wolf hybrid is anxious to get the brace off, but he literally only has to hold on for twelve more hours until it’s time for his appointment. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he keeps his book in his lap, his neck bent at an awkward angle as he tries to continue reading it. The wolf hybrid’s chest is falling and rising a little heavier than normal, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he keeps squirming, his gold tinted eyes nearly burning through the pages with the intensity in his gaze. You place your book down on the couch with a sigh.

“Namjoon,” You can feel your heart still in your chest as the wolf hybrid’s dark eyes

immediately fly up to find yours, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he has around the bound pages. “You know it’ll be easier to read your book if you– Oh,” Your mouth runs dry. You had snatched the book out of Namjoon’s hand to bring it up higher, but it didn’t quite cross your mind that maybe it had been placed there .. strategically. Namjoon is big, and the thick bulge straining against the gray fabric of his sweatpants leaves absolutely nothing to your imagination.

Your forcibly tear your eyes away, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you hastily flip the book around to get a proper look at the cover. It appears that Namjoon must’ve found the books you had stashed away in the other bedroom, those that are just tastefully decorated porn. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Namjoon’s voice is caught between a growl and a whine, the sound strangled and unsure as he reaches for his crutches, “I’ll just uh, go take a cold shower.”

“Do you want me to help?” You snap your mouth shut, horrified at the words that just bypassed your filter. The crutches scatter to the floor as the wolf hybrid turns back to face you, his voice breathless as he says, “What?”

You carefully place Namjoon’s book down on the couch, unsure if you should take the out he inadvertently just gave you. You know this is going into territory beyond just friends or roommates, but then again, your relationship is already a little too intimate to just call it that. But, you still don’t know if that’s because Namjoon has been depraved of human touch for so long that he’s trying to catch up to everything he missed out on, or because he actually likes you. You’ve already accepted your growing feelings for Namjoon, but you’re not sure this is a risk you’re willing to take. You should probably pretend that this never happened. You jump as Namjoon gently tilts your head up, his golden eyes dark as he says, “Y/n, what did you ask me?”

Or maybe, for once in your life, you should take a risk. The wolf hybrid’s gaze follows your throat as you swallow dryly, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you softly repeat, ”Do you want me to help?” The low growl that spills from Namjoon’s mouth makes your thighs clench.

“Fuck,” Namjoon curses, the dark look in his eyes growing wilder as he rasps out a strained, “Please.” Your knees hit the floor before you can even think about it, and another low growl rumbles in Namjoon’s chest as you look up at him.

“Your leg,” You eye the awkward way Namjoon has twisted himself, the wolf hybrid letting out an impatient huff as you wait for him to settle down properly on the couch. You slowly trail your fingers up his good leg once he’s situated, the injured one resting on the coffee table behind your back. You shuffle forward until you’re properly kneeling between Namjoon’s outstretched thighs, your hands resting on the firm muscles.

You keep your eyes locked on the wolf hybrid as you ease your hands up under his baggy shirt. You suck in a breath as you feel the taut and defined abs underneath your fingertips, the muscles jumping as you explore Namjoon’s body. You knew that the wolf hybrid was in good shape after being so active for many years, but the extra food and proper nutrition he’s been getting ever since you brought him home has really filled him out in the right places. You push Namjoon’s shirt up as your fingers trail higher, the firm skin making you bite back a moan. Namjoon is absolutely ripped. Goosebumps rise on Namjoon’s skin as he lets your hands slide across his stomach, the heavy breaths falling from his lips hitching as they glide down down down until your fingers are hooked into the waistband of his sweats. His hips rise off the couch enough to help you pull them off, and the wolf hybrid hastily works his good leg out of the material to give you more room. Namjoon’s hard cock is straining against his boxers, a patch of pre-cum already seeping through the material.

”Fuck, you’re big,” You breathe, biting down harshly on your lips as the wolf hybrid’s cock twitches at your words. Namjoon lets out a raspy whine as you press soft kisses to the inside of his thighs, not stopping until you reach the dark fabric clinging to his hips.

”Is this still okay?” You check, your cunt clenching around nothing as you look up to see how just wrecked Namjoon already looks. The wolf hybrid’s pupils are blown wide, and the veins in his arms look like they’re ready to pop out of his skin from how tightly he’s gripping onto the couch. Namjoon barely manages to nod before he throws his head back with a moan, your hot breath spilling across his skin as you lean down to mouth at his clothed cock. You lick against the already damp material, your nose trailing along the thick length. It doesn’t take long before Namjoon’s chest rumbles, his voice low and deep as he says, ”Y/n, no teasing.”

A shot of arousal travels down your spine at the wolf hybrid’s dominating tone, and you waste no time pulling his boxers down his legs, Namjoon quickly stepping out of it like he did with his sweats. Your nails dig lightly into the wolf hybrid’s thighs as you take in the sight of his cock, the thick and long length making your eyes widen. Namjoon is so big you can’t even properly close your fist around him, his shaft already glistening with pre-cum. You quickly rub your thumb across his slit as another drop forms, using it to coat the rest of his length as you lean in closer, just enough to press feather light kisses to the head of it. The wolf hybrid gasps at the contact, and you peak up to find his eyes shut tight, a light sheen of sweat on his face as he strains to hold himself back from touching you, tail wagging wildly behind his back. You press another kiss to the pinkish head of his cock, the pressure a little firmer as you open your mouth enough to take him in, swirling your tongue around the tip.

”Fuck, you feel so good,” Namjoon moans. His thighs clenches at the wet hotness around his cock, fingers twitching by his side as he digs them into the couch cushions. You begin to push down further on his length, trying your best to relax your throat as you slowly bob your head on Namjoon’s cock, hand stroking the rest of it to match the rhythm of your mouth. You moan as you feel the heavy weight of the wolf hybrid’s cock resting on your tongue, the slightly salty taste only spurring you on further as you tighten your lips around him. You slide your free hand up his thigh, grasping his tense fingers to bring them to your hair. You can tell Namjoon was itching to touch by the way he immediately gathers your soft locks between his fingers, curling them until he has a nice grip behind your head.

”Baby,” You look up just in time to meet Namjoon’s hooded gaze, a whine pressing up your throat at the desperate hunger in his eyes. The vibrations makes the wolf hybrid’s hips jerk, the sudden motion making you choke as his cock brushes against the back of your throat. The grip in your hair tightens as Namjoon tries to pull your back, but the apology dies on his lips as you deliberately swallow him down even further, refusing to let him tug you off.

“Look at you,” The wolf hybrid groans, ”You were made for this, weren’t you baby?” You can only hum in response, Namjoon’s words making your cunt throb with need as you futilely try to rub your thighs together to create some friction. The wolf hybrid’s hand follows the movements of your head as you up your pace, your lips coming down to touch the fingers wrapped around his base as you take him in faster. Your name rolls of Namjoon’s tongue like a prayer as he watches you swallow down his cock, his abs clenching as you don’t let up on the speed.

”Fuck, your mouth looks so pretty stuffed full of my cock,” Namjoon growls. Trying to not choke on the stiff length in your mouth has distracted you enough that you don’t notice the weight forming underneath your fingers until you’re staring down at a fully formed knot. You don’t have much time to think about it before you feel Namjoon’s grip in your hair tighten, his chest rumbling as he helps you swallow down another inch of his cock. You’re almost at the base, almost touching his knot with only a couple of fingers between the taut skin and your lips.

“I– shit, I'm not going to last.” Tears spring to your eyes as you hum around the wolf hybrid’s length, the vibrations making Namjoon’s breaths turn harsher, louder, as your determination grows. You can feel Namjoon’s impending orgasm before he even manages to stutter out a broken warning, the grip in your hair bordering on painful as you suck harder, your tongue dragging along his length one last time before you feel the knot under your fingers begin to throb.

”Oh, fuck– Baby,” You cling to Namjoon’s toned thighs, nails digging into his skin as you feel the first burst of cum hit your throat. The wolf hybrid’s hard cock pulses as he lets out a loud moan, the tail behind his back stilling as he releases his load. You whimper as you feel spurt after spurt trail down your throat, breathing becoming more and more difficult until you’re forced to pull back to swallow it down easier. You gently bob your head, hand once again stroking Namjoon’s length as you coax him through his orgasm.

“Y/n,” Namjoon whines, his legs beginning to tremble from overstimulation as you swipe your tongue one last time over the head of his cock, swallowing down the last of the salty substance lingering in your mouth. You can feel the wetness between your own legs as you pull back to press a chaste kiss to Namjoon’s knee, the wolf hybrid loosening the grip he has on your hair to gently massage his fingers into your scalp. A blowjob has never left you so turned on before, but as Namjoon’s gentle touches against the dull stinging in your scalp continues, the throbbing between your legs is forced to take a backseat as your heart overflows with fondness at how he always finds a way to take care of you too.

You glance up to find Namjoon’s warm eyes already looking at you, the hunger in them still there. ”Let me return the favour,” Namjoon rasps as the hand in your hair glides down over your shoulders, all the way down to the hand resting on his leg. You want it so bad, but– ”Later,” You wince at the hoarseness in your throat, gently patting Namjoon’s injured leg as you say, “Let’s save it for later when your leg has healed.”

”Hmm, you better baby,” The air gets knocked out of your lungs at the smirk Namjoon gives you, the points of his canines just poking out over his lips as he leans back to catch his breath. You take the moment to marvel at the golden skin under your hands, at how Namjoon’s muscles dance underneath your fingertips. Baby. It makes your head swim in the best way. You grin as you trail a finger over the wolf hybrid’s softening cock, Namjoon’s good leg kicking out in protest as you touch the sensitive skin. He’s still dripping, the knot at the base of his cock almost gone. You push up from your knees with a soft groan, but Namjoon catches your hand before you can leave, his gray ears pulling back.

”Where are you going?” The worry in his handsome feature is obvious, and you reach out to smooth the furrow between his brows.

”I’m just going to get a towel to get you cleaned up,” You smile. You can tell the wolf hybrid is still reluctant to let you go, but he eventually relents, squeezing your fingers before he releases it.

You almost grimace at your own reflection as you run the towel under the lukewarm water. You look absolutely wrecked.Your hair is a mess, and you quickly splash some water on your face to attempt to make yourself look a little more presentable. Namjoon cleans himself up quickly as you go to grab something to soothe the rasp in your throat, the wolf hybrid readjusting his sweats around his hips as you settle down next to him.

”Namjoon–” Your breath hitches as he suddenly leans in, the wolf hybrid’s hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he places soft pecks against your lips. You melt into his touch, eagerly moving your mouth against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers curling into the long hair at his nape. A pleased rumble sounds from Namjoon’s chest as you open you lips enough for his tongue to meet yours. You allow yourself to drown in Namjoon – the gentle touch on your cheek and the passionate kisses pulling you under until your mind grows hazy, your lungs screaming for air when you finally break away from his lips.

The wolf hybrid wastes no time moving his lips down your jaw, pressing gentle pecks against your skin all the way down to your neck. Namjoon’s tail wags steadily behind his back as he inhales your scent, the soft kisses turning into nips and licks as he marks your throat. You try your best to get your ragged breath under control as Namjoon takes his time scenting your neck. The wolf hybrid presses a kiss just below your ear; his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he murmurs out a fond, “I like you so much.”

”What?” You squeak, your eyes growing wide as you tug Namjoon back. Even if this is what you’ve been dying to hear, you can’t help but feel a little anxious. Anxious that this might be a mistake, that Namjoon’s affection might be a little misplaced, but still– ”I like you,” He repeats, the confidence in his voice wavering as he says, ”I don’t want this to just be a one time thing. I want this – us – to be more.”

You find yourself nodding along to Namjoon’s words before he’s even finished, a shy grin blooming on your face as you say, ”Me too. I like you too, so much.” Namjoon’s face lights up like the sun at your confession, his ears perked and his tail moving so quickly behind his back you can’t even keep track of it. The pure adoration you find in the wolf hybrid’s eyes make you flush, but Jihyo’s words keep you from pulling away. You have no guarantees that this will work out, but you know that you would be a fool if you don’t even try.

”Good,” Namjoon grins. You card your fingers through Namjoon’s silver locks, just high enough to scratch gently behind one of the wolf hybrid’s ears. Namjoon turns into putty in your hands, his head slumping against your shoulder to allow you easier access to his ears as he lets out a pleased noise. You let out a small giggle, brushing your lips against his cheek as you whisper, ”Good.”

“So ..” You extend your arm behind you, watching Namjoon intently as you say, ”What do you think?” The wolf hybrid’s head tilts as he takes in his surroundings, his gray ears twitching as he tries to pinpoint where all the different sounds are coming from. You’re standing in front of a quaint little cottage in the woods, about an hour drive away from the city and your current apartment. You had fallen head over heels for the property the moment you first saw it, the beautiful stone and wood building screaming your name as you had clicked through the photos. It does need a little TLC, but it’s nothing you and Namjoon can’t fix. The cottage looks like a dream with the lush trees and colourful flowers encasing it, and you can’t help but think that this is the home you’ve been waiting for. The wolf hybrid’s face is unreadable as his golden eyes scan the area, but you notice that his tail twitches, as if he’s trying to hold himself back from getting excited.

“What’s this?” Namjoon strides around the car with ease, no trace of his injury left as he intertwines your fingers with his.

“Well, it’s ours. If you want it,” You bite down on your lip in anticipation as surprise flickers across Namjoon’s face, the wolf hybrid quickly moving his gaze back to the cottage, and the dense woods behind it. “I do,” Namjoon breathes, a brilliant smile settling on his face, “It’s perfect.”

“Oh thank god,” You sigh dramatically, collapsing against the wolf hybrid’s side as he rolls his eyes. He quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder, tugging you close enough to nose against your neck.

”But are you sure you want to leave the city?” Namjoon says, his tone a little worried at the prospect of you leaving everything you have behind.

You circle your arms around the wolf hybrid’s waist, shifting your position enough to allow you to look up at Namjoon’s face as you say, ”I can write anywhere. The only thing that I need is you,” You rise slightly off the ground, just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. ”And good Wi-Fi,” You add with a grin.

Namjoon snorts as he dips his head down to fit his lips properly against yours, the kiss lazy and sweet as the early summer breeze ruffles your hair. The last four months have thrown you for a loop you never could have expected, but as you stand here with Namjoon, you realize that maybe that’s the beauty of it all. Life might be uncertain, but what isn’t, is that you love Namjoon, and Namjoon loves you back. And that’s all you need to know.

a/n: it took some time but out of the woods is finally finished! i really hope you enjoyed wolf!namjoon’s solo story, he’s really just a big babie and he deserves the best. :( if you liked the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖 i would really appreciate the support!

[sarasapen]

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

-------

 You were a fraud.

 Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

 Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

 Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

 It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

 Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

 “You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

 Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

 His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

 You scowl.

 He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

 “Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

 You’d let him do anything.

 You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

 He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

 When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

 Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

 And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

 Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

 You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

 And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

 Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

 You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

 Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

 You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

 Hold on.

 You loved him.

 You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

 “What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

 Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

 “She seems nice.”

 FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

 “She… The Duchess?”

 “Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

 “Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

 “You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

 “Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

 There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

 “What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

 “Do you love her?”

 You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

 “...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

 “Used to?”

 “It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

 It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too. 

 “So… what? You decided to give her up?”

 He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

 But you’re the exception.

 You’d always be his only exception.

 So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

 There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

 “Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

 “No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

 And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

 “Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

 Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

 “Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

 It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

 Your eyes fly open at his words.

 “If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

 Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

 “Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

 “Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

 Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

 Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

 Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

 Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

 You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

 He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

 And…there.

 You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

 The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

 You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

 It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

 So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

 And then you’re meditating.

——

 “It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

 “You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

 “I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

 “Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

 “Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

 “A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

 Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

 A dinner.

 It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

 And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

 Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

 Then you see her.

 She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

 “The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

 He’s looking at you.

 You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

 Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

 “If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

 It’s strange, you think.

 The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

 Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

 No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

 “The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

 Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

 He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

 You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

 And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

-----

The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

-----

Obi-Wan taglist:

@allinmymind @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mugoi-usagi @babymango-writes @fluffyhales @whinsical-ash @filthy-thots @altarsw @mando831 @ruleroftides @soft-and-lush @softlikefairydust @bumblegadget @stafskislava @torihester @shedobeclownin @satikryze @buwnni @mando-amando @mrskenobi19 @butch-medusae @fandomtrxshh @a-c-lee @neji85 @reejero @silverpuppi @thereluctantherosrose @shinybananapastanickel @hey-there-angels @grumpymuffinmama @hufflingpuffling-blog1 @kyle9no @qt-ane @arsowon @aesthelliec @lovelyweepingrebel @marvelranger @lovelylostminds 

[kuroos-babie]

Falling in Love with a Single Mom HCs

Sakusa x fem!Reader | Kita x fem!Reader | Tendō x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons/MiniFics ]

Request: LOVED YOUR FALLING IN LOVE WITH SINGLE MOM HCS SHAKAKAOXVAIAL MOSTLY BOKUTO’S AHDIWIXBSIAO!! CAN I REQ THEM WITH SAKUSA KITA AND TENDOU?? TYSM 🤩🤩 —anonymous

a/n: once again,,, i love these hcs so much but i feel like omi was kinda ooc im so sorry (╥﹏╥) i hope u like these still!! i really enjoyed writing these, pls do tell me what you think (~￣³￣)~

❀ he's been watching you for a while now— his team's manager

❀ everyone knew you've recently became a new mom— as well as how your child's dad went MIA a few weeks after you gave birth, left a note breaking things off with you and saying he wasn't ready to be a dad

❀ you usually had your mom or a relative take care of your baby while you went to work, but this time no one was available so you had to bring your son with you

❀ standing by the corner of the crowded cafeteria, he kept on glancing at you obviously struggling to pacify your baby

❀ he didn't like the piercing cries of the child in your arms so he decided to help you, or so he convinced himself

❀ in reality, he couldn't take seeing you so panicked anymore— it agitates him so much

❀ he was trying to remember what komori taught him about babies as he walked over to where you stood

"have you tried feeding it?" he asked nonchalantly, standing a good foot away from you as he tried to peer over your shoulder

"him" you replied, exhaustion and frustration dripping from your tone, "and yeah, i just did"

you sighed

"give me"

it wasn't everyday that sakusa offered help so you jumped at the opportunity, supporting your child's neck and back as sakusa took him, doing the same

❀ he laid the baby on his chest, gently tapping at his back

❀ after a few moments he let out a small burp the baby not sakusa skdka

❀ he handed your child back to you, now silently chewing on his hand, saying he "just needed to burp"

❀ your face felt hot, embarrassed that you had no idea

❀ sakusa just placed a hand on your head and smiled behind his mask before leaving, he knows you needed all the help you can get right now and he, albeit wordlessly, made sure you're aware that he's willing to provide that help

❀ since then he regularly drops by your apartment and helps you clean and take care of your baby saying he's just making sure there weren't any germs near the kid

❀ lets you take naps as he watch your kid— but not before taking a bath, he has spare clothes in your closet

❀ the team notices how he's always over at your place

"omi-kun you're always over at y/n's, might as well move in with her"

"if she wants me to, i don't see any problem with it" he said so casually it made you whip your head to his direction

"do you... want to?" he looked away from you without an answer, avoiding your eyes, "omi-kun do you want to move in with us?"

"i said, if you wanted to" he replied, still avoiding your gaze and cheeks tinted red

❀ you met him at the wet market; well, your daughter did

❀ you noticed her run off while you were buying ingredients for your lunch and stocking up your fridge, quickly trying to catch up to her

❀ she was giddily running around, little 3 year old legs not taking her too far before bumping into a stranger's leg

❀ falling to her bum, your daughter looked up to see brown eyes looking down at her

"i'm sorry, are you alright?"

he helped the child up, holding her steady as he dusted off her bottom

by the time you caught up with the both of them, he already had your daughter in his arms, asking her where her mom was with a smile

"there she is!" she said with a giggle

"baby, what did i tell you about running off on your own?" you scolded her with a tired smile as kita handed her over to you, thanking him kindly

❀ after that encounter, he started to notice you more and more; in the wet market, around the neighbourhood, and in the topics of local grannies

❀ you moved in recently, shortly after your daughter's dad bailed out on the both of you, leaving you to raise her alone; or so he's heard

❀ he would always give you a soft smile and an acknowledging nod whenever you two see each other

❀ it wasn't until his grandmother asked him to bring over some vegetables to your house that he had the chance to have an actual conversation with you

"gran wanted you to have this"

"oh thank you very much", you beamed at him while taking the basket, "do you maybe want to come inside? i'll prepare some tea"

he was about to decline the offer, but the joyful look on your child's face the moment she sees kita convinced him to do otherwise

❀ the two of you talked over tea and snacks while your daughter sat on his lap, playing with his large hand

❀ you couldn't help but smile at the both of them, your daughter never one to be this playful with others, kita didn't seem too bothered either

❀ time passed and kita needed to go back home, much to your daughter's dismay

❀ he didn't want to upset your kid too much so it was decided he'll come back soon to play with her

❀ it became a regular thing for kita to stop by your house on his way home from the fields— spending time with you and your daughter slowly becoming routine

❀ he adored your child's little giggles and the way she insisted having him wear the flower crown she made, glancing at you to see you laughing at the sight had him imagining what life would've been like with the two of you

❀ till he realized he was already living that life— looking forward to seeing you both after a hard day of work at the fields, being greeted by warm smiles and a hug, eating dinner together and sharing laughter

❀ it seems like granny wouldn't have to wait too long for a grandchild

❀ he noticed your 2 year old boy looking—staring, at him from across the restaurant he was having lunch at

❀ so of course he decided to make faces in an attempt to make him laugh

❀ he wiggled his eyebrows at the toddler, waving his hands and cooing— though he wasn't sure if the baby even hears him

❀ the boy decided that tendō pulling at his ears and sticking his tongue out was a winner, letting out a short giggle

❀ you had your back to tendō so you were surprised to see your child laughing when you looked up from your meal

❀ turning around to see tendō making the silliest face, you couldn't help but laugh as well, your son finding it absolutely hilarious and is squealing in delight

❀ tendō's face heated up in embarrassment from being caught but he laughed along nonetheless, shaking his head as you waved your son's tiny hands at him and mouthing 'hello'

❀ he thought you two were adorable so he decided to come up to your table

"you babysitting your nephew? or is that your baby brother?"

you chuckled at him, "he's my son"

"oh"

the redhead's brain buffered for a few moments, "i should get going then, don't wanna offend someone" he laughed awkwardly, hand scratching at his nape

"oh no, it's fine. you're not offending anyone" his eyebrows raised at your reply's implication, "mind taking a seat? my baby seem to like you"

"your baby has great taste" tendō smirked as he slid to the seat opposite yours

"so it seems" you said with a tone that sent a blush straight to his cheeks

❀ the afternoon ended with your number saved on tendō's phone under the name cute baby('s) momma🥺

❀ he texts and calls All The Time; asking how your kid is doing and wanting to see the both of you

❀ after a while of talking and going out, you asked him if he wanted to come over to your place for a visit and he was simply ✨ecstatic✨

❀ spent the whole afternoon crawling around your living room chasing your son, squeals and giggles echoing throughout your house

❀ you've never seen your son be this comfortable with anyone that isn't you and you're just grateful that tendō adores your child as much as your child adores him

❀ when tendō walked up to you— your son in his arms, sleeping soundly on his shoulder, you offered to take the child but he refused and opted to pull you close with his free hand

❀ he leaned against the kitchen counter, both you and your son in his arms as you asked him in a whisper, "can you stay?"

❀ understanding what you meant was more than staying for the night, he answered with a definite "for as long as you want to, of course" before pressing a kiss on your temple

taglist: @churochuu @bakarinnie @faithieeee @strawberriimilkshake @paulazockt @pattys-got-cakes @hidden-otaku-stuff @haikyuubabie @shou-kunn @your-local-abyss @stcrryskies

✨send me an ask to be added/removed!✨

[pupvivi]

Nayeon thinking she had a shot with Momo since she moved in only to see her balls deep in Sana when she wanted to get some boxes of Momo’s stuff.

ASFFHJLL

Nayeon agreeing to help Momo get her things from Sana's place since she's been lamenting about going alone. They've been broken up for a few weeks now, and while Momo has been taking it pretty rough, at least she has Nayeon to rely on. Nayeon has been very gracious as a host too, making sure Momo feels welcomed in her place.

Nayeon has been enjoying having Momo over a well, often looking forward to whatever her now roommate has been cooking to while she's at work. Sometimes sending her photos of Boo when he does something really cute.

Having Momo stay with her was a guilty pleasure, one that she wasn't going to elaborate on and risk spooking get long time friend. She understood that people need time to be single.

But nothing could have prepared her eyes for the sight before her. Momo asked Nayeon to drop by after work to help her pick up a few things from Sana's apartment. She was expecting to get there around the same time as Momo, but her car was already parked when she got the to complexes parking lot.

Nayeon took the stairs instead of using the elevator, and arrived shortly to Sana's door. Usually she would have knocked but Sana knew to expect Momo and Nayeon to be in and out of the place, so she turned the knob. The door slid open with ease, and soon Nayeon was inside.

It was relatively calm inside, some drama playing on the TV, and the smell of leftover something greeted her nose. But no sign of Momo. The boxes she wanted were still by the door. Momo's shoes also by the door.

Taking a steady breath, Nayeon invited herself even further inside the apartment. There wasn't anyone in the kitchen, nor the living room. Which only left one place. Part of her hoped that Sana was just asleep while Momo was using the rest room. But she knew better.

The sound of panting reached get ears first, followed by a moan. Assist her better judgement Nayeon peaked inside and was met with the sight of Momo jogging her hips, rutting so desperately against Sana. Her groans sounding so needy, and Sana was bent over the bed, ass up, encouraging Momo to keep fucking her.

Both of them were still clothed, just exposed even to let the act of sex happen. Nayeon wished she could look away, they were both her friends, even though the claimed to have broken up. She knew make up sex when she saw it, and Nayeon clenched hungrily and jealously knowing her chance with Momo was gone.

Sana wasn't going to let her go. So she watched on, her fingers clenching around her shirt.

Momo continued to fuck Sana like her life depends on her, her strokes familiar and fast. Unwilling to fully pull out, as if fearing the second she does, Sana wouldn't want her anymore. "F-fuck..." Her balls gave a heavy throb, signalling she was close. "I wanna cum in you." She whined.

Sana wasn't fairing any better, having Momo fucking her like this made her eyes flutter. No toy could replace her, and she couldn't even remember what the cause of them breaking up was. Each thrust was enough to make Sana rock back, her pussy ruined by Momo's thick cock. "So do it." She hissed back.

Nayeon's bottom lip was going to burst of she bit down on it any harder. She shouldn't watch this, she knew it wasn't good for her heart but still she watched on as Momo stilled her hips, her balls emptying themselves in Sana.

"We should clean up before Nayeon gets here." Momo broke the silence, even thought she was still hunched over, pressing kisses to Sana's neck. "Or maybe I should tell her I'm staying?" She asked, far more hopeful than intended.

But Sana shook her head. "No, I still need space."

Nayeon just barely caught the tail end of their conversation as she carefully left. She could still play this off like she was caught in traffic. She just needed to go downstairs and calm herself down. The ache between her legs wasn't helping one bit.