#saving this here for me to find it later >:)

[sugarwarachan]

18+ - older roommate! aizawa *barks*

you've only been aizawa's roommate for a couple months, but it's long enough to develop an absurd crush on him. he mostly keeps to himself, although lately he's taken to bringing you extra blankets when you fall asleep on the couch watching atla re-runs.

personally, you find it impossible to ignore him. he's broad and gruff and just manly in a way that makes your thighs press together whenever you see his chest hair poking out of his sleep shirt.

(the first time you saw the happy trail ducking into his sweatpants, you waited for him to leave for work before fucking yourself on the thickest dildo you own. you saw the outline of his cock; you know he's hung.)

the only saving grace of working your thankless job is that you can work remote, which usually leads to late nights hunched over the desk, blearily sorting data in cells.

just like how it is tonight, music blasting in your ears and an excel spreadsheet four inches away from your nose.

a hand falls on your shoulder.

flinging your headphones off, you whirl around to see aizawa backing away from you with his hands held up in surrender. he points at his ear. "your music will blow out your eardrums."

god, he's such a fucking dad sometimes.

(you do not let that thought linger longer than it has to.)

your voice comes out squeaky. "you scared me half to death!"

his lips quirk up, and fuck him for still being devastatingly handsome when he looks bone tired. "i should have announced myself. you okay?"

you rub your neck, one eye on the computer. "yeah, i'm fine."

aizawa zeroes in on the movement. "does your neck hurt?"

you can't help laughing. "i'm wound tight as a drum, so it's kind of par for the course."

he steps forward. "where does it hurt?"

"ummm..." your brain short-circuits. "sort of around here?" you gesture vaguely between your shoulder blades. "it's always the worst at the end of the day."

"turn around for me real quick, y/n."

you obey, and immediately, strong fingers sink into the muscles on either side of your neck. you shiver in his grasp at the unbelievable relief in tension.

"feel good?"

he's joking, right?

you manage a nod as he continues to work out the knots along your spine. "it feels really good."

he says nothing in reply, just keeps working the delicate muscles in your neck and shoulders until you're practically as loose as melted wax.

(later, when you've gone to bed, aizawa finally unbuckles his pants and releases his cock, flushed red and sticky with pre-cum and so sensitive to the touch that the second his palm slides over the shaft, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from cumming all over his belly)

2025 © all works belong to me, @sugarwarachan! do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. because this is a community and community thrives off interaction, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged!!! <3 and last but not least, f you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know!

general taglist <3 @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi, @waterfal-ling, @iluvikeu, @bach-ira

[ateezscupid]

─── 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝒀𝑶𝑼.. ꕮ 004 ─ Pretty Boy.

SUMMARY / Yunho is overcome with emotions after killing yet another woman, and finally reveals his childhood to you. Despite the fear that he might hurt you, you feel an undeniable pull towards him.

WARNINGS ✩ SMUT, FLUFF, Sensitive Topics!! (death, murder, stalking), Yunho kills another girl when his urges become too overwhelming, he trauma dumps on reader (talks about his lore!! omg!!), dom!yunho, switch!reader, unprotected sex, slightly rough sex, choking, oral (f receiving, while bent over the sink!), overstimulation

WORD COUNT ✩ 6.0k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @lezleeferguson-120 @hwallazia @hoe4yunho @prettylilack @lustfxq @shownumiss @hwxbibi@nneteyamss @joonhasjiminsjams @herpoetryprincess @napipope-ta @wyrated @leeseokiwi @trinityobsessesovatings @kittykat-25 @yourallaround-simp @ewsnup @kysstar @tunafishyfishylike @hwxbibi @hannieblue128 @piecessoull @heiswan

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST / REQUEST ─── Next Chapter ౨ৎ 

NOTE !! okay, yess, in this chapter he's a little bit of rough dom.. but it wouldn't hurt to have JEONG YUNHOO throwing you around

Yunho told you he had some last minute work to do. You told him you understood, that you didn't mind waiting a few hours for him to come back.

You should've insisted he stayed.

Here he was, in an alleyway, the smell of stale beer and trash heavy in the air, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leaned against the cold brick wall, the neon lights from the nearby nightclub casting eerie shadows across his face.

Down at his feet lay the body of some random girl he met off the dating app. He had hoped she'd be different, that she'd be the one to save him from his own monstrous urges. But she was just like all the others—screaming, crying, and begging for her life. He had felt nothing but a cold detachment as he ended her. The guilt didn't come until later, when he was alone in the quiet of the night, surrounded by the echoes of his own rage.

He stared down at the body. The girl's wide, unseeing eyes seemed to look directly at him, as if questioning why she had to be the one to die. His hand trembled, the phone in his grip, and he swiped through the messages, finding yours, a beacon of light in the darkness. He had killed again, unable to resist the urge that had been gnawing at him ever since he met you. You had unknowingly become his obsession, and he feared you might be his next victim.

It was 12:04 am. The streets were deserted except for the occasional car passing by, casting a brief glow before swallowing the night back into darkness. Yunho's heart was racing, his palms slick with a mix of sweat and the girl's blood. He had promised himself that you would be the one to save him, that he wouldn't let the monster within him claim anyone else. But tonight, the hunger had been too strong. He had tried to resist, but she had just been too… convenient.

Yunho told you he had some last minute work to do. You told him you understood, that you didn't mind waiting a few hours for him to come back.

You should've insisted he stayed.

Here he was, in an alleyway, the smell of stale beer and trash heavy in the air, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leaned against the cold brick wall, the neon lights from the nearby nightclub casting eerie shadows across his face.

Yunho told you he had some last minute work to do. You told him you understood, that you didn't mind waiting a few hours for him to come back.

You should've insisted he stayed.

Here he was, in an alleyway, the smell of stale beer and trash heavy in the air, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leaned against the cold brick wall, the neon lights from the nearby nightclub casting eerie shadows across his face.

Down at his feet lay the body of some random girl he met off the dating app. He had hoped she'd be different, that she'd be the one to save him from his own monstrous urges. But she was just like all the others—screaming, crying, and begging for her life. He had felt nothing but a cold detachment as he ended her. The guilt didn't come until later, when he was alone in the quiet of the night, surrounded by the echoes of his own rage.

He stared down at the body. The girl's wide, unseeing eyes seemed to look directly at him, as if questioning why she had to be the one to die. His hand trembled, the phone in his grip, and he swiped through the messages, finding yours, a beacon of light in the darkness. He had killed again, unable to resist the urge that had been gnawing at him ever since he met you. You had unknowingly become his obsession, and he feared you might be his next victim.

It was 12:04 am. The streets were deserted except for the occasional car passing by, casting a brief glow before swallowing the night back into darkness. Yunho's heart was racing, his palms slick with a mix of sweat and the girl's blood. He had promised himself that you would be the one to save him, that he wouldn't let the monster within him claim anyone else. But tonight, the hunger had been too strong. He had tried to resist, but she had just been too… convenient.

He thought about calling you, but you were probably asleep, and he didn't want to wake you. Not like this. Not when you didn't know the truth. Yunho took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had killed again, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you found out.

Get it together. He had to get it together.

He peeked over the wall. Nobody was around, meaning nobody heard or saw what happened. He had checked for cameras prior to strangling the girl, ensuring his secret remained buried beneath the layers of his flawless façade. The quietness of the alley was a stark contrast to the thumping bass and laughter of the nightclub just a block away. He had hoped the music would drown out her screams, but the sound of her life leaving her body had echoed in his ears long after the final gasp.

1:29 am.

Yunho pushed his keys into the door. He stepped inside, the quietness of the apartment a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. He could see the light from your bedroom, a sliver under the door, indicating you were still up. His hands were shaking as he peeled off his blood-stained gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, before making his way towards your room.

You stirred as he entered, the soft light of your bedside lamp casting a warm glow across your sleepy features. "You're back," you murmured, a hint of disappointment in your voice that he got back so late.

"I know, I know, I'm late." Yunho's voice was strained as he approached the bed, the weight of his confession heavy on his shoulders. "I had to… handle something."

"'s okay." you slurred, crawling to the edge of the bed and holding your hand out. "Come here."

Yunho's shoulders dropped, and he felt the burden of his secret slip away, if only for a moment. He kicked off his shoes and shuffled closer, climbing into bed with you. You curled into him, your warmth seeping into his cold skin. He took a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo grounding him.

"Why do you smell like weed and sweat?" you whispered into the silence, your eyes still closed.

"Some…co-workers were smoking and I was sweating because I rushed to get here," Yunho lied, his voice tight. He hadn't expected you to be so perceptive, and he certainly hadn't planned on telling you anything about his past tonight. But as you nuzzled closer, the exhaustion of maintaining his façade took hold of him, and the words spilled out.

"I missed you," you mumble into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around him tighter. Yunho's chest tightens, a mix of affection and guilt washing over him.

He hadn't planned on telling you about his past tonight, but the words seem to spill out of their own accord. "I had a rough day," he starts, his voice low and gruff, "but it's nothing compared to what I've been through."

"What does that mean?" you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him. Yunho sighs, his hand running through his hair, his eyes avoiding yours.

"It means I've done things," he says, his voice tight. "Things that people like us shouldn't have to go through."

You gently push his hair out of his face, your fingers caressing his cheek. "You can be honest with me. I'd never judge you or think…bad of you because of what you went through. It's not your fault." Yunho's eyes finally meet yours, and in them, you see a storm of pain and turmoil.

He starts to speak, his words slow and measured, as if each one is a confession pulled from the deepest, darkest part of his soul. "I grew up in a bad neighborhood. My mom did what she could, but she was never around. And my dad…" he trails off, his jaw clenching. "He was a… monster. He taught me how to fight, how to survive. But he also taught me how to-- how to hurt, I guess."

You listen, your heart breaking with every word. The warmth from your hand on his cheek feels like a lifeline, grounding him in the present, keeping him from slipping into the abyss of his past. "I don't remember much before the age of seven. That's when everything started to get…blurry." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in the dim light. "Things got better when my mom remarried. But the damage was already done."

You can feel the tension in the room thicken, the air charged with his pain. "What happened?" you ask softly, not wanting to push, but needing to understand.

"He'd get drunk, and when he was drunk, he'd…he'd hurt us," Yunho's voice is barely above a whisper. "My mom did her best, but she was scared too. I had to protect her. And when she couldn't… I had to protect myself." His eyes are haunted, staring at a memory that wasn't in the room with us, but was all too real to him.

"What did you do?" you whisper, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "To protect yourself, I mean."

Yunho takes a deep, shaky breath. "I learned to fight back. I learned to make sure he never laid a hand on either of us again." His eyes are distant, lost in the shadows of his memories.

"What- what does that mean, Yunho? Like, literally, what did you do?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly. You could feel the gravity of his confession, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him.

He looks at you, his expression a tumultuous mix of fear and hope. "I… I killed him," he says, his voice barely audible. The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with the unspoken understanding that things have changed between you.

You stared at him, your eyes wide with shock. "Your dad? You killed your dad?"

Yunho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "It was the only way to stop him. After that, things got… complicated." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. "But that's not all of it."

"You…killed your dad." you blanked at the worst possible moment, your mind racing to catch up with what he had just said.

"It was an accident," he rushed to explain, his hands fidgeting nervously. "He was hurting my mom, and I… I just snapped. I didn't mean to, but it happened." The confession hung in the air, a stark contrast to the gentle rhythm of your breathing.

"What did you-- um, what did-- how did you do it?" your voice trembled slightly, the question barely leaving your lips.

Yunho's eyes searched yours for a moment before he spoke, his voice low and hollow. "I just… I didn't realize how strong I was. I pushed him away from her, and he stumbled back and hit his head on the corner of the table." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It was so fast. And he just… didn't get back up."

You sat up, your eyes never leaving Yunho's as he spoke. The room was silent except for the faint sound of the clock ticking in the hallway, each second echoing like a judgment. His story was like a dark tapestry, each thread weaving into the next, painting a picture of pain and survival that you hadn't expected to see. You felt your heart break for the little boy he had been, the one who had to become a man too soon.

Without warning, you pull him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his waist. "Oh, Yunho," you murmur into his chest, your voice thick with emotion. His body tenses for a moment before he relaxes into your embrace, his arms sliding around your shoulders. It's strange, how your hearts can be beating so close together while feeling so far apart in terms of what you've each experienced. But here you are, sharing the most intimate of moments.

"It wasn't your fault." You whispered the words against his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He stiffens for a moment before his arms tighten around you. It was the first time you had seen him so vulnerable, so broken.

Yunho's breath hitched, and you felt his shoulders begin to shake. He was crying, silently sobbing. The strong, stoic man you knew was crumbling before your eyes, and all you could do was hold him. It was a stark reminder that everyone has a past, and some demons refuse to stay buried.

"Thank you," he choked out, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Nobody's ever said that to me before."

"Well, I love you. And I would never in a million years tell you that you deserved that. Because you didn't." You spoke softly, your voice a balm to his soul. The words were simple, but to him, they were a lifeline thrown into the stormy waters of his guilt.

Yunho's grip on you tightened, and he buried his face in your neck, his hot tears soaking through your shirt. He had never allowed himself to be this weak in front of anyone, especially not in the arms of someone who had the power to either save him or bring him down. But with you, he felt… safe. Like maybe, just maybe, you could understand.

"It hasn't gone away." Yunho's voice was a mere whisper in the stillness of the room. "The… the urge to hurt. To fight. It's always there." His confession was raw, a stark revelation of the monster that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

"The urge to…kill?" You ask tentatively, your voice trembling slightly. The word felt like a betrayal to the comfort you had been offering just moments ago.

Yunho nods, his face buried in your hair. "But I want to get better for you. I don't want to be this person anymore."

You stroke his back gently, the gravity of his words weighing heavily on your heart. "I believe in you," you whisper, unsure if the words are enough to banish the darkness within him.

Yunho pulls back, his eyes red and wet with unshed tears. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do." you smile gently, wiping the tears from his cheek. "And I'm here for you. We'll figure it out together."

Yunho looks at you, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. But all he sees is compassion and understanding. It's a feeling he's not used to. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking.

"Sorry?" You ask, your voice filled with genuine confusion. "For what?"

Yunho sighs heavily, his eyes searching yours. "For everything. For being like this, for bringing you into my mess." His hands trace over your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear.

"Oh god, Yunho, shut up. To be here comforting you is all I want to do," you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. It works. His shoulders relax a little, and he manages a small smile.

"Have you eaten?" you ask, changing the subject, trying to give him a break from his confession. You can't help but worry about the weight of his words, the gravity of his past, but you know pushing him too hard would only make things worse.

Yunho nods, his expression still haunted. "Yeah, I grabbed something quick."

"Noodles?" You ask, your voice gentle, trying to keep the conversation light. Yunho nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I bought a couple bowls from the corner store a few hours ago when you left."

Yunho sighs, his eyes searching yours as he sits up, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay," you reply, your voice gentle. "I'm just here for you."

Yunho's eyes searched yours, looking for any signs of fear or judgment, but all he saw was acceptance. It was a feeling so foreign to him that it was almost overwhelming. He hadn't expected you to take the news so well, and a part of him wondered if this was all just a twisted fantasy, a brief reprieve from the harsh reality of his existence. But your touch was real, your warmth seeping into his bones and chasing away the chill that had taken residence in his soul.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, the gesture simple but filled with love and understanding. "Let's go get some noodles," you murmured.

The two of you left the bedroom, the hallway's light a stark contrast to the intimate darkness you'd shared moments ago. The apartment was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. In the kitchen, you filled two bowls with the steaming noodles, the aroma of the spicy broth filling the air. Yunho watched you, his eyes never leaving yours, as if you were the only thing keeping him anchored in the present.

"What are you starin' at?" you giggle, snapping him out of his trance.

"Just making sure you're real," Yunho smiles sadly, taking the bowl of noodles from your hand. "It's just… I've never had anyone understand me like you do."

You hand him a pair of chopsticks, your heart aching for the pain he's been carrying for so long. "I'm here, Yunho," you assure him, sitting down at the table across from him. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Yunho nods, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he takes the chopsticks. The two of you dig into the noodles, the steam rising to mingle with the tension that still hung in the air.

"You know, these noodles are really good," Yunho said, slurping a mouthful, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I think I'd prefer to watch you eat."

You blushed, your cheeks warming at his flirty tone. "What makes you say that?"

Yunho smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You have a cute way of slurping them," he teased, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You're one to talk," you said, slurping a mouthful of noodles. The sound echoed in the kitchen, making him chuckle.

"Maybe I just like watching you blush," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. The flirtatious banter was a welcome change from the heaviness of his confession. For a brief moment, you could almost pretend that the world outside didn't exist, that the only thing that mattered was the two of you sharing a simple meal in the quiet of the night.

"Well, you're not too bad at it yourself," you retorted, taking a playful bite of your noodles. Yunho's smirk grew wider, his eyes dancing with amusement. "But seriously, these are amazing. What's the secret?"

"I may trust you, but not with my secret recipe." You laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you twirl a strand of noodle around your fork. The sound of your laughter is like a balm to his soul, a gentle reminder that there's more to life than the darkness he's been drowning in.

Yunho shakes his head, grinning. "I'll just have to steal it, then," he says, reaching over to swipe a noodle from your bowl with his chopsticks. You squeal playfully, slapping his hand away.

"Hey!" you protest, laughter bubbling up in your throat. "Those are mine!"

Yunho laughs, his eyes lighting up with genuine amusement. "You snooze, you lose," he says, popping the noodle into his mouth. You can't help but smile, the heaviness of his confession momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your shared laughter.

After you both finish eating, you collect the empty bowls and take them to the sink. The sound of the water running is soothing, a gentle reminder of the normalcy that still exists amidst the chaos of his life.

Yunho watches you wash the dishes, the way your hands glide through the soapy water, the soft curve of your back as you lean into the task. His gaze is intense, a silent confession of his thoughts.

"What's up?" you ask, catching him staring. You turn off the faucet and dry your hands, turning to face him.

"Nothing, you're just…" Yunho's voice trails off as he tries to find the right words. "You're just… you."

You turn to face him, your smile fading slightly as you see the intensity in his gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Yunho stands from his chair, walking over to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. "It means that you're… everything." His voice is low and earnest. "You're the first person who's ever accepted me for who I am, even with all the shit I've done."

You lean back against him, his warmth enveloping you as his hands roam over your body. He kisses the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of your collarbone.

"Really? You wanna kiss my neck while I'm elbow deep in the dishes?" you giggle, your voice playfully sarcastic, but the way your body responds to his touch betrays your true feelings. His hands are warm and firm, the gentle strokes sending shivers down your spine.

"I wanna kiss every inch of you," Yunho murmurs, his breath sending delicious shivers down your neck. You lean back into him, his arms wrapping around you from behind, pulling you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up to your chest, his hands move underneath your top, taking in handfuls of your breasts. "And I'm not just saying that because you're covered in noodle soup."

You giggle, feeling your cheeks flush at his bluntness. "Well, I'd hope not," you say, your voice teasing as his thumbs trace circles around your sensitive nipples. He nibbles on your earlobe, sending sparks through your body. "You're a hornball."

"Only for you," Yunho whispers, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees wobble. He kisses along the side of your neck, his teeth grazing the skin. "You have no idea how much I want you."

"You gonna bend me over the sink?" you tease, your voice breathy with arousal as you feel his growing hardness pressing against your back. Yunho chuckles, his hands continuing their journey over your skin.

"If that's what you want," he whispers into your ear, his breath sending goosebumps down your spine. "You know I don't mind."

You bite your lip, the thought of him taking you right here in the kitchen sending a thrill through your body. "What if I want something… a little more… intimate?" You lean back into him, your body arching slightly as his hands wander lower, slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts.

"Intimate, huh?" Yunho's voice is a low purr as he unties your shorts and slides them down your legs. "No underwear… you planned this."

You step out of the pool of fabric around your ankles, the cool kitchen floor a stark contrast to the heat building between your thighs. Yunho's hands are everywhere, spreading your thighs apart as he gently pushes you against the sink. The cold porcelain sends a shiver through your body, making you gasp as he kisses along your shoulders, his hands skimming over your hips.

"Fuck," you moan softly, placing your hands on the wall in front of you so you didn't fall face first in the sink. The cold porcelain was a stark contrast to the heat building in your core as Yunho's mouth found yours, kissing you deeply. His hands slid down your body, caressing every curve, every inch of skin. He kissed down your neck, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

"Please," you murmur, your voice needy and desperate. "I need you, Yunho."

He nods, his eyes dark with desire as he knelt behind you. With surprising gentleness, he moved your legs apart, his warm breath ghosting over the back of your thighs. "You're so perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with need.

You lean over the sink, your heart racing as you feel his hot breath between your legs. "Yunho…" you whisper, your voice shaking with anticipation. Feathered kisses fall across the backs of your thighs, moving closer to the juncture of your thighs. Your core clenches, eager for his touch.

"You're so wet," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that sends a tremor through your body. You bite back a whimper, your knees threatening to buckle as his tongue traces a line from your entrance to your clit. You've never been so exposed, so vulnerable, but with him, you feel… safe. Desired.

You pulled your sleeves over your hands, trying not to look into the sink as you were bent over. The kitchen light was harsh, but it was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Yet, as Yunho's tongue found your clit, you couldn't help but arch your back and moan. The sensation was overwhelming, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out too loudly.

"Mm, you taste so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you in place as his tongue danced over your folds. You could feel him smiling against you, his eyes watching your body twitch.

"Oh god, Yunho," you gasped, your hands curling into fists as you felt the beginnings of an orgasm build. He was relentless, his mouth working you like he had nothing else to do but make you come. And in that moment, maybe he didn't.

His tongue swirled around your clit, the pressure increasing until you thought you might pass out. "Please," you begged, your voice shaking. "I'm gonna…"

His fingers dug into your ass, spreading you open as he feasted on your wetness, his tongue flicking and stroking with expert precision. You moaned, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the sink, the cold metal pressing into your skin. The sensation of his mouth on you was heavenly, a stark contrast to the horror of his past and the fear of what might happen if anyone found out. But in this moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his tongue, the gentle scrape of his teeth, the way he knew exactly how to make you feel alive.

You placed your hand on the wall, bracing yourself as Yunho's tongue delved deeper, swirling and stroking with a hunger that made you quiver. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he feasted on you. The sound of his eager slurps filled the kitchen, mixing with your breathy moans. Your legs felt like jelly, but his firm grip kept you steady as he worked his magic.

"You're gonna make me come," you whispered, your voice shaky with need.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yeah," you say breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation. "L-Like it."

Yunho's chuckle turns into a groan of pleasure as he dives back in, his tongue lapping at your folds with renewed enthusiasm. You're so close, you can feel it. Your toes curl and your hips rock back, pushing into his face. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he takes you to the edge.

"F-Fuck! Fuck, oh my god!" you cry out as you feel the orgasm crash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Yunho's tongue laps up your juices, his grip on your hips tightening as you come undone in front of him. Your legs are trembling, and your grip on the sink is the only thing keeping you upright. He pulls back, his mouth slick with your essence, a smug smile on his face as he looks up at you.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He says, his voice low and smug.

He flipped you around, the smugness in his eyes unmistakable. "Better?"

"Oh my god, it's all over your chin." you giggle, using your sleeves to wipe his face. Yunho smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as you clean him up. The moment is surprisingly intimate, a stark contrast to the raw passion that just played out between you.

"Can we fuck now?" You ask, your voice a mix of sass and need, your legs still wobbly from the orgasm that had just ripped through your body.

Yunho chuckles, standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Always eager, aren't you?" He nuzzles into your neck, his breath tickling your ear.

"You know it," you murmur, your voice a seductive whisper. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you over to the couch. He lays you down, his body pressing into yours, and you can feel his hardness through his pants.

He grabs your hand and places it on his bulge. "Feel that?" His voice is gruff, his eyes dark with need. "It's all for you."

You nod, your cheeks flushing as you stroke him through the fabric of his pants. "I want you," you murmur, your voice a soft invitation. Yunho's smile turns feral as he undoes the button of his jeans, sliding them down his hips to free his erection. He slides his jacket off, tossing it aside. His shirt follows, revealing the toned chest you had explored the night before.

He pushes you down onto the couch, his hands rougher than the gentle caresses from the previous night. You don't protest, instead arching your back and spreading your legs for him. He grabs your hips, aligning himself with your entrance, and without preamble, he slams into you. You gasp, the suddenness of his thrust taking you by surprise. It's rough, almost violent, but it's what you crave in this moment.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his teeth clenched as he starts to move. His strokes are deep and demanding, each one pushing you closer to the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back. "You're mine," he says, his voice a growl. "Mine to fuck, mine to protect, mine to love."

"F-Fuck, y-yes!" you gasped, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness. The pain was exquisite, a stark reminder of his dominance over you. His hips rocked into yours, setting a punishing rhythm that had you seeing stars.

"You like it, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "You like it when I fuck you hard."

"Yeah," you panted, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain. "I f-fucking love it, oh my god."

Yunho smirked, his strokes becoming more aggressive. "You're so wet, baby," he murmured, his hips slapping against yours. "You want it, don't you?"

"Y-yeah, want it," you stuttered, your voice thick with lust. "Harder, please."

Yunho's eyes flashed with desire, his grip on your hips tightening. "You got it, baby," he growled, his hips pumping into yours with a ferocity that had your eyes rolling back into your head.

You grabbed onto the armrest behind you, your nails digging into the fabric as Yunho's thrusts grew more powerful. "F-fuck, y-you're so big," you stuttered, the pleasure bordering on pain.

"Mm, you're so tight," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "So fucking tight." His voice was low, a deep rumble that vibrated through your core.

"Y-Yunho, please," you whimpered, your body writhing beneath him. "M-More,"

"More?" He smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he slows down his pace. "You want more?"

You whimpered in response, your body begging for more as Yunho's grip tightened on your hips. "Y-yes," you panted.

"Tell me," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear. "Tell me what you want."

His thrusts slowed as he whispered in your ear, his hands roaming your hips and ass, squeezing and caressing as he watched you squirm. "What do you want?" His voice was a mix of amusement and lust.

"Harder," you whimpered, your legs tightening around him. "More."

Yunho chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer. "You're so greedy," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tickling. His hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking your nipples.

"But you love it," you shot back, your voice breathless with desire. He smirks, his hips rolling into yours in a slow, taunting grind. "Don't you?"

"Maybe," he says, his eyes never leaving yours as he adjusts his angle, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. "But I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck," you gasped, your body arching off the couch as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Yes, right there."

"Good girl," Yunho murmured, his strokes growing more deliberate. "Keep talking dirty to me."

You nodded, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Y-yes," you managed to get out, your voice trembling with every thrust. "I love it when you… w-when you talk like that."

Yunho's smirk grew wider, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to pick up the pace again. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "What do you love about it?"

You bit your lip, trying to form coherent thoughts as he rocked into you. "I-I love… how you make me feel," you stuttered, the words barely escaping your mouth as your body was wracked with pleasure. "How you take… take what you want. E-Even though you didn't do that before-"

"Felt like being in control," Yunho murmured, his eyes darkening with desire. "But you like it rough, don't you?"

"So do you," you panted out, your eyes locked onto his as you felt another orgasm building within you. "I like it when you're in charge."

"Yeah?" he tilts his head, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

"Y-Yes-" you tug on his arm, arching your back off of the couch and moaning. "F-Fuck, don't stop!"

Yunho chuckles, his lips grazing against your ear as he sped up his thrusts. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel your orgasm building, the tightness in your stomach unfurling into a warm, delicious ache. You bite your lip, trying not to scream as he hits that perfect spot again and again.

He holds the back of his head, his other hand digging into the couch cushion next to you, his breaths coming out in pants and grunts. You wrap your legs around him, your heels digging into his back, urging him on. His movements become erratic, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

"Yeah, baby," he murmurs, his voice strained with effort. "Take it all."

"Oh my god," you murmur, your voice a mix of pleasure and disbelief as Yunho's strokes become more deliberate. The room falls silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the wet slap of your bodies coming together. You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you.

"You're so close," Yunho whispers, his voice a gentle rumble in your ear. His thumb finds your clit, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby."

You nod, unable to form words as the pleasure builds. You tighten around him, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Yunho's grip on your hips turns bruising, his strokes quickening. "Cmon, you got it." he whispers, his voice a gentle coax.

You bite your lip, nodding again, your eyes squeezed shut as the waves of pleasure crash over you. He's right there with you, his breathing shallow and fast, his hips stuttering as he nears his climax.

He continued rubbing your clit, his strokes matching the rhythm of his hips as he talked dirty in your ear. "So good, baby," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You're gonna come so hard for me again, I know you can do it."

It was too much to handle, the pleasure building so fast and intense. You could feel it coiling in your stomach, reaching for that peak that seemed to elude you. Your nails dug into the couch cushions, your body taut as a bowstring.

As your second orgasm started to build, the overstimulation hit you like a truck, your body tightening around him like a vice. You could feel him swell inside you, his breaths becoming more ragged. His eyes never left yours, a silent communication passing between you. You both knew what was about to happen, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

You shut your eyes tightly, arching your back off of the cushions and clawing at the armrest behind you, your other hand grabbing his wrist, the wrist of the hand that was on your clit. Yunho's strokes grew faster, his breaths coming in hot, harsh pants against your neck. "Almost there," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

You couldn't even speak anymore, the pleasure was too intense. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you nodded as best as you could, letting your body do the talking for you. Yunho's hips rocked into yours, the friction building with every thrust. "Good girl," he murmured, his thumb still working your clit. "You're so close."

You inhaled sharply, cursing his name as you came a second time, squirting around his cock, the warmth of your release coating him. His eyes widened, a groan escaping his lips. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, his strokes becoming erratic as he lost control, releasing deep inside of you.

You laid there, panting heavily, your legs trembling around his waist. Yunho leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, his breaths matching yours in their desperation. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, your eyes still squeezed shut. "So… so good."

"I love you," Yunho whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. You look up at him, the intensity in his eyes making your stomach flip.

You bite your lip, smiling dazedly. "I love you too.."

[mortish-writes]

​You wake in a frozen wasteland, abandoned, hungry, and with no memory of who or what you are.

Two enigmatic and powerful men find you in the snow. They take you in and keep you warm. Try as you might to resist them, it isn't long before you lose your heart and your virtue...

The third moonday of the Bride of Shadows rework is now available on the public build.

Learn new lore.

Banter with Serax.

Have your first encounter with Kerach.

Sink into your third dream and choose your patron goddess.

Mature female-protagonist interactive romance novel, 18+

[Play the Public Build]

​

My computer broke last week. Thankfully it's all fixed as of yesterday and most of my data was saved to the cloud, but I'm still in the process of getting all of my programs re-installed and trying to figure out which email/password combos I used for various sites. Bear with me while I get my stuff sorted and I'll have an estimated date for the next update later this week. I have a big backlog of messages, I'm not ignoring anyone, I'm just running a little behind schedule and I'll answer everything once I'm caught up.

For those who haven't seen it yet, I'll be posting the dynamics guide here on Tumblr in a little bit. That will give you a comprehensive breakdown on how the new romance system works.

-Mortish

[nebulablakemurphy]

Illicit Affairs (Part 2)

Summary: Fifteen years ago Haymitch Abernathy devised a plan to save both his tributes from the arena. As Y/N and her district partner, Tyson, continue to play out their roles as Star-Crossed lovers, things become more complicated. Warning: implied sexual content, alcoholism, drug use and infidelity. It’s more of an open marriage really.

Part 1

A week later, Haymitch shows up at Y/N’s door. Taking her up on the ‘family’ dinner offer.

The woman who answers is not Y/N, her long dark hair is held away from her face in a low bun, secured at the nape of her neck. Sporting a simple blue dress, she looks entirely at ease. At home even. “Haymitch, wow. Nice to officially meet you, I’m Perry.”

“Haymitch,” he takes her hand, shaking once before releasing it.

“Thanks for coming, Y/N wasn’t sure you would.”

“Is she here?”

“Of course! Come in, dinner’s on the table.” She swings the door open a bit wider for him.

Dinner is a full spread, prepared by Perry herself. With Tyson’s help of course.

Y/N’s husband pours Haymitch a glass of their best wine, a gift from the Capitol to celebrate their anniversary. “This is immaculate. Aged to perfection, made from the sweetest berries in Panem. Smell it.”

“I’m not smelling it.” Haymitch doesn’t even give a shit what it tastes like, so long as he’s drunk enough for this.

Tyson laughs, shaking his head. “Alright.”

Victor watches on, from his seat. “Hi, Haymitch.”

“Hi.”

The boy smiles, kicking his legs beneath the table.

“Stop,” Darling chastises. “Be still.”

“You doing alright over there, Darling?” Haymitch asks.

“It’s not polite to squirm at the table.”

“Well it’s just us for now.” Haymitch reminds her, though the table is set for many more. “I won’t tell.”

Darling visibly relaxes, shoulders sagging, elbows propped up on the table. “It’s different in the Capitol.” The days are long; expectations rigid. She has to be perfect, never a hair out of place.

Haymitch stiffens, “I know, but you’re safe here.” You’re safe with me. “Worry about being a kid, ok?”

Darling nods, “ok.”

When Y/N emerges from the washroom to find Haymitch at the table, her stomach flips again. This time with nerves, instead of nausea. “You came.”

“You asked me to.” Haymitch murmurs.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Y/N says, taking the seat directly across from him. “This looks amazing.” Y/N smiles, taking in the arrangement of food.

“Only the best for you.” Tyson crosses the room to her, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head.

Haymitch clears his throat, stealing a glance at Tyson’s guest, in the corner. Their public display of affection doesn’t seem to phase her.

The Carells and Undersees trickle in. Filling the obscenely long table, from one end to the other.

Tyson waits until everyone is settled to rise from his seat, glass in hand. A toast. “Now that everyone is here, Y/N and I have some big news.”

The room falls into silence, waiting on bated breath.

“You wanna tell them?” Tyson asks, staring down at Y/N.

She schools her expression to one of excitement, taking his hand in hers. “We’re having a baby!”

“I knew it.” Tyson’s mother rejoices, coming around the table to embrace her daughter-in-law. “You’re glowin’.”

Y/N relaxes into her arms, for just a moment. “Thank you, Ma.”

Y/N’s mother, father and sister appear to be the only one’s to abstain from the celebration; besides Haymitch.

Her father scowls at Haymitch, with a shake of his head. He knows. Surely Tyson’s family does too, but they don’t seem to mind.

Tyson’s mother returns Y/N to her son, who is raining kisses over the entirety of Y/N’s face. “Love you so much.”

Y/N smiles, “love you.”

Perry watches on, stroking Darling’s hair. Not nearly as uncomfortable as Haymitch is. Perhaps she is used to this, maybe she knows something he doesn’t.

“Smile, Haymitch.” Darling insists. At all of ten, she is the spitting image of her mother, with her father’s features peppered in. “My parents are having a baby.”

Haymitch blinks at her. Sweet little girl who used to crawl across his lawn when her parents turned their backs for a second… The child he once held in his arms, schooled so heavily into obedience, she performs without a camera in sight.

“Haymitch, Haymitch!” The little boy is bouncing beside his chair.

“Yeah?” Haymitch allows Victor to climb into his lap.

“I want a brother.”

“I’m not sure why you’re telling me, kid. But I hope you get one.” Haymitch tells him. “I had a brother growing up.”

“Where is he?” Victor asks. “He can come too.”

“Victor,” Y/N waves a hand at her son.

“No, Y/N.” Haymitch says, “it’s ok.”

“I don’t want to make you more sad.” Victor stares down at his hands.

Haymitch ruffles his blonde hair. “I’m not sad.”

“You look sad.”

“Victor.” Tyson calls him over, “come on, buddy.”

“I’m gonna head out.” Haymitch excuses himself from the table.

“Wait.” Y/N calls after him.

Logically he knows she wouldn’t invite him here for this. To shove it in his face. “The food was exceptional, but the wine,” he pauses, tossing the rest of it back. “Not nearly strong enough.”

“Haymitch, don’t go.” Tyson tries.

“Congratulations.” Haymitch barely makes it out the door before Tyson reaches him.

“Just hold on a minute.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tyson asks, “dinner? Fine. You don’t have to.”

“This.” Haymitch motions toward the house. “Your family acts like this is some miracle. Do they even know it might not be your kid?”

Tyson huffs a laugh, “it’s not a secret.”

“Y/N’s family doesn’t seem thrilled.”

“Listen, I think they’re just worried. I know you’ve got some…history with them.” Maysilee. “But they’re good people.”

“What about Darling?”

“What about her?” Tyson wonders.

“That kid is wound so tight-”

“Yeah, and we’re working on it. She just gets anxious after being in the Capitol. All the parties and dinners at the Mansion, she puts a lot of pressure on herself. Like I said, we’re working on it.” Tyson explains, “if you have suggestions, I’d love your input.”

“This is insane. You know that right?” Haymitch throws up a hand, “the whole happy family act-”

“It’s not an act, Haymitch. We are happy. We want you to be a part of it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tyson demands. “Y/N is my best friend and we love each other. But you’re the one she wants. I’ve made my peace with it. I just want her to be happy. Whether that is with only you, you and me-”

“What about you?” Haymitch asks, “are you happy?”

Tyson’s face softens, “I am. You know most people are lucky to have one person in their lives, outside of family, who truly loves them. I have two.” Y/N and Perry.

“You have three.” Haymitch corrects him. You’ve got me.

“You’re part of this.” Tyson explains, taking Haymitch by the shoulders. “We wanted you to feel included. You deserve to be a father to those kids, just as much, if not more, than I do. I don’t think it has to be cut and dry, I think we can both…” Tyson breaks off, “there’s this old movie Y/N likes, about a girl who has three dads and they all come to her wedding-”

Haymitch understands the reference. “Mamma Mia?” He scoffs, “that’s the arrangement you’re proposing?”

“If that’s what works for us, I don’t see why not.”

“What about Snow?”

Tyson takes a step closer, “my Ma’s got some friends outside the districts. Plus, I’ve been talking to Plutarch again and he thinks-”

“Plutarch thinks he can save the world, he always has.”

“I don’t want to save the world.” Tyson assures him. “But I do want to save my wife, our kids, our family. If we can help other people in the districts, even better.”

Haymitch sighs, “tell me how.”

“We need a mockingjay.”

[saturntosatoru]

the eyes of the girl i won't forget || gojo satoru x f!reader

summary:

Ah, man, he’s really fucked it up this time, huh?

What, you may ask?

Everything ever worth anything.

warnings: angst!, situationship-to-what-ifs, milf!reader, me cucking Gojo again :/

a/n: hey guys! don’t mind me rambling abt Gojo’s eyes for 2k words—I got wine drunk :(

masterlist

Gojo Satoru: The Honored One. The Strongest. The Great Teacher Gojo. The Strongest Sorcerer of Today.

The list of epithets is endless—every time Gojo hears a new one, he treats himself to the premiere ichigo daifuku from Ginza to celebrate his new burden. He’s indifferent to the titles now—it’s natural after this many years—but the worst one yet, the one that still makes him flinch when announced, is “The Six Eyes”.

The Six Eyes.

Every time Gojo hears those words, a shudder runs down his spine. Not only is it the Elders’ favorite pet name for him—crooned in the sickly-sweet voice of authority—but it reminds him: no matter how he acts, who he tries to be, he’ll never escape his purpose.

The Six Eyes.

Disgusting.

Gojo likes���liked—your eyes though.

When you met oh so many years ago as naïve little first years, he’d first noticed your eyes. Or rather, he noticed how normal—how dull—they were. Until then, first meetings with people included some routine of “eye ogling”, where an average of three slightly invasive comments on his eyes were made.

You didn’t care about his, and that both irked and pleased Gojo Satoru. Irked, because his eyes were so much more interesting to look at than yours, thank you very much. Pleased, because it implied you saw him beyond just his abilities, his use for the world.

It was…sweet.

And later, when you noticed Gojo’s eyes stinging him, irritating him—no one had noticed before, everyone thought he was invincible, but you had seen his pain, his humanity—you surprised him with a pair of sunglasses. A cheap pair of 200-yen sunglasses from the corner store. You—a nobody from a non-sorcerer background; a nobody at the bottom of the totem pole, the hierarchy, of the jujutsu world; a nobody who should’ve revered Gojo as a God—you saw him simply as a teenage boy trying to find his way in the world.

Gojo loved that pair of 200-yen sunglasses. They broke after a month and a half of nonstop use, but he kept them on his bookshelf, dorm room otherwise empty except for a battered poster here and there and the guitar residing in the corner.

Oh, and the bento boxes you made for him. You’d noticed Gojo’s piss-poor attempts at survival—never taught how to cook, because why would the world’s savior be taught how to save himself?—and made it your mission to keep him running.

You were sneaky with it, too; oh, you were good. It started with packing too much food in your lunches, pretending to be annoyed when Gojo would steal some tempura or side dishes from you. Then, you would leave leftovers in your bento—sitting on the table while chatting with the others, appetite sated—and then you would let Gojo finish it off.

After conditioning him like a dog for weeks, you started packing two lunches—one for you and one for him—daily, adorned with matching wraps. And every day, Gojo would look forward to what new delicacy you had prepared; even your repackaged leftovers were appealing.

He’d never tell you, but leftover days were Gojo’s favorite. He’d find you in the dorm kitchenette before class, blearily preparing two boxes, and he’d sneak up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as a morning greeting. He’d get to stand behind you, tucking you beneath his chin, as you pottered around the kitchen, reheating fish or meat from the night before and making fresh tamagoyaki for breakfast, the extra being cut into slices for lunch. You’d occasionally raise your chopsticks up, higher than your head, for Gojo to snack and judge the seasoning.

Leftover days, Gojo got to pretend you were his and his alone. Leftover days, Gojo got to pretend he was Gojo Satoru, a boy in love, and not Gojo Satoru, the boy with the six eyes.

For how many eyes he’d been burdened with, in hindsight, he truly was blind to what mattered the most. When Suguru defected, Gojo finally experienced surprise—he’d been utterly blindsided. In a sick way, it was the most human Gojo ever felt, and his reactions were of a boy, not a prophetical God.

And as a teenage boy does, he spiraled. Focused on doing enough work for two, because he knew how much Suguru contributed to the world’s balance. Suguru and him were a team, and beyond just missions, they shared burdens, shared successes, and—Gojo had blindly believed—shared dreams.

Mission after mission completed, class after class ditched. Bento box forgotten lunch after lunch, and you—right where Gojo left you.

It wasn’t until graduation—two years after Geto defected—that Gojo had the decency, the audacity, to face you properly.

You weren’t at graduation.

After the initial panic, after the adrenaline pumping through Gojo’s body unlike that in any fight he’d faced before, he learned you’d left for a traditional, non-sorcerer university. You quit. Just like that. Jujutsu Tech would send you your diploma, but you’d already started classes, doing God knows what with God knows who.

(But Gojo was never truly a god, and Gojo didn’t know. He couldn’t find out—you’d blocked his phone number somewhere between him ditching your invitations to catch up and his promotion to Special Grade.)

Really, Gojo was fine with compartmentalizing you—you and the love and the dreams he had, all of which revolved around you. He moved on, driven by his goal of a new jujutsu society. He moved on, training students and defeating curses, ignoring elders and pressures to settle down.

He moved on.

Or so he thought, until Nanami Kento rejoined the jujutsu world. Yes, it was at Gojo’s insistence, but Gojo couldn’t predict—couldn’t see—the way Nanami’s acceptance would derail Gojo’s entire existence.

It started with the bentos.

Every day, at 1 PM sharp, Nanami would open his bento in the communal lounge. He’d start by unpacking his drink, then his utensils, and finally he’d unwrap his lunch. Each day, he’d have a different, well-rounded meal, and each day, Gojo would eye him from across the room while stealing food from Yaga or Ijichi’s still-packed lunch. Sometimes, he’d buy take out.

And Nanami would sit there until 1:30, texting someone, reviewing case files, or simply enjoying his food, all accompanied with an enticing homemade bento.

Gojo would try to pry; he’d ask him if it was delivery, tease him that he probably made his cutesy bentos in the morning while wearing a frilly apron, bully him into sharing some. Each time, Nanami deflected.

And soon it was commonplace, soon it was boring. Gojo looked for new material to tease Nanami with, moving on from the bentos, but it niggled at the back of his mind.

And then it clicks, one unsuspecting morning.

Today of all days, Nanami’s tie is askew. His hair is ruffled, and Gojo can finally (finally!) tease him for being frazzled, for not being as perfect as he normally is.

“Ahh, Nanamin—you know what they say! Not everyone can be as perfect as Gojo-sensei!” Gojo claps his hands, delighting in the immediate exasperation from his colleague.

Ijichi stands in the corner, waiting for Gojo to finally read his mission briefing, but Gojo is more intent on watching Nanami break. Based on what he sees, it’ll be anytime soon now.

“Gojo. Don’t you have other things to do? Didn’t you have an appointment to save the world at 9?” Nanami fixes his tie, collecting himself with every second. Gojo’s window of opportunity is slipping.

Gojo settles deeper into his chair, long left leg swinging over the right. “Oh, Nana-Nana-Nanamin…is that a hickey I see?”

“Uh, Gojo-san, I think—”

“Think later, Ijichi. Or don’t. That’s not what you’re paid for.” Gojo’s eyes snap back to Nanami, watching his ears turn an interesting shade of red. “Oho, it is, isn’t it?”

“So, what was it?” He continues. “Booty call that kept you up late? How scandalous~”

“My personal life is none of your business, Gojo. Just like I don’t ask you about your extracurricular activities, I don’t need to divulge my outside matters with you.” Nanami rifles through his briefcase, searching for something, while blandly responding to Gojo’s inquisition.

“Nanami-san, is everything alright? Is something missing? I can pick it up while out with Gojo-san.”

(“Kiss ass,” Gojo rolls his eyes, to which no one listens.)

Nanami looks up at Ijichi, nodding once. “Yes, that would be nice. Could you please—”

“Daddyyy!” A high-pitched yell bursts into the room, followed by a little boy not older than 4 or 5. He bolts to Nanami, tiny feet pattering on the linoleum floor, gripping his tan pant leg and staring up at his (Gojo assumes, based on context clues) father.

Gojo cannot process what he’s seeing. A peek at Ijichi shows he seems to be taking it in stride. Gojo might not be considered fit for being in public at this rate, genius-level intellect unable to put this two and two together.

“Yuto?” Nanami scoops the boy into his arms with too much familiarity for Gojo’s liking. “What’re you doing here, buddy? Where’s Mama?”

“This place is so cool, Dad! I saw so many stuffed animals and there was a panda, too! And I tried to pet it, but then Mama told me it was rude…” The boy (Yuto?) sniffs. Gojo stares. Nanami is a father.

“Did you say hi to the panda first, Yuto? And did you ask the panda if you could pet him?” Nanami brushes a hand over his son’s forehead, sweeping the hair back while speaking and accepting his son’s lack of direct answers.

“Yuto? Honey, where are you?” A voice, too familiar, too nostalgic for Gojo’s heart, sounds through the room.

Ah, it’s you.

Gojo is the butt of the joke. Shame on him for thinking he’d ever successfully bully Nanami. Life has made Gojo its comedic fodder instead.

Because there you stand, tote bag weighing on your shoulder, eyes focused on Nanami and his—your—son. The smile lighting up your face is subconscious—they are your world, and Gojo is a meteor caught in a brief accidental orbit.

“Yuto! What did I tell you about running off like that?” You’re standing at Nanami’s side now, the three of you looking like the picture-perfect family. Nanami’s free arm wraps around your waist—instinctively, Gojo can tell—and he drapes a kiss to your temple.

“I was meeting, Dad! And you said it was bad if you or Dad weren’t there, but he was here! And, I found him!”

Your eyes narrow playfully at him and you tweak his nose in retaliation. “You little bugger. That’s a good argument—” Yuto giggles. “—did you learn that from Ms Shimizu at Mama’s work?”

“Morning, love,” Nanami interrupts, looking at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. (And you might’ve, Gojo thinks. Because time has done you wonders, and you look better now—healthier, happier, more at peace—than the you of his memories. You’re glowing, enough to rival the moon.) “Not that this isn’t a wonderful start to the day, but what brings you two here?”

“Yuto and I were about to leave for school, but we saw your bento on the counter and decided to make a quick detour.” You pull out a neatly wrapped lunch from your bag, placing it on the table by Nanami’s briefcase. “Meaning we’ve gotta head out now so we’re not too late.”

Nanami’s eyes gleam with gratitude. “Thank you, love. You absolutely didn’t have to—”

“Of course I did! It’s leftover day; that food is not lasting until tomorrow, and I haven’t gotten groceries yet.” You kiss Nanami’s cheek, hoisting Yuto onto your hip. “Say ‘See you!’ to Daddy, Yuto!”

The boy echoes your prompt. Nanami ruffles Yuto’s hair and presses a firm kiss to your lips. Gojo can see the smile curling on your mouth. “We’ll see you at home tonight, Kento.”

“Y/n-san! It was good to see you again,” Ijichi says as you leave, nodding his head in greeting as if this is a normal occurrence. And oh, what a traitor his underclassman is—Gojo can tell this is not a rare sighting on Ijichi’s behalf.

“It was lovely to see you too, Ijichi. Let’s catch up next week over drinks when our schedules align.”

You turn now, acknowledging Gojo at long last, and nod. His eyes—all six of them—savor the moment and drink you in. You’ve controlled your hair, frizz lessened and strands neatly restrained by the sunglasses on your head. Your figure is less gangly and more womanly now, and the innate grace you’ve gained looks good on you. Your outfit is standard—just a work-appropriate blouse tucked into trousers—but it hugs your hips, your waist, in ways Gojo wishes he could. Your jewelry is simple, a watch on one wrist and a wedding band on your ring finger.

And he finally gets a proper look at your son, a glorious glimpse into what could’ve been—what could’ve been if Gojo could be a man and not a forced God. The child has the brightest smile and your eyes.

That’s good.

In Gojo’s dreams, they all have your eyes.

Gojo’s always hated his eyes.

notes:

You work as a paralegal, assisting a team of lawyers led by your boss, Higuruma Hiromi. Shimizu has become a close friend of yours, and the two of you love to gossip about the people in the firm. Whenever Yuto’s daycare is closed and you have to bring him in to work, she buys him snacks from the vending machine when you’re not looking.

Growing up, you weren’t actually that good a cook, but Gojo—Teenage Boy Extraordinaire—would eat anything and everything you prepared, contrary to popular thought. He’d serve as a guinea pig for your weekend recipe experiments, offering suggestions for potential tweaks and improvements.

Yuto is written with the characters for ‘courage’ and ‘person’. Both you and Kento had left the jujutsu world, and it was one of the conversation topics that catalyzed your relationship when you crossed paths post-Jujutsu Tech. Both of you wanted your son to pick his path for himself, but to do so with courage and kindness—the makings of a good person, in your books.

© 2025 saturntosatoru on Tumblr, all rights reserved

[agoldenblackbird]

Here it is, the first chapter of the Buck's Bakery AU from @peppermintquartz's prompt!

I tweaked the timeline a little bit and have Buck choosing not to go back to firefighting after the lightning strike, mostly because me writing a 3a/lawsuit era fic where Buck doesn't or can't return to firefighting would be action-packed with angst and have at least one scene of either suicidal ideation or Buck yelling at everybody. And I mostly want this to be a cute happy fic about tevan making heart eyes at each other and Buck letting himself have a career with low risk of physical or emotional trauma.

Of all the times he's almost died, for some reason it's the lightning strike that's changed him the most.

He doesn't love the random muscle spasms, or the sudden shooting pains or pins and needles that come from nowhere, that the doctor calls 'peripheral neuropathy' and Buck calls bullshit, but both are already lessened compared to when he first got out of the hospital and will most likely continue to improve. He's not firefighting fit right now, but it's only been four weeks since he woke up from the coma. It took him longer just to be allowed to start weight-bearing after the ladder truck, or for Eddie to get the sling off after the shooting, and he actually died this time.

It's the 'actually died' part that's messing with him.

The past six, almost seven, years have been the best of his life, because of finding a purpose in firefighting and a family in the 118. But from the standpoint of emotional and physical trauma, they've also been some of the worst.

Every single member of the team has survived attempted murder. So have Maddie and Athena. Buck, Eddie, Maddie, Hen, Chim, Harry and Josh have all been kidnapped or taken hostage – for Maddie, twice. Most of them have either attempted suicide or had to be prevented from making an attempt. They've had to watch or listen to people die, been drenched in the blood of the injured or dying.

And the things that have happened to Buck himself, well. He's thirty-one years old – just – and some mornings, especially when the weather changes, he feels sixty. The crush injury and the lightning strike are the most seriously he's ever been injured, but there's been myriad strains, sprains, broken ribs, dislocations and concussions over the years, too, and sometimes he feels every single one of them.

The emotional toll weighs more heavily. Devon still haunts him some nights, all these years and hundreds, thousands if he counts the tsunami, of losses later. He still finds a purpose in helping people, saving them. He's just beginning to wonder if there's some other way he can do it that doesn't involve meeting them on the worst day of their life.

He's no longer convinced he'll lose his family if they don't work together. None of them gave up on Eddie when he went to Dispatch, or wrote off Chim or Maddie when they left the state, out of sight, out of mind. When Hen was considering leaving, after Jonah, to do med school full time, he'd known he'd miss her, but he hadn't been scared of losing her. He knows, now, that they might argue or even get mad enough to not talk for a bit, but they'll always come back together eventually.

So if he doesn't need to be a firefighter to keep his family, or to feel worthy of love – the coma-driven revelation that he's Buck and that's enough has stayed with him – then it comes down to, does he still want to be one?

And the answer is that he doesn't know. And as annoying as some of the lingering symptoms from the lightning strike are, the extra time to make up his mind is useful. He's been doing a lot of walking, soothing Maddie's sisterly worry with the excuse that both Dr. Copeland and his GP recommended it and his neighbour Mrs. Cleary's dogwalker quit so he'd be taking her labradoodle out anyway.

Really, it just gives him time to think and an excuse to be unreachable. He needs both, right now. Everyone trying to make up for how isolated he was after his leg was crushed by smothering him – Maddie denied the existence of a schedule but Buck knows from how twitchy Chim got that there is one – is sweet, but also lowkey driving him crazy.

Buck finds the place on one of his walks, when Noodle stops to sniff at a sickly sidewalk tree for long minutes. It's a second-hand bookstore called The Borogoves. Clearly not a very popular one, given that when he peers in the window, he sees nobody there on a Saturday afternoon. The fact that the two storefronts to the right of it are empty might have something to do with it. On the left is a Chase Bank.

Something about those two empty storefronts with their papered-over windows and For Sale Or Lease signs with the matching phone number piques his interest. There's offices above, but when he looks up the notary public on his phone, Google lists the business as permanently closed.

Huh.

——————————————————————————————————

Tommy doesn't usually have time on his commute to look around. He's got to pay attention to what the other drivers are doing. But when he's on his way home from his first night shift after two months of days, he's cruising down the nearly empty streets at just after 6 am with nothing else to do but look.

He understands why the schedule is the way it is, pilots can't do 24-hour shifts because they risk being too sleep deprived to fly or maxing out on flight hours before the shift is over or both, and that means 12-hour shifts in a 4 on, 4 off cycle, switching from nights to days or vice versa every 8 cycles. It makes sense, but god is it a pain in the ass.

The older he gets the harder it is to switch, plus it's a nightmare for dating guys who have a regular 9-to-5. Tyler had a lot to say when Tommy spent all of his last four off switching his schedule around and couldn't go with him on a business trip to Seattle. (He may have used the switch as an excuse to decline being dragged to schmoozy work dinners, but nobody, especially Tyler, needs to know that.)

Tommy goes past what he's pretty sure was two empty storefronts when he was last on nights. They're not empty now, lights are on and the paper's taken down from the windows, and he can hear the sounds of a table saw and a pneumatic nail gun. There's gold paint on the windows. First Javawocky, then Looking-Glass Cakes.

Huh. He'll have to keep an eye out for the grand opening. If nothing else, it'll be handy to have a coffee shop on his commute that isn't Starbucks.

——————————————————————————————————

No promises on when the second chapter will be out, (comment below to be added to the taglist for updates if you want!) but I think I've finally found my rhythm with doing one bit from each POV so that's helpful. Also I haven't made a moodboard in YEARS and I really had a lot of fun with it, so that's helping with motivation!

And if you believe that in this AU, after his heart attack Bobby chooses to stay retired and joins Buck at the bakery, and then Gerrard dies of a circular saw to the head bc his completely unrealistic face turn and unearned HEA was bullshit, Hen becomes Captain because she deserves it and Chim had previously said after his turn as Interim Captain that he never wanted to lead again, and no one dies of super-ebola because SoCal utilizes basic lab safety and security procedures and also does background checks and psych screenings on their employees, you are so sexy and correct and that is absolutely what happens!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Primal (Part 9)

Summary: Brock's arrested, Teddy's getting the help he needs and our crew can finally take some very important steps forward in their lives, as individuals and a family...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 10,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, smut

A/N: The finale's finally here! I know this was a bit different but I had so much fun writing this mystery and the science behind it all. Please let me know what your favorite part was!...

Y/N POV

Three Hours Later

“Well good afternoon, sunshine,” you teased. Tim grumbled as he woke up, taking one look around the hospital room and the padded restraints on his wrists before flopping his head back down. “How you feeling?”

“If I could stop waking up tied down to something that’d be great,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Should have chosen a different omega if you didn’t want that to be in your future plans,” said Lucy from the table by the window. Tim pointed a finger at her, smirking as she grinned. 

“Well, with a certain someone I have an entirely different opinion on the whole situation,” he said, becknowing her over. You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the other end of the bed, Lucy sitting on the edge, taking one of his hands in hers. “I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I don’t mind if my Alpha is a damsel,” she teased, Tim laughing quietly. You pretended to gag when he arched up to kiss her, getting a kick in the leg for it.

“We sure all that primal shit is out of you yet?” You slapped his leg, Tim narrowing his eyes like you’d pay for it later. “By the way, where’s my apology?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” he scoffed, making a face when you went wide eyed. “Oh, you were fine with Teddy. Clearly, Beau and Lucy were going to save the day.”

“You were turned primal. Again. Just a tad traumatic,” you said. He shook his head with a tsk.

“Well if this is how you’re going to be, I’m revoking your badass title and giving it to Emily. I mean, she took down a serial killer. All you do is get kidnapped,” he smirked.

“I spoke in code that there was a bomb under a car!” 

“She stopped a serial killer. An untrained seventeen year old girl. You’re never going to win.” 

“Hun,” Lucy smirked. “Emily told us everything. She hit Brock with the car after he snuck up on you. You tied him up and tossed him in the backseat. You cuffed yourself and got in the trunk before you went full primal so you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Nope, Em still gets the title over this whiner,” he said. You rolled your eyes and stood up, going to him and bending down, wrapping your arms around him. A shaky breath betrayed you, Tim’s head tilting to lean against your own. “Sh. S’alright. Lucy’s got me. Go let that hunky sheriff take care of you and make sure Em’s okay.”

“He’s busy,” you mumbled, a strong scent filling the room.

“Nah, it’s been a slow day around here actually. Pretty boring,” said Beau from the doorway. You smiled, releasing Tim as Beau walked inside the room, tucking you under his arms. “You’re just always getting saved by omegas, aren’t you, Barclay?”

“What can I say? I’m progressive like that,” he said, Beau ruffling reaching out to ruffle his hair. Tim growled quietly, Beau cocking his head. “Do that again and see what happens.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” he said, messing it up even more, earning a louder growl. Beau grinned hard, sending strands all over the place that had Tim testing the strength of his restraints. 

“I’m going to find a way to dye your hair pink, Arlen,” he gritted out, Beau finally taking pity on him.

“I’m sure you will. Lucy, give us a call if you need us. Otherwise I’ll leave your angry puppy in your hands.”

“Bye, guys,” you said, Beau leading you out of the room. You glanced through the window in the hallway, smiling as Lucy laid down beside Tim, a gentle look crossing his face while she smoothed out his hair.

“She’s got him,” said Beau, your arms wrapping around his waist, his own tucking you in tighter to his body. “I need to find a way to thank him for saving Emily.”

“He won’t accept it,” you said quietly, nudging him down the hall to give them their privacy. “He’ll probably blame himself for Brock attacking them at the rest stop in the first place.”

“Well, he’s a moron if he thinks that. Brock put a tracker on their car too,” he said, pausing at the end of the hall. “Brock is up in intensive care. I don’t know if you want to see him or if not. That’s all fine with me.”

“Brock can rot in hell. If it’s okay, I’d like to see Teddy before we go home though.” He kissed your temple and hummed, guiding you to the elevator where you traveled up to the eighth floor. It was quieter up here, Beau holding your hand as he took you past a security checkpoint. “What is this place?”

“Even criminals need medical care. When it’s too much for local jail or prison, those people go to the hospital like everyone else. Teddy’s being held back here.” You followed him closely, stopping outside a guarded room with a one way window. Teddy lay in a bed, strapped down just like Tim was, apart from the IV with a green liquid flowing into his veins.

“What are they doing?” you asked, Beau nodding when Dr. Olson came into view and slid onto a stool, patting Teddy’s arm. The two men exchanged a brief pair of words before Teddy smiled and nodded.

“Under the law, a primal Alpha is technically not in the right state of mind to be aware of their actions. Teddy guided us to his journals but his Alpha has forbidden him from speaking about anything we want to know answers to. Your mother has clammed up but Boston PD doesn’t believe she is primal. Just…batshit crazy.” Dr. Olson adjusted something on the IV, the two men chatting, laughing even as you watched. “Springs is telling her team to review the journals closely. They can’t say for sure right not but initial findings is Teddy was telling the truth.”

“Dr. Olson is trying to make him not primal,” you said. Beau hummed. “Is that even possible for an Alpha that was turned so young?”

“The doc believes so. Emily said Brock was talking about how he’d have his children back soon, how Teddy would bring you to him. But Teddy didn’t take you to Brock. We think maybe he tricked his own mind into technically complying with his Alpha’s orders by taking you but he delayed bringing you there. Same thing with the journals.”

You leaned against Beau’s arm, sighing to yourself. “How will they know if he’s no longer primal?”

“Blood test, same as Tim.” He pulled you in front of himself, arms wrapped around your shoulders. “You don’t have to have anything to do with Teddy anymore if you don’t want to. This can be it. Or you can have more. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

“Jenny Hoyt should be given this same course of treatment,” you said. Beau nodded, kissing the top of your head. “Do we know how either of them were turned?”

“Teddy’s journals indicate Jenny went on a solo camping trip in Washington when she’d just finished the police academy. She twisted her ankle and another older hiker helped her for the night. We believe Jenny was targeted. Brock was one of her instructors at the academy apparently. He likely drugged her, injected her when she was passed out and she woke up none the wiser that she had a new Alpha. It would have been before her first heat.”

“Her stabbing Tim in the gut was most likely her attempt to follow the order but still save him. She could have shot him in the head if she actually wanted him dead,” you said, closing your eyes. “And I busted her leg and nearly bashed her skull in.”

“If this works, I think Hoyt will be thanking you for that broken leg for the rest of her life. Teddy was getting older. Hunter was his new killer and I expect Jenny was about to start being told to do that too.” He squeezed you tight when you gripped his arms, lowering your head. “Primal Alphas haven’t been a thing for centuries and using them to control other Alphas to commit murder opens a can of worms I won’t even pretend to understand.”

“Teddy’s probably going to jail for the rest of his life when he was a victim too,” you said quietly. “It’s not fair.”

“Let’s see if we can get the primal out of his system first. If we can do that, Carla’s a hell of an attorney. Maybe we can do something.” You hummed, turning around in his hold. “Let’s get you home, ‘mega.”

“Beau. Don’t you have to go back to work?” you asked a few hours later at your townhouse, stepping out of your bedroom in a pair of pajama shorts and his hoodie you’d stolen back in Boston. He looked up from where he was unpacking a box of plates in the kitchen, freezing in place while you shook out your damp hair. You looked down and back up. “What?”

“Just uh, seeing you in my clothes and uh…” He wasn’t shy about raking his eyes up your bare legs, biting his bottom lip. A noise from the front hall had you both turning your heads, Emily coming into view with her hands on her hips. “Need help, honey?”

“I need you to stop being so horny on main.” He scoffed, Beau crossing his arms while you stifled your life. “Give me your car keys.”

“Uh, what?” he asked. She held out her hand, making grabby hands. “Technically these are keys to a Helena PD car-”

“Go make out with your girlfriend,” she said, stalking over and taking them off the counter, spinning around quickly. 

“Emily,” you said, jogging over quickly, catching her arm. “You had a long day. I think your dad wants to keep an eye on you. He’ll behave, I promise.”

Just then the front door of your new townhouse burst open, Tim carrying Lucy inside, their lips locked as he fumbled with the door. Emily held out her hand, making a face. “Well hey there! If it ain’t the other horny on main couple.”

Tim nearly dropped Lucy, the two of them scrambling apart as Emily crossed her arms, looking back at her father. 

“H-Hey guys,” said Lucy, tucking her hair behind her ear, Tim’s face sporting a nice pink blush.

“Why are you people here?” he asked, giving you a long glare. You shot it right back, flipping him off.

“I live here, jackass. Do we have to have the talk about making out in common areas again?” you asked, Tim rolling his eyes.

“We’ll come back later,” said Lucy, dragging Tim by the hand by the door. “Six? We can all have dinner?”

“Sounds great,” said Emily, walking past and shaking her head at Tim. “I still expect to see you at therapy today, Barclay.”

“That’s in like twenty minutes,” he scoffed, Emily shrugging and heading out the door. “Emily. Emily whatever your middle name is Arlen!”

“It’s Louella and you promised me, Barclay. Get horny on your own time,” she called back, Tim’s eye twitching as Lucy laughed beside him.

“That little shithead,” he grumbled, Lucy patting his back. “But we were-”

“Go to therapy,” she murmured in his ear. “I’ll wait in the parking lot for you, okay?”

“Alright,” he mumbled, Lucy spinning him around, walking him out the door. “Later guys.”

You locked the door after them, Beau padding over on bare feet and a smile. “Remind me again why I didn’t just move in with you?”

“Because we said we’d be adults about the whole situation and re-evaluate in a few months. You haven’t had a steady home in nearly a year and the past month has been a lot on top of the whole mate thing on top of the whole I have a teenager thing and we both need to figure out dating with that and-”

“Sh,” you said, pressing a finger to his lips. “We have the place to ourselves. Let’s enjoy it, hm?”

“Well when you put it like that, what are we waiting for?”

Beau, Emily and Lucy left late that night after a long dinner, leaving you and Tim to do a bit more unpacking around the place. It was past ten when you were in your room reading, a light knock on the door. “S’open.”

The door cracked, Tim standing there in a pair of black joggers and nothing else. You frowned at the bruises covering his abdomen, Tim holding up a tube of cream and bandage.

“Can you uh, change my bandage?” You hummed, washing up in your bathroom as he sat on your bed cross legged, fisting his shirt in his hands. You unpeeled the bandage by his shoulder, a long red slice there from a knife if you had to guess. There were no stitches at least so it couldn’t have been deep. 

You worked quickly, discarding the old and putting on the new, patting his back gently when you finished. You washed up and then walked around to the other side, helping him put his t shirt on. 

“All set,” you said, ruffling his damp hair. He nodded, head lowering. The room suddenly smelled like fresh rain and you let out a deep breath before crawling up onto the bed behind him. He got up, walking quietly to the door when you sat up. “Why don’t you ever let me see you cry?”

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t like to let anyone see me upset,” he said quietly. 

“How many times have I sobbed all over you? When my dog died when I was a kid? When my first boyfriend broke my heart? When I thought my parents were getting a divorce? When I got laid off? When I blamed myself for you and Mika breaking up cause I thought she didn’t like me? If you want to be alone, okay. But you don’t have to be. I know I’ve said it more than once over the years but-” You shut up when he turned and plopped down on the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips and burrowing his face in your thigh. 

“I broke up with Mika because she didn’t like you. She cheated on me a few times but it was finally over when she was real nasty when I said we had to delay our date so I could pick you up from a frat party.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” you said, letting him hide his face. He shrugged in response, breathing shakily. “Tim-”

“If she couldn’t wait thirty minutes so I could make sure no one took advantage of you, then she could get the fuck out of my life.” You bent down and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and back, closing your eyes. He shivered, squeezing you tighter. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you. Teddy picked me to be that person for you and I screwed up so many times.”

You pushed him off of you, Tim laying back on the bed, staring up with a red face, like you’d just slapped him. You peered down over him, getting right in his face. “Stop. Just stop with this bullshit. It’s me. Just say what you’re scared to say. I know that’s not what you really are trying to say so just for once, trust me.”

He closed his eyes, his face scrunching up. “My dad hurt your dad. He destroyed Teddy’s life. Brock turned me so I’d attack Emily. Beau could never forgive me for that. He’d kill me. Back in Boston I believed you when you said you’d always be there for me but after today? I’m scared you’ll blame me for everything.”

“Why on earth would I blame you?” you asked, eyebrows sky high.

“Because Brock told me you would before he turned me and I have a very hard time getting the shit that man says to me out of my head,” he said, sitting upright, putting his back to you. ���The man is a serial killer that gets his kicks by torturing omegas. He psychologically, physically abused me everyday for eighteen years. I thought I was better, that he didn’t affect me anymore but I’m still scared of that old man. He got the jump on me because I got scared today. I’m an Alpha like he is. What if I’m as fucked up as he is deep down?”

You scooted over to him, wrapping your arms under his arms and around his broad chest, legs going around his waist before you dropped your head to the space between his shoulder blades.

“I’m a Barclay too. Am I fucked up?” You inhaled his scent, still rain like, still tense. 

“You’re not like me,” he said quietly. “You’re normal.”

“Brock hurt omegas. You protect them. You’re developing quite a collection of them in your life that will gladly tell you how much of a monster you are not.” You nuzzled his back, his hands grasping your forearms. “Do you remember the first time I stayed over your apartment? How awkward we both were? We’d only met twice before that and suddenly my dad drops me off at your door for two days because their friend bailed on watching me for a weekend.”

“I remember,” he said softly. “You lost all that bravado and turned into another person. I had no idea how to take care of a kid.”

“You could have hurt me. But by the end of that first night, we were best buds.”

“What’s your point?”

“You didn’t want me. You didn’t want me more than anything in your life because I’d just be another person to hurt you. Yet here we are, twenty years later. Your annoying, brat, kid sister and my stubborn as hell, gentle, kind, good big brother. An Alpha that bears his omega’s mark. So go ahead and freak out because your family will be there when you do.” You rested your chin on his shoulder, the rain scent fading, replace with flowery vanilla. 

“I made a standing appointment with that therapist. Tuesdays at 3,” he said quietly, resting his head against yours. “Thanks for making me go with Em.”

“FIgured it wouldn’t be so scary if you went with her at first,” you said.

“Would you come to my session sometimes?” 

“Of course,” you said, lifting your head up, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing your temple. 

“Sleepover tonight?” you asked. He groaned but plopped down on his side, taking you with him. “Too late. You’re getting cuddles.”

“Jokes on you, I always liked your cuddles,” he said. You squeezed him tight, Tim wincing. “Easy there Sarah Connor. I was in a fight today you know.”

“A man in his seventies hit you with a crowbar and stabbed you one little time. I mean honestly, Timothy, you should have kicked his ass.” 

“He hit me in the back of the head ya little fucker.”

“Just saying, I got kidnapped today and talked my way out of it. You got your ass handed to you by a man that lives in an assisted living facility.” He sat up, twisting around to stare down at you. You sighed, holding up your hands. “Tim, it was a joke. I’m sor-”

“It’s not that. You’re right. Brock lived in a facility but today, he swung that crowbar hard. Way harder than a seventy something year old should be.” You sat up along with him, pursing your lips. “My father’s a bastard. Why would he voluntarily live in a place like that?”

“Access to drugs? I know to turn an Alpha primal you need to be injected with another Primal Alpha’s saliva.”

“But is Brock primal?” he asked, reaching across you to grab your phone from the nightstand. “I thought they said he wasn’t.”

“He’s not,” you said, Tim starting to text on your phone as you rested your chin in your hand, elbow against your knee. “So how does a normal Alpha make other Alpha’s primal…”

Tim lowered the phone, a stupid grin growing on his face. You raised your eyebrows, Tim smirking. “You don’t know? For once I’m the one that paid attention in biology class?”

“First off, you sucked ass at biology. Second, I have read every book, paper, and journal on going primal that Dr. Olson could find. There’s nothing in there about this.”

“Because it wouldn't be,” he said. He smiled, watching you give him a bitch face. “This feels good. Is this what it’s like being a know it all all the time?”

“I’ll tell Lucy you’re being mean to me,” you said, reaching for the phone, Tim catching your wrists in one hand and keeping you away from it.

“I’m always mean to you, it’s how we say we love each other,” he said, smiling when you growled. “You going to keep being a brat or let me explain?”

“You’re the one being a brat,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes at him. “Fine. What does the old man know that I don’t?”

He gently smacked you in the face with your own hands before dropping them, tossing your phone back in your lap. 

“Up until a few hundred years ago, pack leaders were a big deal. They were always naturally chosen based on physicality, birth order, all that crap. Then as we got a little more aware of things, society decided we no longer needed pack leaders and the practice of having them fell out and eventually they were banned. But, genetically, our bodies can still be pack leaders. Brock comes from a very strong line of Alphas and he was an only child. He has those genetic details that make him a pack leader. I think he activated them and after doing that-”

“A pack leader can make pack members go primal by instructing them to go after an omega but not allowing them to physically go get the omega,” you said. Tim hummed. “Teddy was his first turn, right? Let’s assume Hunter and Jenny were turned from Teddy’s saliva. How’d Brock turn Teddy when Teddy wasn’t in his pack?”

“Same reason…” He sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s the same reason…”

“Same reason you started to smell like Beau a bit after meeting him. The whole you can indoctrinate pack members when you form a bond.” Tim didn’t speak, only inhaled deeply. “You both were so protective of me, it was only natural you formed that brotherly bond.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m ready to call him…that but same principle applies. Brock formed that older sibling relationship with Teddy. Didn’t you used to say your grandpa was always so confusing cause he was sweet to you and a dick to your dad?”

“They did fight a lot when my dad was young,” you said. “So Brock found him when he was young and vulnerable?”

“Probably. We should ask Teddy how Brock got to him if that primal cure stuff ends up working.” He flopped back down on the bed, letting out a long sigh. You finished off a text to Beau with your theory, getting a quick response back he’d look into it in the morning. After tossing your phone aside, Tim rolled over, jetpacking you and letting out a small yawn. “Can I ask you a question about Lucy?”

“What’s up? I mean we were friends in college but fell out of touch when we graduated so we’re still getting to know each other again.”

“I know that. Just…if my life hadn’t been on the line, do you think she would have gone for me?” he asked quietly.

“Do you remember that week you went to California for some urban tactical training seminar? You got to play paintball for a week in the woods?” you asked.

“If you mean the week I went to a very selective stealth rescue training activity, then yes.”

“Like I said, paintball in the woods.” You could feel his eye roll behind you as you hummed. “Well, I threw a little girls only party at our place that week. And my friends may have seen your picture on the walls.”

“Lucy thought I was hot?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

“All of them did but I kept catching Lucy smelling your blanket. She kept saying she was just cold and that her nose was but if I think about it, I think you scent-marked her without being there. She broke up with her boyfriend like three days later and we all thought she was going to marry him. So. Do with that what you will.”

“Doesn’t mean she likes me, just my scent.” You groaned, slapping his behind. “Ow!”

“Timothy, I know you’re revolting and a dickhead but you really have no idea how good of a guy you are. Trust me, as an omega woman, there are Alpha men that treat us like we should be grateful for the chance to carry their pups. Then there’s a guy like you. We like when guys stick up for us. But you, you’re the guy that makes us feel supported when we stick up for ourselves. I’m half your size and you have never, ever, made me feel weak or like I can’t protect myself. You did a pretty good job of raising yourself and me. Be proud of that.”

“I’m trying to,” he said quietly, his breathing slowing behind you. “Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“Want to watch something scary?”

“But I have to stare at your face everyday already. Don’t I suffer enough?” He squeezed you tight, rolling straight off the bed with you, your feet off the ground. “I’m in danger, aren’t I.”

“You have five seconds to say something sweet or we’re watching The Strangers.”

“No! That gave me nightmares,” you said as he carried you out of the room and down the hall. “Um…”

“You were literally just nice to me. How is it this difficult?” He stopped in front of the couch, holding you over it. “Three seconds.”

“Uh.”

“Two.”

“Uh.”

“One,” he said, his arms holding you out further. You looked over your shoulder at him, his gaze unreadable. “You giving up?”

“Can we watch Alien?” you asked, jutting out your bottom lip, putting on your puppy dog eyes. “Please? I get murder and you get Sigourney?”

He groaned, dropping you to the cushions and going to stand under the TV, pulling out the DVD. “Someday that’s not gonna work on me.”

“Sure, sure. Same day your crush on her stops too I bet.” He flopped down beside you after a moment, tossing you the remote. “Ready?”

“Whenever you’re ready, kiddo.”

Three Weeks Later

“Father,” Emily proclaimed when you got out of the rental car at his parents place in Houston. You spun around, Emily storming away from the second rental car behind you that Tim and Lucy were exiting. “That was cruel and unusual punishment forcing me to ride with them from the airport.”

“Oh, they aren’t that bad,” he said, smirking as Lucy grabbed Tim’s waist and pushed him back against the side of the car, the pair sharing an intense kiss. You watched them with a raised eyebrow, their kiss turning PG-13 and then some fast. “Uh…”

“I think they finally mated a few days ago,” you mumbled, getting out a backpack, handing it to Emily. 

“Great. Now I have four of you randy fuckers,” she grumbled, Beau flicking her ear. “Hey!”

“Your grandmother hears that language and she’ll give you a time out.” She rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and try her.”

“I’m so glad I’m staying with mom tonight,” she mumbled, trekking up to the door. “No one wants to see your boner, Barclay!”

You and Beau shared a grin when he and Lucy broke apart, Tim coughing as he walked farther down the driveway to adjust himself. 

“I’m so happy we have a sassy child to torment them with,” you said, laughing to yourself.

“We have a sassy child, eh?” He said, setting down his carry on. Your cheeks heated, Beau smirking and stroking his thumb over the crest of it. 

“I-I didn’t mean…there’s no way I’d ever try to replace Carla or be Emily’s…” you trailed off, Beau tilting your chin upwards.

“Emily’s old enough to understand that you’re a permanent member of this family. Now, I’ll trust my two ladies to figure out what they want that relationship to be but, and you didn’t hear this from me, a certain sassy child despite her constant digs on the grown ups, would greatly enjoy another maternal figure in her life. If that’s something you’re okay with.”

“Really?” He hummed. “But she already has a mother.”

“She hasn’t quite forgiven Carla for what happened last year with the camp and her former stepfather. I don’t know that she’ll ever forgive her. Her stepdad let her down and put himself first whereas you? You saved her dad. She all the shit she gives them, she adores Tim and Lucy. You don’t guilt trip her for her feelings like her mother does sometimes. She respects the respect you give her. I don’t say that to pressure you but if you want more with her, you should go for it.”

“Thanks Alpha,” you murmured so quietly only he could hear. He pulled you into his side, giving you a hug. “I don’t know that I’d be very good at it though. My own mom was never the most maternal and that was before I found out she was a psychopath.”

“I think you ought to give yourself more credit. All you gotta do is love ‘em and protect ‘em and you got plenty of experience with that,” he said, Tim and Lucy sharing a laugh from the end of their car. “Now that I’m about to introduce you to the Arlen clan and be interrogated by them, I’m realizing we probably should have had a few more grown up discussions about certain things.”

“Hm, well I’ve never met a boys family before so this will all be new to me,” you said, Beau’s hand gripping your waist. “While I’d love to say it’s none of their business, if we get questioned, marriage eventually and perhaps a pup down the road?”

“I always wanted to give Emily a sibling,” he whispered, brushing his lips over yours. “And what do you do for work, Mrs. Arlen?”

You smacked his chest, Beau grinning back at you. “I got a job with Dr. Olson at the university hospital overseeing-”

“You got the job?” He picked you straight up off the ground, squishing you tight, a round of giggles escaping you. “When did you find out?”

“When we landed. I’m nervous but excited,” you said, Beau grinning. “It’s a boring office job, Beau.”

“Um, excuse me but aren’t you getting a serious pay bump, it’s not full time and you get to go find funding for oh, an actual cure to Primal? Yeah, just a wee little old office job.” 

“Exactly,” you hummed, Beau pressing his lips to yours.

“No body wants to see that nastiness,” said Tim, Beau flipping him off without breaking away. 

“Boys,” you and Lucy sighed, Beau reluctantly peeling away from you. You took your backpack and carry on, waiting a beat before you followed Beau up the drive to the the front door, hands interlaced. 

“Ma, we’re here!” He called as you stepped inside the foyer area, Beau telling you to leave your bags in the adjacent dining room for now.

“I took that you were based on Emily devouring my gingerbread cookies in the kitchen,” said a gentle voice. A shorter woman with light brown hair rounded a corner, wearing a big smile. “Oh are these the girls? You boys have outdone yourselves.”

“Hi,” you said, setting your backpack down. “I’m Y/N and this is Lucy, my brother’s girlfriend.”

“I know who you two are. I’m Bridget,” she said, all smiles, wrapping you both up in hugs, Lucy giving you a look over her shoulder during hers. She lingered with yours, leaning back with a soft look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so smitten.”

“Literally right here, ma,” said Beau behind you, Bridget rolling her eyes.

“Mhm,” she hummed, ignoring him before grinning over at Tim. “Oh and you must be Timothy!”

“Tim’s fine,” he said with a brief smile, Bridget wrapping him up in a big hug. 

“Well I know you kids had a long flight. Beau, Tim and Lucy are in Declan’s old room and I have you and Y/N in yours. Why don’t you show them around and when you kids are all set, we’ll head over to Declan’s for dinner,” she said.

Five hours later you were back at Beau’s parents after an easy going dinner at his older brother’s place nearby. You and Lucy helped prepare the dining room table in your pajamas for Thanksgiving the next day while the guys helped his parents in the kitchen.

“Okay we’re all set. What next?” you asked rounding the corner of the kitchen. 

“Time for a drink,” said Jock, Beau’s father, ushering you and Lucy to take a seat at the kitchen island. He mixed you both old fashioned’s as you watched Beau mash a giant pot of cooked potatoes while Tim sprinkled marshmallows over mashed sweet potatoes in a casserole dish. “The girls finished their tasks boys. Just waiting on you is all I’m saying.”

“Perfection cannot be rushed,” said Tim, carefully rearranging the marshmallows. Beau tried to smack his elbow to throw him off but Tim dodged it, a loud whistle coming from Jock.

“Beau, stop being a little shit and let him finish. I’ve been dreaming of that casserole ever since Y/N said Tim offered to make it.”

“My sister does not have the refined palate some of us with taste do,” said Tim, popping one last one in. He spun around with a grin. “More for us.”

“Last time I ate your magic potato casserole I spent the night throwing up,” you said.

“That was from eating undercooked chicken, not my wonderful creation. She never appreciates my cooking,” he said.

“Yes I do, just not your nasty casserole,” you said, Lucy shushing you. “Oh, don’t take his side.”

“But his food is yummy,” she said, giving him a soft look. “I am looking forward to it tomorrow.”

“Y’all crazies can have it,” you said, smiling when a slice of chocolate pie was set down in front of you and Lucy each by Bridget. “Beau, have I mentioned how much I love your parents yet?”

“We’re just glad to have a noisy house again,” she said, cutting up a slice for Tim and handing it to him after he set the casserole in the fridge. “Oh! Let me get the whip cream. I know that’s your favorite, Tim.”

She grabbed the can, squirting a big helping on top for him before ushering him over next to Lucy.

“Annnnnd done,” said Beau, holding out the pot ready to be heated tomorrow. “Pie please, mother.”

“He always did have a sweet tooth,” said Jock, setting a drink down for Tim as Beau got his plate and hopped up on the counter, sitting cross legged. Bridget excused herself as the four of you devoured your slices and started to eat straight out of the tin, Bridget returning with three white boxes. 

“So I’m sure you noticed we already have the tree and stockings up. We like to decorate a little ahead of time,” she said, handing a box to each of you apart from Beau. “These are for all of you.”

You set your fork down and opened the box, smiling as you pulled out a baby blue stocking with a doe on it and your name stitched into the top.

You glanced to the right, Lucy holding up a light green one, also with a doe, albeit in a different position. You peaked around her, Tim holding a rich dark green with a large stag wearing a scarf. He thumbed over his name, smiling to himself.

“Okay, go hang up your stockings on the mantle and I’ll find you more desserts you can devour,” she said, shooing you off. You ducked into the next room over, hanging yours besides Beau’s navy blue with stars and a stag. 

“Here’s good,” he said, patting a spot next to your name, Tim tucking his up there along with Lucy’s. 

“Why’d your mom make us these?” he asked quietly, Beau cocking his head. “And are being so nice? Did you ask them to be nice?”

You and Lucy shared a sad look behind his back, Beau clasping Tim on the shoulder.

“Timothy,” he sighed. “Those people are going to give you weekly phone calls from now on and you’re going to answer. You’re going to go to holidays and family reunions and on big vacations. Mom will get you a cake every year on your birthday no matter where you are and dad will come up every spring to watch you in your first intramural baseball game of the year. Don’t resist it. It’ll be a good thing, I promise.”

“But why?” he asked quietly, Lucy closing her eyes, your arms wrapping around her.

“Trust me?” Tim sighed, nodding once. “Good. Now take a seat people. Time for the annual Arlen watch of Trains, Planes and Automobiles.”

Three Weeks Later

“Hey,” you said, bumping into Tim as you were walking out of the front door of your townhouse. “I’m spending the night at Beau’s so you have the place to yourself.”

“I know, Beau gave me the heads up as I was headed out.” You adjusted your overnight bag, Tim tossing his backpack through the open door. “You got a sec?”

You followed him back inside, closing the door behind you to keep out the winter chill. He kicked off his snow boots and set them in the tray, lazily hanging his coat and beanie up on the rack. He ran a hand through his fluffy hair, the strands sticking up.

“You need a haircut,” you said, Tim rolling his eyes.

“I’ve only been a wee bit busy lately,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down, your eyebrow raising. 

“Spit it out, Barclay. I got a handsome man making me a home cooked meal in a childless house to get to.”

“I wanted to give you a Christmas present early,” he said. 

“Are you dying?” He scoffed. “Oh come on, you never give me gifts early. You’re 45 so I mean you could be dying. You would tell me if you’re dying, right? If you are hiding-”

He covered your mouth with his hand, chuckling to himself. He slid it away when you stopped talking, a light flush to his cheeks. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a envelope carefully, handing it to you.

You slowly opened it, wide eyed as you pulled out a card.

World’s Best Aunt!

Your eyes flickered up to him, a stupidly shy smile on his face. “You’re gonna…”

“Be a dad? Yup. That is a thing that will be happening next year,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Are we happy about this?” you asked gently, Tim nodding fiercely, a grin breaking out over your own face. 

“I’m fucking terrified. But happy. Lucy told me a few days ago and she’s only a month in but she wanted to tell you and Beau. I figured-” You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his warm cheek. 

“You’re going to make an amazing father,” you said, Tim picking you up and hugging you tight. “And when you start to freak out, remember you guys aren’t doing this alone.”

“I know,” he mumbled, setting you down. “It was a little sooner than we were expecting but nothing about our relationship is normal so why start now.”

“You going to marry her?” He rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“I was hoping you could help me pick out a ring before we head down to Jock & Bridget’s for Christmas. Lucy’s folks will be there too and then they’re making plans to move out here to be closer to us in the spring and Beau said he’d abuse his power as sheriff to get us a wedding venue in a few months before she starts to show and why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because you’re happy.” You squeezed him tight, Tim’s scent relaxed and cozy. “So Lucy’s moving in here, right? Her place is so small and this is three bedroom so you got room for a nursery and an office-”

“Uh, yes Lucy will move in, after the holidays most likely. But we got time for all that,” he said, tilting his head. “I don’t want you to move out. You and Beau are taking things slow and Lucy and I fully respect that.”

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “How many nights a week do I even sleep here, Tim?”

“Okay but I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you out the door to Beau.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” He sighed, your hand clasping his. “I will move out when I am good and ready. So. Why don’t you run to the grocery store, make Lucy dinner, and talk about baby names tonight?”

“Alright, go be with your boyfriend,” he said, tugging on your braid. “But when you two start getting serious, that boy better ask my permission if he wants to marry you.”

“Are you asking Lucy’s dad?” 

“I don’t need to. She’s her own woman,” he said, crossing his arms. 

“I see, I see,” you said, nodding your head with a hum. “But Beau needs permission.”

“I ain’t letting any schmuck marry you,” he said, lifting his chin. You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m serious. I need to know that boy’s got good values.”

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you.” He put a hand to his chest in shock, feigning innocence. “I can’t wait until you have a child you can annoy instead of me.”

“It’s cute you think that will save you.” 

“Later, Timothy,” you said, flipping him off as you opened the door. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Careful driving.” 

Ten minutes later you were stepping into Beau’s house, kicking the snow off on the front rug. It smelled like sugar cookies and something delectable in the warm house.

“I’m here!” you called, hanging up your coat and boots, carrying your overnight bag on your shoulder and ditching it in it’s usual spot by the bottom of the stairs. Beau had the fireplace going and through the back windows fat, fluffy flakes fell down against the black sky. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said. You spun around to spot him working over the stove in a dark green flannel and long white sleeve henley, the sleeves pushed up on both. You came up behind him, ducking your head under his arm, inhaling deeply. 

“Fuck, that smells so good.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head before you pulled away. You went to the table where an unopened bottle of wine and expensive bourbon sat. “What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is Emily is at a sleepover tonight and Tim and Lucy have graciously offered to take her Christmas shopping tomorrow and let her spend the night at your place with them. We got two whole nights to ourselves.”

“How’d you swing that?” you asked, opening the bourbon, pouring a glass for each of you.

“They did offer honestly. But they’ve been bugging me about wanting to work a case together. I’ve refused cause of their relationship but I said I’d give them a test run and if they work well, I’ll consider doing it again. Otherwise I’ll delegate them back to their respective office corners.”

“Have you picked out a case yet?” you asked, handing him his glass before you sat up on the counter nearby with your own. His eyes raked down your body, taking in your cream sweater, maroon skirt, and lingering on your black tight coated legs. 

“I’ll see what comes across the desk next week. I’d like to push them both a bit, see what they’re made of.” He stirred the creamy sauce in the pan before him, using a smaller spoon to taste test.

“I’m sure they can handle it,” you said, taking a sip of the smooth bourbon. “Tim tell you anything particular today?”

“He did,” he said, turning a burner on low, quickly checking the oven. “Twenty minutes and dinner will be all set.”

He picked up his glass and hummed around the lip, stepping over in front of you. “He’ll make a good father and husband.”

“I know he will,” you said. He pressed forward, your legs widening before wrapping loosely around his hips. “Funny they were going to take it slow and a month after sealing their bond they got their whole lives planned out.”

“Is my omega jealous?” he teased, your head quickly shaking. He chuckled, setting his glass down before resting his palms on either side of your thighs, leaning in close. “I guarantee the only reason those two are already expecting a pup is because they were so randy, they couldn’t remember to use protection. An Alpha’s brain gets all…twitchy when they smell their omega in heat.”

“This is true,” you said, Beau smirking. “You think we’ll have that kind of…reaction my next heat?”

“I have that kind of reaction with you every time we’re together.” Knuckles grazed over the top of your leg, trailing inwards before retreating away. You inhaled deeply, Beau’s green eyes locked onto the way you bit your bottom lip. “Talk to me, ‘mega. What’s going through your head?”

You glanced down to your lap, a gentle hand tilting your chin upwards to face him again. His eyes were gentle, so full of care. You swallowed, placing your hand over his in your lap.

“Tim and Lucy are moving a million miles an hour even when they wanted to go slow.” He didn’t speak, didn’t interject as you gathered your thoughts. And your heart fell for him a little more for him for that. “I know we’ve talked, about all the big stuff. Kids and marriage and I love how mature you are for that and how you’ll give me whatever I want. But dammit Beau, you’re so damn considerate of me all the time. I need you to take for once.”

“Alright. Here’s what’ll happen,” he murmured, pressing his lips to under your jaw. “I’m going to feed you a magnificent dinner. I’m going to fuck you raw in front of that fireplace for hours until we both fall asleep. In the morning you’ll take a shower while I go get your favorite coffee and pastry. I’m going to hold you while we watch Christmas movies on the couch and go for a few more rounds. By the time we’ve worked up an appetite, I’ll be taking you out to dinner at Blackstone’s where you will be wearing the little black number I may have stolen from your closet and is currently hiding in the back of mine. When we finish, I’m going to bring you back home where I will be biting into that bonding gland all over again while you squeeze my knot bare.”

He suckled over your mark, sending chills down your spine.

“You know what happens when an Alpha does that?” he purred.

“Triggers a heat and a rut,” you breathed out, closing your eyes. 

“Now tell me if you want that and I’ll gladly do it. But if you’re not sure yet, then we’ll wait.”

“Beau-”

“You were on the run for a year. You deserve to pick what you want and when you want it. If that means I’m moving slow, then I’m moving slow, and you’ll have to accept that about me.”

“Why don’t you demand more? Why are giving me all the control here?” you whispered. He lifted his head, staring you dead on.

“I’m respecting you, not giving you control.” Your breath stayed caught in your through, Beau leaning his forehead against yous. “Sarah Connor this shit, omega. Don’t be scared and tell me.”

“Your idea for next few days sounded pretty good,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“If I do that last bit, odds are Emily gets a sibling,” he whispered, hand cupping the back of your neck, thumbing your mark. 

“I didn’t take my birth control this morning.” He stilled, your hand pressing against his chest. “I don’t want to use condoms anymore either.”

“What else do you want,” he breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

“You.”

“You got me,” he said, pressing your lips together, soft and slow, lingering together. His heart calmed under you, arm wrapping around your back to pull your body flush to his. “Always.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Six Months Later

Beau POV

“For the love of god tell me why we agreed to this shit,” Tim said beside me. Lucy and Y/N were sitting on the back porch with Emily while Tim and I tried to wrangle an arch made of green and gold colored balloons.

“Because when your little girl graduates from high school, if she wants an obnoxious ballon arch tunnel entrance, you give it to her,” I said, Tim grumbling from the other end as we adjusted the ground anchors. “You’ll learn these things someday.”

“Yeah well my little girl ain’t getting balloon arches like her spoiled cousin,” he grumbled, wiping sweat off his brow. He glanced over at Lucy who was holding Emily’s hand over her stomach, all three girls giggling. He shared a quick glance at me, catching my smirk, before rolling his eyes. “Fine. I’m wrapped around that girl's finger and she ain’t even born yet. You’re the same way you know.”

“Hey, I don’t know if I have another girl coming.”

“Emily told me.” I groaned, Tim’s eyes widening. “You bought that? It’s actually a girl?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” I said as I walked over to him, pulling him around to the front of the house. “We were going to do a little cake later tonight with a gender reveal. Act surprised.”

“I will, I will,” he said, holding up his hands. We walked into the open garage, Tim going to the beer fridge along the back wall and pulling two out. He handed one to me before cracking his open. “So we’re going to have two little girls around here soon. We’re both screwed.”

“Oh for sure. But hey, we’ll be able to have a joint graduation party for them and being a girl dad is kind of amazingly life changing,” I said, Tim giving me a high five as we chuckled. “I uh, heard you’re not pressing charges against Jenny Hoyt.”

“And?” he said, taking a long drag from his bottle. I shrugged. “Her bloodwork shows she’s no longer Primal, she told the investigators everything about Brock turning her when she was younger, the orders he gave her, attacking me. She’s a victim and her life’s hard enough without me sending her to jail. I never want to see her again but when she gets out of rehab for that leg, she should be able to start over again somewhere. You got a problem with that?”

“Nope.” I set my beer down after a sip, picking up a pile of plastic table cloths stacked on top of folding chairs. “Your daughter will be lucky to have a good man for a father.”

He didn’t say anything, only popped his beer on top of my tool bench and picked up four chairs at once. We carried them to the back, making a few more trips to get everything into the large tent set up out there.

“Boys,” Y/N called, walking over on bare feet across the grass. “Take a break. We called in reinforcements.”

“We only got a few hours before the party starts,” I said, Y/N putting her hand on her hip, the bottom of her shirt riding up around the swell of her belly. 

“Exactly. A long ass party where you two will be drinking, cooking and I’m totally sure not getting competitive with a bunch of highschoolers when they decide to play volleyball over there. Sit your butts down in the shade for a few.”

“But-” She crossed her arms, her shirt riding up even more, my eyes drawn downwards towards it.

“You have a huge ass family sitting in hotel rooms and Air B&B’s right now. They can help. I already talked to your mom and people will be here within thirty to help. You can boss them around when they get here but until then, sit down.”

“I for one know better than to argue with a pregnant woman,” said Tim, holding up his hands as he slipped past, gently rubbing her belly as he went. “Tell your momma to take it easy on your pops, little nugget.”

“And you?” she asked when we were alone, my hand reaching for hers. 

“Technically I’m in the shade,” I said, pointing to the tent above. She narrowed her eyes, pushing me to sit down in a folding chair. “Am I getting a repeat of my private bachelor party?”

“Later if you behave for me right now,” she said. I kicked my feet up on the table and put my hands behind my head, Y/N smiling before sitting in the spot next to me, throwing her feet into my lap. I rubbed them gently, her eyes fluttering closed. “If my feet feel like this at six months, I can’t imagine how it’ll be when I’m ready to pop.”

“We’ll have to get you some easy slip on shoes for the house, give you a bit more support.” I worked her sore feet for a few minutes, Y/N letting her eyes open after a bit. “Remember to take some breaks and go cool off in the house today. You keep doting on Lucy and you’ll push yourself too far.”

“So we should get our husbands to dote on us?” she teased. “Yes, yes that’s an excellent idea.”

We both turned when we heard Emily shriek, Tim instantly by her side, holding her arm. Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket a few moments later, smirking at her screen.

“Lucy says she got stung by a bee,” she said, shoving it away as Tim went inside with Emily.

“Girls,” I said with a tsk, Y/N slapping my arm playfully. “Don’t get me wrong. I love girls but y’all are silly.”

“It’s a good thing we’re having a girl then,” she said, my smile growing. “But we are not buying a bunch of girlie shit.”

“I’m not much of one for pink for girls, blue for boys,” I said, Y/N grinning. “Oh was that a test?”

“No but I like the sentiment. I totally bought the cutest little blue onesie with yellow elephants on it yesterday and I don’t care at all if it was in the boys section.” 

“We got to raise a badass after all and there’s nothing more hardcore than yellow elephants,” I teased. She cocked her head, sliding her sunglasses down over her eyes before getting to her feet. “Where you going?”

“Oh, I was just thinking there’s no way on earth you don’t know how good you look sitting there in that backwards baseball cap and sunglasses.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me more,” I said, pulling my feet down and resting my chin in my hands, grinning up at her.

“I think you ought to go…lay down for a few minutes. Get your…rest,” she said, voice low, a hint of roughness to it. 

“You mean you want to go…”

“Yes, Beau,” she said, tickling my bonding gland for a split second, making sparks shoot through my body. She pulled away too fast though and was stepping away. “I’ll be waiting.”

She’d barely gotten a step away before I was out of my chair, following in her footsteps. Less than a minute later we were upstairs, Tim and Emily thankfully having retreated outside to continue decorating.

Y/N locked the bedroom door after herself, spinning around with a smile as she pushed me to lay back on the bed. “You know, Omega, we got ten minutes at most before we need to go back.”

“Mr. Arlen, you need to learn to delegate,” she said, pulling her shirt off of her head and shoving her loose running shorts down to the ground. Her underwear went with it and with a quick reach behind her back, she was dropping her bra on top of the pile at her feet. “But if you want to be put to work, I have some ideas.”

I sat up on my elbows, eyes drifting up as Y/N crawled over top of me, straddling my hips and staring downwards. I swallowed when she reached between us to undo my belt and with one helpful shove, my shorts and boxers were at my knees, my feet working to kick them off. She traced a finger under my chin, sitting back on her heels to give me room to rip off my shirt, my hat and sunglasses going flying in the process.

“Mmm,” she hummed, planting her hands on my pecs, sliding her body downwards, both of us grinning when my cock slid through her folds. She suddenly froze up, eyes fully of worry.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Your back? I can-”

“Fuck, I want your cock in me but I want to be careful too. I don’t want you in me right now,” she said quietly, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry-”

“Sh, sh. We can have plenty of fun without penetration,” I said, gripping her thighs. “Rock back and forth and rub yourself off on me.”

“Are you sure that’s enough to get you there too?” she asked. I chuckled, my hands sliding to her waist, pushing my cock through her folds, the head of my cock hitting her clit and earning a sharp inhale of air.

“My hot pregnant wife rubbing herself off on my dick? Oh yeah, that’s not sexy at all.” I moved her body again, Y/N relaxing more. She bit her bottom lip, grinding against me. “That’s it, nice and easy.”

We fell into an easy rhythm. She slid back, I pulled forward, smirking as she bit harder when I hit her clit.

“Love to get you off, omega. Can’t wait to put another baby in you.” Her lips parted, my hands grasping her harder. “You like that? You want another baby?”

“Fuck, ask me again in six months. Until then don’t stop talking like that,” she said, voice deep and whining. I rolled my hips as I yanked her forwards, Y/N joining in and giving us both more pressure. Back and forth, back and forth.

A thin layer of sweat broke out over my body, Y/N panting atop me. I was close but she needed more time. I forced my body to relax as I moved my hand, rubbing my thumb against her clit as we rocked together. Her thighs flexed, locking my hips tight.

“Come on, darlin’. Come on,” I said, encouraging her. 

“Talk dirty, please,” she gasped, moving faster, looking for her end.

“Can’t wait to put that next baby in you. Watch you ride my cock like last time. Remember how you milked my knot so hard you nearly passed out? Feel my knot? Fuck it wants-“

I wasn’t prepared for Y/N to reach behind herself and wrap her hand around it, giving my knot a firm squeeze. I came hard, rubbing Y/N until she was tensing up, squeezing my arm with a soft moan.

She rolled to the side, my eyes closed tight, heart pounding in my ears. 

“Beau,” she said, shaking my arm. “Beau, are you okay?”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled, my body flooded in post orgasmic bliss. I turned my head, forcing my eyes to open. She smiled, running her hand through my sweaty hair.

“Did I break your brain?” I hummed, smiling lazily. She reached a hand over my cock, giving the knot the tiniest of squeezes. I came over her hand, Y/N wide eyed as she gently milked me through it.

An incoherent garble of words spilled past my lips, Y/N’s hand working my knot like her pussy would have. I’d have sworn I was floating if not for her other hand on my head to ground me, praising me through it all.

“Good boy,” she murmured when my knot finally deflated, my stomach and her hand a mess. “You ever do that before?”

“Get my knot milked by hand? No, it’s too sensitive but damn, when you do it…” I made an explosion sound, Y/N giggling into my shoulder. “You have fun?”

“Always,” she said, turning her head up and kissing me. “Want to make out in the shower before we go back out there?”

“You always have the best ideas,” I said, sitting up, scooping her up in my arms.

“Dad!” Emily shouted from what sounded like the bottom of the stairs.

“What?” I called back, stopping near the door, double checking it was locked. 

“When you’re done being a horny teenager, grandma and grandpa are here!”

“Give us five minutes!” I shook my head, Y/N smiling in my arms. “Children. Are you ready to deal with another one of her in eighteen years?”

“I can’t wait for it.” I smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. She looked so innocent, so light and happy unlike on the night we met all the months ago. What I wouldn’t give to tell that girl just how wonderful life would be for her soon enough, how she’d turn so many of our lives around. 

I carried her into the bathroom, holding her tight, excited for what the future would hold.

“Me either, omega.”

A/N: Well, that's all folks! What'd you think of this one? Would you ever want to see more of this world in the future? 🤔

[vamphyxia-siims]

Sul Sul !

hi ! welcome to my simblr, i'm @vamphyxia !

my name is lucie, i’m 22 (she/her)

it all started with mysims and sims 2 (yes, the weird one from the series) on my pink ds lite, which really stuck with me. later on, i fell in love with the original sims 2 (thank mom). and i played it a lot when i was younger, you know, looking for bella, flirting with the whole town as don lothario... and wait, why this baby is green ?

it’s been about 3 years now since i started recreating some premades from the older games (mysims, sims 2, urbz, etc...) and for a while i’ve been wanting to share my creations and the story, so here i am! you’ll find builds, lookbooks, and the evolution of a save called nostalgia. i’ve made so many sims and decorated so many lots that never got shared, so this account is finally their place to shine.

you’ll also find some cc finds here too. i plan to get more into cc creation since i’ve started experimenting a bit ; once i have made something i’m proud of, i’ll post it !

this blog is wcif-friendly :) would love to find some mutuals too, so feel free to like/reblog! 🩶

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Surprise

Sequel.

Uh. I forgot to say this was a Normal!AU in which they're all just kpop bands but with F!reader amongst them.

They're all humans.

Rumi and Jinu are just rivals.

And Mira and Zoey are going out.

You were at your house and scrolling through different job offers.

It's been a month since you quit.

When you quit being Huntr/X's assistant, you had enough savings to last you a decade of not working. If you didn't splurge or buy games.

But you did do those two things for like a whole week.

So that decade was halved and now here you are.

You sigh for the fifth time as you consider a manager gig.

"Fuck no. I don't want to see Rumi anymore." You say out loud but you know that it's an impossible thing to do. After all, she was a superstar. One for out of your house and you will somehow hear their newest single or one of their classics.

And it doesn't help that the trio somehow finds a new number everyday to call you.

You look through your house and sigh.

"Time to be productive." You clean your house that day while you wait for more job offers.

-

Rumi looks at everyone around the table and sigh.

"Still won't talk?" Zoey and Mira shake their heads.

"When she hears it's you, me or Mira, she immediately hangs up." Zoey says and Mira nods in agreement.

"Bobby?"

"She blocked me too! I was going to offer her a managerial job too."

"She probably doesn't want to. She probably wants to avoid Rumi as much as possible." Jinu says and Rumi scoffs at him.

"Shut up."

"I was just stating facts. If it was me trying to move on from someone who can't even tell the public that they love me? I would want to avoid them as much as possible." Everyone nods in agreement.

"You're not helping." Jinu holds his hands up.

"Just saying." Zoey gets a bright idea.

"Have YOU tried calling her?" Everyone looks at him.

"Hmm. I should give it a try."

-

You hear your phone ring and pick it up, hoping for another interview or job offer to come through.

"Hi. You've reached Y/N Y/LN. How can I-"

"You sound polite." The voice makes you freeze. It was familiar and not familiar.

"M-may I ask who this might be?" You sit on your couch.

"Jinu. I'm the leader of the Saja boys."

Ah. Rumi's new boyfriend. The one she told that you were just her assistant.

"Ah. Can I help you?" You can hear his chuckle.

"What a sudden change. You must hate me, right?"

"I don't hate you, Mr. Jinu. If this all you called for then-"

"It's not. Make sure to watch the Huntr/x's portion of interview later tonight. You'll find a surprise waiting for you."

"What?"

"I informed you. Oh. And one more thing. I absolutely have no interest in Rumi. She and I are purely work rivals."

"I-" He hangs up and you look at your phone.

"What the fuck?"

-

You were playing games on your console when you look at the clock.

The exact time those late night shows usually start.

"Fuck off. Stop thinking about her. Stop." You say to yourself but groan as you know your curiosity had already won.

"GOD! FUCK YOU, JINU!" You shout to your ceiling and save your game. You browse through the channels then stop as the screen shows Huntr/x appearing and sitting on the couch.

"Welcome back, everyone!" The host greets them warmly and the trio greets everyone.

"So. Your new single has been absolutely fire. Takedown has reached new records this week."

"It has truly been a blessing. Writing Takedown took so much out of us. We spent late nights buried in notebooks, lyrics and with our instruments." Zoey muses.

"I remember you always dragging Y/N to go on late night snack shopping."

"Right! Y/N! Most of your fans have noticed that your lovable assistant has been missing."

"What? The fuck????? ME???????" You question your life.

You????? PEOPLE NOTICE YOU?? HOW???

"Well, yeah. Y/N quit." Rumi says bluntly and everyone, the hose and audience gasp at the information.

"She did? Damn. That woman has always been a force of nature. Back when you guys first started, she always made sure you guys had more than enough screentime. I think if she could, she would the editor like a hawk." Everyone laughs at that, including the trio.

"Y/N has always been protective of us." Zoey says fondly.

"I'm telling you guys, she's really the true delinquent." Everyone chuckles at Mira's joke.

"She quit because of me. I was being insensitive. I was being secretive."

"Secretive? Of what?"

"My relationship with her." Everyone gasps and you freeze at her words. "Y/N and I are girlfriends. I never revealed it to the world because didn't want her to get hurt. For our fans to come after her." Rumi chuckles. "But to my surprise when she was just gone for a week, everyone looked for her." Rumi looks at the camera. "Thank you for caring about the girl that I love." Her words make your heart beat faster.

"So, is this you coming out? Are you saying that-"

"I'm bisexual. All three of us are." Mira and Zoey nod in agreement.

"And another announcement! Me and Mira have been dating for the past couple years!"

"That one was obvious, Zoey!"

"Yeah! Everyone knows!" Zoey shows a surprised at Mira who chuckles.

"Wait. They do?"

"Zoey, #MiraZoey always trend. Baby, you should really look at trend topics more." The endearment makes their fans squeal.

"I hope Y/N is watching this." Rumi looks at the camera then bows slightly. "I'm really sorry for making you wait. For saying you were only my assistant. But you're not. You're my partner in crime. My ride or die. You and your protective nature always shielded me and the girls. I have always loved you for that."

You turn off the TV quickly and you stare at the ceiling.

Why now?

Why do this when you left already?

"We both know why." The voice in your head says and you sob.

Because you were never enough.

Because you were just average.

Huntr/x and Saja Boys are gods. Idols.

What were you compared to them?

You cry to sleep that night.

-

You wake up to a loud knock on your door. You look around and see that it was just 6 am.

"Who the fuck knocks this early?"

"Y/N!" You scramble at the familiar voice. Why is your sister here at your house in the city??

You open the door and see Yuna.

"Finally. Pack your bags."

"What?"

"I'm dragging you back home. Pack for a week."

A/N:

Second part!

Third part is probably the last.

Probably.

Don't quote me.

Thanks for reading!

Donate if you can, because I'm still broke and PH economy is fucking annoying.

Ko-Fi is on my masterlist.

[this-acuteneurosis]

I just found Don't look back (and first of all I love it, you are brilliant, I am barely finished the first fic but I am invested) and I spent some time digging through your tumbler for mentions of obi-wan/leia....because from these beginning interactions I have sense something and I am now invested and kinda confused????

Was this intentional...? Is this going somewhere...? There are no tags for their relationship but by other asks I see on your blog I'm not alone in this thinking.....

I hope she finds happiness. In the beginning I was hoping for some warped way for Han to join her because I love them together so much, but I also do love obi-wan and I am pleasantly hooked on their relationship now

I've answered asks similar to this before, but I keep getting them and we're far enough into the story that I think I can say some things more certainly without spoiling anything, or the plot magically changing on me. So here we go.

So. Like Fire in Our Bones. Leia and Obi-Wan meet for the first time, and I was happy with the scene, and then I posted the chapter and a whole mess of people popped out of the ground were like, "Romance?!?!?!" Keep in mind that this was before the Kenobi show was released as well, so we had no canon where Leia knew Obi-Wan as a child. DLB runs under that assumption.

So I was all, "Oh, surprise," but I'm a very ship and let ship sort of person, and once people pointed it out, I was like, yeah. Sure. They can have this vibe. They would, honestly. I've got a pretty strong head canon that Obi-Wan has been flirting to survive for decades at this point, and Leia is socially savvy enough to roll with that kind of behavior as long as it's not distasteful. She also saves him, and they bond, and I don't have a problem with people reading into that. I think it's reasonable. It's pretty textual at this point.

HOWEVER.

Once upon a time I also thought this story would be 200k words, max. I thought Leia would end the series having reconciled that Anakin wasn't Vader, but wouldn't be close to him. I though Satine would never make an appearance and Cody would be the first clone to like Leia instead of the last, and yeah. A lot of things started changing once I was actually writing the story.

At the beginning of the story, I knew I didn't want to write Leia a romance. A) because I wasn't sure who it should be with and, B) that was way past the where I expected her to be healing wise in her grief. But the story kept getting longer and she and Obi-Wan kept having moments, and I was like, I mean...maybe? Maybe something happens? I can't say no for sure anymore.

BUT!

We're far enough into the story now and I have a much better sense of how this last arc is going to handle the remaining grief Leia is dealing with, and also how much time she'll spend with Obi-Wan. I have no intention of doing a romance for her in this arc. Look how long it took me to get Anakin and Padmé together. We do not have time for that. So I've left Leia with no romantic pairing tags. Officially, the story will not be about her having a committed, happy, healing romantic relationship at this point. It will be about what it always was: cooperation and unity beating back the darkness, and how you have to fight for those things so you don't lose them when you need them most.

But if it makes your heart happy to imagine that all the remaining scenes with her and Obi-Wan are a prelude to something that happens later, feel free to enjoy them that way. Write as much of your own fic or draw as much of your own art as you want. Feel free to share it with me too. I've enjoyed reading the other divergent fics people have done of this story.

Just everyone, please be nice to each other. :)

[pastryfication]

pretty world — chapter one

her move to london was supposed to be her fresh start. an opportunity to find herself anew in a place where nobody knew her name. but just as she finds herself settling in, ollie bearman happens. and despite her reservations, he barrels past every one of her well-built walls and ruins her plans.

playlist | series masterlist

The professor was droning on and on in front of the screen. The principle he was enthusiastically explaining had made perfect sense when she learned about it in her native language, but in English, the words seemed to jumble together, and she had given up in following along already at the beginning of the lecture. Now, she was just doodling away in her notebook, trying to look interested in what the elderly man was rambling on about.

Her first week in London had been good. Quiet and uneventful, but good. A few girls from her class had invited her to eat lunch the other day, and just like that, she was starting to grow her social cycle in the British capital.

She had been good at adapting, at figuring out all the new, unfamiliar social cues. All her years of quiet, polite smiles seemed to finally be paying oL in a way that gave her fruition.

When the professor finally started packing up his things, signalling the end of the lecture, she was quick on her feet, moving out the room quicker than anyone else.

The building was busy, students lining all the hallways as she made her way out. She had study hall later, but until then, she was completely free.

For a minute, she considered texting one of her new friends to get a coffee, but she was afraid to push, to overstep in the still new connections, so instead her finger found way to her saved favourites and tapped her brother’s name.

Lorenzo picked up after two rings, a smile evident in his voice. “Hello,” a bit of shuLling was heard on his line. “Did my little sister finally decide to call her favourite brother?”

“Hi, Enzo.” She laughed softly. “Sorry I haven’t called earlier.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry. I’m taking the lack of contact as a good sign. Are you settling in good?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” She hesitated for a moment, looking around her at the grey skies threatening overhead the big park area. “Everything’s so diLerent from home ... and yeah, I don’t really know anyone, but it’s also nice.”

Lorenzo’s voice was soft through the line, and she could almost imagine the overbearing big brother smile he was wearing. “It’s okay to find it hard at first.”

“No, it’s not hard.” She looked down at her worn out sneakers. The tops were getting wet from the damp grass. “I just have to find my place here, I guess.”

He sighed good-naturedly in a way that made it easy to imagine his facial expression. “If you say so... just remember, you don’t have to prove anything. Not to me. Not to anyone else.”

She sucked in a deep breath at his words, but her resolve remained the same till the subject inevitably changed.

-

She chatted with her brother all the way back to her room, revelling in the company, before they said their goodbyes and she promised to call both Arthur and their mother before long.

She was the kind of person who enjoyed her own space, but the silence in her tiny student apartment felt so overwhelming that she almost regretted not signing up for a roommate, just to have someone, no matter how unfamiliar, to fill the silence that threaten to strangle her every time she stepped inside.

As the unwelcome feeling overwhelmed her, the small slip of paper sitting on her kitchen counter seemed to suddenly be the only thing she could focus on. It was a small slip, ripped oL the corner of a napkin and crinkled from being carried around in her pocket. On it was a scribbled number so crooked that it could only have been written by a teenage boy.

Ollie had handed it to her with a crooked smile and a “Call me if you ever get lonely or need a tour guide.”, paired with an awkward scratch at the back of his head.

She was originally going to throw it out as soon as she came home, but something in her had stopped, and put it there instead.

Ollie had been nice. Welcoming and open, but still a bit shy and held-back in a so charming way that she hadn’t been able to stop smiling throughout the night. Had he been any other guy, she would have been over the moon to get his number after such a great evening. But he wasn’t. He was everything she was trying to avoid. Everything she was desperately trying to escape.

It wasn’t his fault that his job and everything it brought was so sensitive for her. It wasn’t his fault that she had been so exposed to the spotlight that she had grown to resent every innocent photographer and fan who just wanted to feel close to their idol.

She hadn’t chosen that life, and maybe because of that, because the only conscience choice she had made was to get away from the high speed, over exposed life of Formula 1, it felt so much more wrong to contact a boy who stood for all that. (No matter how cute he looked with his messy hair and goofy grin)

But still, despite that, she didn’t throw out the slip.

—

Ollie was waiting for a call. He tried to pretend he wasn’t, but he couldn’t stop the way his thoughts kept drifting back to her; to her soft smile, the way she nervously twisted her hair and most importantly, the way he hadn’t stopped smiling the entire night.

He thought they had connected, thought she had felt the same, but apparently not.

Wouldn’t she have called or texted him if she did?

He had never been very caught up in the idea of love or crushes, no, karting had always been his entire life, but this was as if destiny had handed him the perfect girl on a silver platter.

What were the odds of him connecting with the sister of one of his coming colleagues—and on top of that one that had been nothing but welcoming to him? It seemed almost too good to be true. She would be able to understand his world like none of his former girlfriends had.

But it was too good to be true. He was getting ahead of himself. He knew that. But wasn’t that better than not giving it a chance at all? It seemed to be what she was doing, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him a bit frustrated.

He was driving to Haas’s location in Oxfordshire with his dad a few weeks later to prepare for the season, but until then, he was staying with some friends in London to get the teenage experience before he started his real grown-up job.

Maybe that was what his frustration stemmed from. Stress. Insecurity.

Why wouldn’t she just call him?

[skmhlml]

Now that you made a Burning Spice cookie x sweetheart wife reader, could you do an one shot "drama to comfor" where it was a normal day at the Spice Kingdom but when Burning Spice just went to go grab a gitt for his precious wife, but then some random killers almost got her but Spicy saved them but because if how badly the killers got her she got very badly injured but still alive. .

Please I need it !!!

Burning Spice Cookie x Sweetheart!Wife | One Shot |

Date requested: 6/18/2025

Warning: angst -> Fluff

The Spice Kingdom was basked in warmth that day, the sands glittering under the blazing sun. Trade was steady, music filled the streets, and laughter danced on the wind. It was just another peaceful morning—until fate decided otherwise.

Burning Spice Cookie had excused himself early from your shared morning tea. He was cryptic, muttering something about “a quick errand” and “no peeking at my side of the bed,” the way he always got when preparing a surprise.

You smiled, still in your flowing desertwear, humming as you swept the balcony of sand that had settled overnight.

You didn’t see the cloaked figures scaling the stone wall.

You didn’t hear them until the blade caught the sunlight, the glint searing your vision.

⸻

They came fast. Too fast.

Three of them—dressed in foreign garb, weapons slick with oil and poison. Assassins. Mercenaries. Hired blades with no cause but coin.

You managed to scream once before one tackled you into the ground. Your cheek scraped against the sandstone, a blinding burst of pain erupting as a dagger sank into your side.

⸻

He felt it.

Burning Spice Cookie was halfway through bartering with a jewel merchant—holding a delicate amber pendant the same shade as your eyes—when the air shifted.

The wind howled.

The sun flared.

And his heart stopped.

He didn’t run. He ignited.

⸻

By the time the killers realized the ground beneath them was melting, it was already too late.

A geyser of flame erupted through the floor, incinerating one immediately. The others tried to flee, but were swallowed in a cyclone of burning glass and sand. Burning Spice Cookie’s roar echoed through the walls like a dragon from the oldest scrolls.

He didn’t say a word as he approached you—bloodied, unmoving, your chest barely rising.

He dropped to his knees, cradling your body against his chest, hands trembling. You were still warm. Still alive. But barely.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice cracking with a rage only eclipsed by grief. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

⸻

You woke up three days later.

Wrapped in silk sheets. The room was dark, the torches low, but the air was warm—not from the desert heat, but from the Cookie hunched beside your bed.

Burning Spice Cookie hadn’t moved in three days.

He looked different—haggard, hair untied and disheveled, his cloak thrown to the floor and forgotten. His flame eyes were dim, almost dull, as he stared at you with a haunted, aching silence.

“…My spice,” you croaked.

The second your voice reached him, he broke.

He lunged to your bedside, gripping your hand with both of his, pressing kisses across your knuckles, your wrist, your forehead. His flames flared dangerously near the bandages, but you didn’t care. You only felt his warmth.

“You’re alive,” he breathed, forehead pressing to yours, eyes clenched shut. “I wasn’t sure I could bear a world without you.”

“I thought I was dreaming…” you whispered. “You saved me.”

“I wasn’t fast enough,” he growled, voice thick. “They touched you. Hurt you. You bled—and I wasn’t there. I should’ve—I should’ve burned the world down the moment I felt something was wrong.”

You reached up, despite the pain, and cupped his cheek. His breath hitched, his head tilting into your touch like a wounded beast.

“You’re here now,” you murmured. “You always find me.”

His jaw trembled. “I shouldn’t have left you alone…”

“You were getting me a gift, weren’t you?”

“…Yes.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Then give it to me now.”

He hesitated. Then, from beside the bed, he pulled out a delicate chain—the amber pendant now blackened at the edges, singed from the heat of his return.

“I ruined it.”

“No,” you whispered, letting him clasp it around your neck. “It’s perfect.”

⸻

He stayed with you through every hour of recovery. He fed you, bathed you, held you as your body healed and the nightmares came. You never cried alone.

And when the sun rose again over the scorched remains of the assassins’ corpses—displayed in warning on the edge of the kingdom—you knew no one would ever dare to touch you again.

Not while Burning Spice Cookie still breathed.

And burn, he would. For you.

Always.

[croquettish]

First of all, really love your meta! Especially your takes on Hans and the depth with which you analyze the game's dialogue. But did I miss something, how is Sam also queer? Are there any signs in the story? I know about the rings (which seem to be a case of the reused assets to me), but is there anything else?

Thank you so much!! 🥹

If you read between the lines, there are a lot of hints! Sam is incredibly protective of John to the point of endangering those around him (Henry nearly killed his two best men). Even with all the reassurances in the world, he only agrees to Henry's request to see John under the condition that he go there unarmed and blindfolded. And even after John has cleared Henry, Sam still stays and drinks with them. There likewise seems to be a tremendous amount of trust between him and John that I would argue wouldn't necessarily be there (or at least not in as intense a form as it is) if there weren't more there.

If you listen in on the dialogue while Henry is blindfolded (it's quiet!), you'll hear John speaking to others there. His tone is surprisingly firm for someone who could very well just be a "guest" being protected, never mind the part where he's talking about finding intel on whether someone has male or female lovers. The people there treat him with nothing but respect and will even take orders from him. And when the progrom happens, John is allowed to come along. You could argue that they could use all the help they could get, but recall that Hans' aid was turned down! John was trusted to help save his mother and to extract important documents.

All of this wouldn't be unusual for a long of characters, mind you, but Sam isn't a very trusting person. He's distrusting by nature, and he has good reason to be! His people have been persecuted since time immemorial and they very much continue to be in 1403. We learn that Sam just took John in without question, but even that feels like a statement. You'll recall that I've previously talked about the commonalities between medieval Jews and sodomites, both of whom were (along with others) viewed as inherently heretical. Both are marginalized groups that could only exist openly in marginalized spaces, spaces situated outside of the expected societal "norm" where being Othered is a given. John enters such a space willingly and looking for protection, being as openly fruity as he is. Sam meets this vulnerability and takes him in without question.

If we consider that the storytelling in KCD2 is done with intent (and there wouldn't be this much meta for me to write about if it hadn't been), then we can also consider that the parallel here is intentional and meant to reflect Hansry. Here we have two people in a marginalized space, one of whom is a noble who willingly entered that space after finding himself in a place of vulnerability. The peasant in question, well-acquainted with both vulnerability and marginalization, opened his arms to him.

Actually, while my mind is whirring, let's take this a step further. Because I'm still obsessed with the jamuel art drawn by @lookitsstevie, let's assume that while Sam takes him in, he still distances himself and keeps himself away from John for a while before they actually get together (the yearning!!!). That would so neatly parallel both Hans' attempts at pushing Henry away (yeah I've totally got this not at all fake girlfriend also named Karolina in Bohunowitz that I totally slept with don't you loooove sleeping with women Henry I can't wait until we get trashed again!!) and then Henry pushing Hans away later as well. That one is more of a stretch, but you get me.

Finally, the rings. I hear what you're saying about reused assets, but there's a lot of counterpoints to all of this that should be taken into consideration:

Reused assets are definitely a thing, but mostly for minor NPCs, not major characters. Consider how surprised everyone was by the (very effective!) fakeout with Captain Thomas and his unique character model.

Those rings have Sam's name on them. I don't think there would be a reason for random NPCs to wear rings like that.

The sartorial style choices by the major characters in this game were clearly meticulously considered and decided on on a case-by-case basis where everyone is unique. No one else is dressed in the dapper way that John is, for instance!

The rings were not there from the start. They were added in with Patch 1.3.1 with intent.

We all did collectively consider that they added the rings in error and were pleasantly surprised when Patch 1.3.2 didn't take them away. As we know, Warhorse does keep its finger on the pulse of what the fandom is saying, and there's no way that the collective celebration over the canonization of Jamuel would have gone unheard by them. Even if John's ring was initially added in error, this means they were left there with intent.

One could say that Sam gave John a ring with his name on it (Did he... did he just have that casually lying around? Why would anyone own two rings with their name on it, it's not like he needs a spare, this seems very odd if not done with intent) to grant John some element of protection within the Jewish quarter, a sign that John is under Sam's protection, but it ends up coming off almost as a sign of ownership more than anything else, like "you touch him and you deal with me," which in and of itself feels tremendously gay. Moreover, we know that John doesn't really leave the tavern to begin with. Raborsch is a rare exception where he's able to go out, and even there he's accompanied by John!!

All in all, I'd say you'd struggle to argue that this ship isn't canon, which of course would automatically canonize Sam as queer as well.

[crueltyserpent]

You can put anything in a girl's head these days. The cerebral intrusions are getting better, cheaper, and easier to use every day. I remember back when i was younger, you had to buy these two hundred dollar single use electrodes that were on the end of spikes. Each one had to be pushed through the skull, which took some force, in a very specific place, and if you got it wrong the rewiring pulse would just kill them, and when you got it write, sometimes they'd just hemorrage it out a few days later anyways. I remember me and my pal were raping this busty english teacher we had, and when we went to wipe her memory of it she started vomiting up blood so intensely she died from not breathing before anything else. Corpse was a fun toy but we were in deteniton for the rest of the year after that.

A few years later the I900s came out, they were a real game changer. Came out just under a hundred, and you could just wrap the mesh around a the victims skull, and it would only take a few minutes. You still had to overpower them physcically first, which was annoying, and the detail was limited; wipe the last few minutes, the whole memory, alter a few large scale things; you could turn a girl into a slut who didn't really want anything but sex, but you couldn't even get as specific as being obsessed with you in particular. Still, the average IQ of bitches i knew worth fucking dropped maybe 40% in the few months after it's release.

The main marketed feature of the Cerebro7 was the ability to change someone's name, which was fun, but less practical than you'd think. Sure, it was cute to rename my girlfriend at the time "Cunt," but it's not like that wasn't all I called her anyways. But the real thing that was special about those was that it was around the time brain implants were getting popular, and it was the first one you could save complicated instructions into their head. The thing i got really into doing at the time was finding girls with litttle hobbist streams, have them start one called "tit reveal stream" which always got the audeince in, then have them messily kill themselvs live. If you've ever seen that gif of the cute girl with the pigtails deepthroating a power drill, that was one of mine. bitch reviewed ceramics. Getting to do it wireless is recent, and a huge change. no more dragging someone into an alley, no more drugging them out, i hardly ever go into a coffee shop these days without rewriting a few minds. I don't think hardly anyone who doesn't know to take countermeasures has their original personality intact at this point. You? Bitch, you think you knew me at the start of this conversation? You came in here with your girlfriend, who we just killed and ate. God, feel that? You can even program a girl to get off to their own existential horror nowadays.

[lvl109]

to: captain save a hoe calebbbbb ): the aircon is broken againnnn ): requesting immediate assistance before gf melts into a puddle of sweat and tears

you'd sent those messages ten minutes ago. caleb shows up at your apartment door with a tool kit and ice cold gelato within the next thirty.

you hum happily as you bite into a spoonful of strawberry gelato as he works on the stupid machine, humming faintly to himself as your attention splits between him and the movie that had been idling on your screen a few feet away. but the screen becomes far less interesting very quickly over watching your boyfriend tinker away with laser focused precision, soon ignoring the movie entirely to watch him.

sweat beads on his arms and forehead as he works, pausing momentarily to wipe it away. your arm moves mindlessly from cup to your mouth, but the taste of strawberry goes unnoticed. you blink and his shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. you don't bother to look for where it landed.

were the curtains drawn open when he came in? you don't even remember. but the sun decides to favor him despite it being the reason why it was one of the hottest days of the year. turns out even the sun can't help but shine over your knight in... less than armor coming to your rescue against heatstroke.

with a proud exhale, caleb soon stands back with his hands on his hips as the air conditioner finally rattles back to life, immediately pushing cold air into the living room. he turns around with a wide grin to find you already looking at him and offers a thumbs up. "your refrigerant was damaged and blowing hot air into the room, but it should be good now!"

you blink once, then nod. whatever a refrigerant was. "oh, really? i didn't know that. thanks."

"i'm glad you texted, y'know. i'd hate to have come home later and found out you were suffering in the heat like that." caleb moves to pick up his shirt, drawing your eyes like a magnet to his arms. "i'll look into getting you a new one installed instead of having to rely on this old thing. sound good?"

your gelato is melting with negligence. somehow you can't find it within yourself to care that much. "sure. thanks, again."

his head tilts a bit at your less than enthusiastic answers, a frown settling on his lips much to your surprise. "you're sure you're okay? the heat hasn't gotten you that bad, right?"

before you can even answer, he crowds into your space and places a hand to your forehead. your heart rate spikes immediately in response and you nearly crush the poor cup of gelato-turned-juice in your hand. his brows furrow slightly, now moving to cup your face.

"hey, are you okay? your face is really hot. why didn't you contact me sooner? and your gelato is already melted—you were burning up in here!"

you don't have the heart to tell him he's the reason behind your sudden rise in temperature, only offering a weak smile to his fussing and succumbing yourself to his fretting. his very shirtless fretting. arms. muscles. what was he even talking about?

"you're going to be alright, okay?" a cool towel is placed on your forehead after he lays you down on the couch, the cold sensation making you sigh a bit in relief. the tension in caleb's face eases a bit as he gently strokes your face. "yeah? that feel good?"

his smile is so soft when you voice your affirmative, patting your arm in consolation. "don't move. i'll get you more gelato."

maybe a thanks to said stupid machine was due.

[ezisregrettinglifedecisions]

This is an expansion of my whole IKEA and Charles Leclerc thing.

Lestappen Centric

☆☆☆

I get the vibe Charles just would love ikea trips, like he loves the showrooms, his favourite place on earth is the market hall and he loves all the food in the restaurant.

He seems like he'd live in reasonable driving distance of an ikea to satiate his love for the shop

Like he'd deliberately pick an apartment based on its proximity to an IKEA.

He has an IKEA family card. He whips it out of his wallet like it's 500 in cash

He would deliberately drop it on the floor in front of Max and when Max asks about what he's just dropped, Charles would grin and go -

"Oh this old thing? It's just my PRIZED POSSESSION."

I'm also a supporter of Lestappen adopting children and so -

When they find out, Charles immediately runs to the computer, he's had a moodboard of furniture ideas on Pinterest for months and now he has the excuse to do a bulk shop -

"Max I have found the perfect furniture."

"I told you 2 hours ago we got approved?"

"I've had it saved for months."

"I- you know what... nevermind."

Charles makes sure to buy a bunch of useless crap as well since that's what IKEA is famous for-

"Charles. Pray tell. Why do we have an octopus sock hanging drying rack?"

"He's cute no? I was going to name him Octy."

When Max decides to stage an intervention, Charles is horrified.

"But Max! When I was lost without you I still had IKEA. You can't take my one true love away from me!"

Max is unimpressed.

"One true love? Excuse me? I'm right here."

"Eh."

The next day, IKEA is a banned website on their WiFi.

Max finds Charles with his WiFi turned off the day after, scrolling on his phone in the kitchen, and surprise surprise, it's the IKEA app.

When they get engaged, Max thinks about killing Charles when he finds him making his bouquet out of flat pack screws, dowels and other typical flat pack components.

"Charles you cannot be serious. You're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed I can stop anytime."

"Give me your phone."

"...no."

There are also several other occasions where Max tries again to stage an intervention.

They mostly end the same way.

"If you loved me you would accept my love for IKEA."

"Don't push your luck. You have a problem Charles."

"No, you don't push yours. If you don't accept me, maybe I'll be marrying IKEA next year instead of you."

"You cannot... be serious right now. You can't marry a Swedish furniture store!"

"Watch me."

Max continues to try to raise their children in a sane environment. It doesn't last.

"Charles please. We can't get a dog and name it IKEA."

"You named the cats after clubs in monaco!"

"That's different!"

And finally, Max thinks it's all calmed down. Charles has visited IKEA once in 6 months, their store of frozen meatballs had slowly dwindled, no new flat pack furniture had been ordered.

Then the new downstairs neighbours moved in.

Who routinely liked to come home at 3am, clanging and banging and shouting about lost keys. And Max has lost more than enough sleep to make a man mad. And then, when they wake up the kids one time, Max sees red.

And he sees but one alternative.

"Charles. Buy 3 kallax cubes and 2 Billy bookcases in white, please."

Charles is immensely concerned but does as he's asked anyways and three days later they had 5 boxes of flat pack in their living room.

Charles moves around it for a week, understanding Max enough to not dare ask whether or not he should build it.

And then. The neighbours from hell come home at the lovely hour of 3am and Max wakes up, but not with anger. No, instead he wakes up with a smile that strikes fear into the hearts of all that see it.

He gets up, sits in the living room quietly, listening to whatever carnage is going on downstairs and keeps smiling.

And once the clock reaches 7 30, he grabs his phone, playing a mix of Guns n Roses, Nirvana and Edith Piaf, connecting his phone to his speaker and placing it on the floor.

And then, he opens the flat pack.

And he took great pleasure in every time he dropped a tool, stomped around on the floor, or had to use his hammer.

At 9, Charles walked in, rubbing his eyes.

"What the..."

"I did the flat pack."

"I can see that... why at... 9am?"

"If our neighbours won't let us sleep, maybe I won't let them sleep off their hangovers."

Charles shrugged, liking how Max had gotten his own back on their neighbours from hell.

"Oh and when you take the kids to school, make sure you let the door slam behind you."

Max became a little more tolerant of Charles' love for IKEA after that. In fact, he went on a few trips to the shop with him, learning slowly why Charles liked the place, though no where near to the degree that Charles did

Until the day came. When their kid first asked the question.

"Daddy... what's 'IKEA'?"

Max froze.

"How... do you know... what 'IKEA' is...?"

"Papa told me. So when can I go? Papa said its a mystical shop full of magic and wonder."

"CHARLES!"

fin.

I honestly wish I know what this was. I'm tired and I miss IKEA. I haven't been in like 4 months. I think it's affecting me.

Also the story with the people in the flat below, building flat pack and playing an array of music loudly is actually a true story. I also wrote this on the beach so if there's any mistakes I blame the fact I was on a beach.