#“only one more chapter” she said 4 chapters ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redwing4life · 7 months ago

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Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ��em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @m3ntally-unstable @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378 @angelbabyyy99 @selella @itvy5601 @noonespecial90 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @ordelixx @krispybearbouquet @matchat3a @cl7ire @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @julvrs @anghstybean @eah-marvel-trolls @pono-pura-vida @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

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celestie0 · 3 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

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“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue.

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders.

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them.

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied.

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you.

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come.

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed.

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too.

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that.

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes.

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day.

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly.

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute.

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together.

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path.

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy.

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side.

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds.

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place.

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add.

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one.

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight.

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too.

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his.

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too.

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it.

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around.

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight.

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason.

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now.

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt.

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm.

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face.

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.”

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat.

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you.

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days.

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world.

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore.

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet.

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry.

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

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godmadeaterribleerror · 6 months ago

Text

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

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acid-ixx · 2 months ago

Note

They aren't finished but I wanted to give you these! They're all WIPS so so far. Some are a bit older and you can tell what the newer ones are that I just made right now.

Thank you for posting a new chapter. It was an amazing read and I just loved it so much! Still trying to find those song references 😂

chapter spoilers and drafts (again &. again)

— masterlist ! ; chapter 4 ; ash's commisions

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A BLESSING??? BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER I SWEAR 💞

ash, you have always provided my little fanbase for my series so much food for thought, this is absolutely beautiful in every way. i literally don't care if they're wips or unfinished because either way you always make do with what i write, descriptive or not. i love your artstyle and how soft you draw the mc and how handsome conner is (i literally showed your art off to all my friends). you're so talented and i wish to reciprocate all the efforts you've done for this series 😭

i'm serious. from your portrayal of the mc, to them flying with conner, you never once disappoint anyone.

because of this, i'd like to leak some parts of my story from chapter five and beyond 💕! thank you so much for this, and i hope my yapping below suffices.

major spoilers below the cut!

the graduation photo! i have something planned with that, and i'd delve so much deeper (soon) with just how much a single photo can influence bruce's line of thought once he discovers that picture frame. love how happy mc is in the photo because, for me, it symbolizes them growing up (quite literally) and acknowledging a new path in life, alongside only finding alfred as their only father figure compared to bruce.

you consider yourself reserved, and prefer your life living within the confines of privacy and protection from media exposure. your mother always told you: better safe than sorry once; right after you've asked her about why you can't seem to find personal information about your father when she helped you search him up occasionally.

all the questions you ask her about the lack of your father's preferences — because you merely wanted to know more about him beyond the stories she told you! — she rebutted with a soft smile, a kiss on your head, and an explanation.

she'd warn you about the dangers of media exposure, about how your father and her prefer to keep their relationship a secret, and how too much cameras and paparazzi flashes can blind you.

she said that someone's perception of another person could be ruined once their deepest secrets are revealed. that's why your papa isn't seen beyond the doors of the manor he resides in; because people are attracted to mystery and allure.

hence why she'd restricted you from the usage of any devices within your household during your childhood, other than the excuse of having no money to afford it.

and you always abide by that principle of secrecy; especially right after alfred had saved you from... whatever happened years ago in elementary. from when that man... no, those men knew about your identity...

so, safe to say you were an introvert, at least when it comes to social media. the concept of the fear of missing out never once rattled your brain, no matter how anxious you are whenever you're with your friends; scared that you wouldn't fit in. but they never cared and accepted you with open arms, so it doesn't really matter, no?

you're safe now that you're at metropolis.

and like she always said, better safe than sorry! keep it within you and never out!

so why?

why is it just right after you've opened your twitter app— why is it that your face is plastered all across news accounts?

anyways, the second and third images are so romantic!!! and cute, and cured my depression i swear. i showed this to my one friend and she told me that conner's hand size compared to mc's is straight up hot, and i agree! i love the hand placement, and the way conner holds the mc so softly! yes, i too, would love to touch his man-tits beyond his impeccably tight shirt and play with his hands!

and the cute little panel with him squishing their face and desire their confirmation that, they do, in fact, think they're hot. he's a very insecure man after all, and his self-worth would revolve around your perception of him. he doesn't see you as god, but he doesnt see you as his everything. every opinion matters from you, and that's what makes the green flag part about him.

fun fact about him in the series! he loves to moisturize his hands with lots of skin care products because he read from an article once that some people prefer the feel of soft or moisturized hands. he definitely did not wait for the moment for you to touch him for the first time in forever since he first saw you! yeah, he's a bit more freaky than i let him out to be. the more you're exposed to him, the more you'll learn just how obsessed he is.

as for all the people asking if i'd write more about him: the answer is yes! he's a vital character, so don't worry because he'll appear in many scenes either way. for those concerned about why he didn't save the mc— well, chapter five will explain soon 🩷

and this art perfectly portrays it! it's seen from an outside perspective and they look very pretty, yet from what they see with their eyes is a different thing. the longer you stare at yourself, the more your image is distorted. i intentionally added the flower analogy because flowers are portrayed as pretty, no matter the size and shape. even as they wilt or sag, they still retain some color and a semblance of what was once a history of their prime.

then lastly! the mirror scene. it all returns to chapter three, chapter four was a sequel of their breakdown containing mirrors. reflections and the perception of one self is an important aspect of my series because it reminds me of myself, so them nit-picking each and every insecurity whilst staring at the mirror; that's a scene i wrote based off of a real life experience of mine. having both attractive parents, or those acknowledged as conventionally pretty, whilst being in an environment filled with as equally smart or attractive people, comparing yourself to them all the time, is a struggle.

the only way to make flowers 'ugly' is by destroying them, by stepping on them, ripping them apart, never once caring for them. i think that's very crucial because people do see anything destroyed or stripped away from its foundation a mess, or so. but there's always beauty in everything and i abide by that thought!

again, thank you so much ash for drawing this and bringing my story to life! you, alongside many other users who send in their fanarts, are always such an inspiration for me to write! you guys are the backbone of my series and i stand by my sentence!!! may you get plenty of commissions and plenty of money to support you <333

also, the FLOWER BOTTLE AND THE CAT PAW REFERENCE! i love how everyone accepts that we have a canon cat now based solely off of this. i think that's precious, and having a feline pet is a great little choice for my own plot (just to lessen the pain of the angst).

i hope you enjoyed this little mess rant!

(as for the songs, don't worry, the lyrics become more prevalent for chapter five! chapter four doesn't have any explicit lyrics contained in them, only implications.)

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letorip · 3 months ago

Note

can you write something short and fluffy :( like jenna or wednesday being tired or something

j's lullaby

"darlin' i'd wait for you, even if you didn't ask me to"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: jenna comes home incredibly late and can't wait to collapse into your arms after a long day

warnings: nada, entirely just fluff and comforting someone's exhaustion

word count: 1.2k

A/N: sorry for getting to this now, it was requested months and months ago. feels good to write something sweet for once, and without somewhere to branch off to. i like writing my stories, but it's fun to leave so much up to the reader. maybe i'll do more of these.

===+++===

Even from inside the warmth of your apartment, it was impossible to be unaware of the raging storm outside. You could hear the pattering of raindrops upon the stucco roof in small thuds that had faded gently into the background a good thirty minutes ago and given no indication of letting up anytime soon, either.

Not that it would have mattered. You stood in the kitchen with the kettle going on the stove, attempting to read a rather enthralling chapter of your book in the dim, warm light that hung over your microwave, and then rereading it for a third or fourth time when the words became an unintelligible mess in your head, whether it be from the lack of light or sluggish ability to think.

It was a little too late to turn the kitchen light on, not that you were a big fan of the overhead light, but it would've brought a crude harshness to the drowsiness you were attempting to fight off.

Even night owls had their limitations. Sleep snuck up on you at the wispy edges, pulling down on your eyelashes. The clock on your microwave ticked to 4:28, and you turned the page in your book, hearing the kettle's whistle begin to take frequency, one you were sure the neighbours could hear.

In retrospect the somewhat thin walls were the only thing imperfect about the place, with giant windows and warm, teakwood floors. That and your kitchen's tile floor being kind of cold in the morning, but even then, both you and Jenna wore socks in the house, so it wasn't much of a drawback. You would only live there for a few weeks more anyhow, before you both went back to Los Angeles. In the meantime you could cope with the plush floor rug that Natalie had sent.

With one thumb on the thin page of your beaten up novel and the rest of that hand pinning it to the countertop, you lifted the kettle gently towards your old ceramic mug with the chip in the corner and a teabag’s string hanging over the side. The hot water steamed and gently wafted over the apples of your cheeks, and it added a further weight, the room filling with a flowery smell.

As you grabbed a small spoon from the drawer, the front door’s knob audibly turned, creaking open on its hinges and letting some of the nighttime noise flood in, if only for a moment. You grinned at the noise with an excitement that would’ve been impossible to mask, stirring your drink and calling over your shoulder, down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

The door swung shut behind her and a few, tired steps later, Jenna stood in the doorway. You stayed focused on the task at hand, stirring your tea, but you could feel her eyes stay locked upon your face. She wandered over, coming up behind you where you stood and wrapping her arms around your torso, pressing the plane of her cheek against your shoulder blade.

She held you tightly, as if she wanted to melt together. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. It’s almost 5 in the morning.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” you shrugged. “I wanted to.” Her arms wrapped around you just a bit tighter, holding you there and sighing into the soft, worn fabric of your old shirt.

“I made tea,” you hummed. “Do you want any?” She shook her head into your back, almost purring in contentment.

“‘M too tired,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, you got back late,” you said, pushing the tea mug away and turning around to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, that was a given, but she also looked exhausted, with thick, dark eye bags and the tips of her dark bangs a little bit wet from the rain outside.

“Tim wanted to talk about the big scene we have coming up,” she whispered. You hummed again, watching her with a little bit of concern and she looked back at you with a fondness.

“Come on, off to bed with you,” you straightened up, holding out your hand for her to take, and grabbing your book with a finger left between the binding to hold your spot.

She rolled her eyes with a gentle huff but did not protest, letting you lead her gently into your bedroom. There were still a few candles you had lit for just in case during the storm, filling your room with a yellowish, warm glow, and you blew them out while Jenna got changed into her pyjamas.

“Oh, your mum called, by the way,” you said with a gentle smile, pulling the sheets back to sit on the edge. You pulled your woollen, thick socks off and flung them towards the far wall; you could pick them up tomorrow.

She gave you a sleepy nod, wandering towards the bathroom and sliding the door open. “Just checking in?”

“Yeah, wants you to call her tomorrow… which I guess is now today. She wants to her all about work.” You thumbed open your book while you waited for her to finish brushing her teeth, reading a few lines before she reappeared about a minute later, flicking off the light.

Jenna walked right over, pulling the sheets back and then practically collapsing on top of you, her head nuzzling into your neck. You could feel the cold edge of her nose pressing gently against the edge of your jaw, and it sent a small shiver down your spine. You put the book on your bedside table, sliding your eyeglasses off of your weary ears and stacking it on top, along with clicking the lamp off.

You would’ve planted a kiss upon her forehead, but she seemed all too comfortable for you to shift your position, and you were quite certain— though you couldn’t actually see— that her eyes were already closed and she was letting her exhaustion take over.

“I missed you, today,” she whispered.

“I missed you too.”

“Hm.” You both sat in silence for a minute, and you were convinced she had dozed off until she spoke again, even quieter than before. “Tell me about your day, love?”

“Well, let’s see,” you sighed. “Got up around 10, maybe? Did laundry—”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” she mumbled, nuzzling her face further into you.

“Mhm. Went to the shops. Made dinner. Watched that show I told you about.”

“Did you write, today?” The words were sluggish and slow, and you could tell she was lulling to sleep more and more.

“Nope,” you said with a small chuckle, and you felt Jenna smile against your neck. “I’m still waiting for that burst of creativity, y’know? I’ll find it when I find it. What about you? How was your day?”

But she didn’t answer, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could ask her in the morning, after all. And you could drink the cold tea you had completely forgotten about then, too.

short, sweet, and pretty cute. i'm happy with it. i think oneshots are incredibly fun. also calm yourself, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iv] i cannot stress enough how much i'm excited for it but it is NOT ready yet

#answered #letorip #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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simpee9000 · 5 months ago

Text

Not Just Friends - 5 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Not edited : 10k words !!!

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

Katsuki and his closest friend decided to make a tradition of camping during the summer. The group mainly just inviting themselves in on his hiking trips and making it a bigger deal. You remember at first that he looked at you for help, only finding that you were already discussing with Mina about sharing a tent. You and the girls all shared a tent that year, in celebration of graduation.

But now, only a year later, the tradition stuck. It was beginning of August and the group of you were all getting packed. Preparing to meet at the camping site at separate times due to schedule errors. It was a small campground in all, you only knew of it if a local told you, so you had no idea how Katsuki got on the good side of a local, but he did. It was barely in service, just enough for phone calls, but Katsuki had a strict no phone rule.

Despite him being a grump about everything, the campground is beautiful, a lake in the middle of it all but surrounded by many different hiking routes. You were excited to spend this camping trip next him rather than the girls, curious about all the ins-and-outs of this campground.

You often tagged along next to him for his hikes, it was the main way you guys spent your off days. He always needed something to do, and you wanted to be near him, so you followed.

It created countless stories between you two, either inside jokes about one falling over a tree or just the deep conversations you shared as you hiked the trail.

After the hour drive out of the city, you were met with the lush campgrounds. It was just as breathtaking as last year. Just being in view of it, lifted a weight off your shoulders. It felt like you could breathe better overall.

The two of you were the first ones there. Arriving just before sunset. The rest of the group said they'd be here soon. You attempted to convince Katsuki to wait so you could share a ride with Kirishima and Mina, but he was too impatient.

Once your foot was out of the car, Katsuki started handing you things to set up. Giving you some of the tents he brought and to place them near the already made fire pit. He brought most of the camping supplies for the group, everyone else would just have to bring the things that they wanted.

You decided to wait to put up the tents until others got here, unsure of the pairing. So you and Katsuki got to work on putting up the fold up tables and some chairs out. Grabbing the ice chest filled of your food and setting it near the camp fire, which Katsuki quickly had going. Thankfully the campsite sold firewood, so you had no worries of running out.

The rumble of Kirishima's super duty truck made you turn you're head. Soon enough Mina barreled out of the truck and came running to you.

"Hi," she squeeze you into a hug, "Haven't seen you since the party!" You squeezed her back, it has been a while since you've seen her, the party was almost a month ago.

"Of course you guys show up after we finish setting everything up," Katsuki grumbled, dragging his feet as he walked to Kirishima's truck to help grab ice chests.

Kirishima gave a cheeky smile, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sorry man, I'm free to help now though."

"Whatever," Katsuki scoffed.

Kirishima gave you a wave, "Anything I can help with?"

You looked around, finally pushing Mina away from the hug, "We haven't set up any tents, so maybe that? I just don't know who's sharing and stuff yet."

Kirishima and Mina shared a quick glance, turning a shy red in their cheeks. "Well," Mina dragged out, "E and I are sharing, Bakugo and you are sharing, so we can start there."

"Wait," you paused them confused, embarrassed about sharing a tent with Katsuki.

"Huh?" Kirishima turned towards the tents laying on the ground, "Denki and Sero can share, I doubt they mind. They can set up another if hey have that big of an issue."

"We only packed three air mattresses," you pointed out.

"They've shared a bed before, it's fine. They're bros," Kirishima shrugged. He wasn't getting the point. You looked to find were Katsuki went and saw him grabbing stuff from Kirishima's truck, not having heard a lick of the conversation.

By the time you look back over to Kirishima, him and Mina were already off to the side of the campsite and setting up their tent. Mina struggling to stand as she laughed, hitting Kirishima with the tent pole constantly.

It was enduring to see them mess around, especially since they were finally getting ahold of their relationship. Both of them have been struggling with a label since the second year.

You looked back at Katsuki, who grabbed all he needed from the truck and was now crouched and working on the fire again. You walked over to stand next to him, bumping his shoulder lightly with your hip to get his attention, "We needa set up our tent."

He scrunched his eye brows, looking over to were the tent were then to were Kirishima was. "They sharing?" he nodded his head in their direction. You hummed, rocking on the ball of your feet, stuffing your hands in your pockets. This felt odd.

" Okay," he stood up, brushing the remains of wood of his hands. You stepped away slightly, giving him room to stand without bumping into you. "Where do ya' want it?"

You looked around the campsite. It was quite big, plenty of space for anything. Trees lined the dirt center that was meant for parking cars and the rest of the camping supplies. Where the trees lined the dirt, there was plenty of open grass plots for a tent. Kirishima and Mina already taking one of the grass plots near the cars. So you walked to the other side, leaving the ones in the middle for the boys to chose.

Katsuki picked up the tent and followed you, dropping the tent bag where you stopped. It was quite the distance from the cars so you would have to move the car briefly so you could blow up the air mattress.

You went to unzip the bag, handing Katsuki the poles to connect together while you pulled out the actual tent to space out. Switching jobs so he could anker it to the ground. You quickly saw why Mina was laughing so hard. The pole you were connecting broke apart in one spot and swung to hit Katsuki in the back of the head.

He wiped his head around, "The fuck?" he barked at you. You hunched over laughing, his face was so mad, it was as if you took a dogs bone. "Asshat," he grumbled, turning to finish the last anker. Before snatching the pole from your hand and threading it through the tent. Ordering you to help connect it on the other side despite you still laughing slightly at him.

The two of you did the other side without much issue, putting the rain cover up as well as threading the pole over the door to keep it steady. He quickly trudged off to bring the car. Mina joining your side as you two watched Katsuki set up the air mattress. "I hate tents," she grumbled.

You looked at her tent, seeing it messily set up, all their stuff being thrown in as well, fully set up. "Why?" you asked.

"Can't really make noise if y'know what I mean," she wiggled her brows, nudging her arm into yours.

"I better not hear that," you made a face of disgust.

"Same to you," Mina laughed, "Though I am curious as t-"

"Don't," you raised your hand to stop her, "I don't even want to know."

Katsuki called you over to the tent, currently fighting with the air mattress.

"What even happened?" you laughed the second you peaked inside the tent, he was currently struggling to get the air pump connected to the air mattress.

"Can't find the hole," he sighed frustrated.

Mina erupted into laughter, "That's what she said!"

You stifled a laugh, moving Katsuki to the side as you pushed the mattress into a better angle. Getting the mattress blown up easily. Katsuki getting out of the tent to place the bedding and your guys stuff in the tent to the side. It was a large tent, plenty of space for you to stand up straight, Katsuki only had to slouch slightly to not hit his head in the middle.

He moved the car and left you to set up the bedding once the mattress was fully inflated it. Knowing it go cold at night you threw a large open sleeping bag over the top of the mattress to sleep on top of, knowing that the air mattress would be insanely cold otherwise. Just throwing your pillows at the end of the bed and then half-assly throwing heavy blankets on top before shuffling out of the tent, hearing Sero and Denki pull up, music blasting.

Katsuki was instantly barking orders at them.

"Chill man, we brought the booze," Denki laughed, opening the truck and pulling out a cooler, Sero doing the same.

"How fucking much are you planning to drink?" Katsuki went wide eyed at the two full coolers of booze.

"We'll probably have to buy more," Sero shrugged.

"Huh? How?" Katsuki looked dumb founded.

"I mean," Sero pointed and count the group, "there six of us, five of us wanting to get drunk nightly this weekend. We all need to drink a lot to get drunk as well."

Katsuki whiped his head to you, "You drinkin'?"

You shrugged, "I mean yeah- wait Sero?"

"Yeah?" he looked up from where he was fishing a beer out of the cooler.

"Did you pack my wine?" you stepped closer to him.

"In the car," he nodded towards the car. You quickly skipping over and grabbing a bottle to drink for the night. Katsuki was busy yelling at everyone to watch how much they drunk, they still had work monday.

Mina groaned at him, lulling her head over to you, "Can you get the stick out of his ass? He's acting like he hasn't been laid in years."

Your face flushed but you laughed to cover it, "I think it's too far up there for me to help."

"Fuck off," he barked at the two of you, causing you to laugh harder.

The group was standing around the fire, Katsuki making sure it stayed steady. Once you got the wine bottle open you joined them, taking the seat next to Katsuki, stretching your legs onto his arm rest of the chair, knowing he wouldn't mind.

"Y'know, sometimes I forget you two are dating," Denki point at finger between you and Katsuki, that same hand also bringing a beer up to his mouth to take a swig. "I only remember when you do shit like that," he gestured to your legs.

"What do you mean?" you tilted your head.

"Well he'd kill anyone else for that," Denki shrugged.

"Ah yes, you bagged quite a man, one that'd kill some one from breathing wrong," Mina laughed at you.

You flushed, embarrassed that even the ones closest to you barely saw the relationship. You looked over to see how Katsuki took the joke, seeing him staring intently at the fire. Poking at it with a fire stick.

"What's our plan for tomorrow?" you looked around the group, taking a sip of wine straight from the bottle. Wanting to skip past any talk about your relationship.

"I'm going for a hike," Katsuki said, setting down the fire stick and leaning into his chair, arms cross.

"Okay," you dragged out, seeing if anyone would add their plans. When no one added you continued, "So Kats and I are going for a hike in the morning, then we'll be back and we can all go to the lake?" you suggested.

"Sounds good, I would go with but I need sleep, works been rough," Kirishima sent an apology to Katsuki, only to be shrugged off.

"Have you been taking better care of your support gear?" you nagged at him, annoyed about the amount of times you've fixed it just this month.

"Yes mom," he groaned.

"Oh shut your mouth," you scolded. The group laughed at your bickering with Kirishima.

The group quickly fell into an banter, all thankful they got the weekend off from hero work. Glad they could escape out of the city. It was refreshing. The view of the camp ground and their faces. They looked a least a little more carefree than normal. Tonight was the calm of the camping trip, tomorrow night would be all chatter and drunk games. It was only Friday night and you guys would be staying till Sunday, with work on Monday. It was a short get away but it was all the agencies could agree too. Everyone already ate their meals during the drive here, so all that was to do was set up.

By the time the fire was out, Sero and Denki still hadn't put their tent up. They'd have to do it drunk and in the dark. Katsuki was already well past tired and demanded to get up early, so you couldn't join them. So you had Kirishima promise to watch for them.

With the rest of the group taken care of, you and Katsuki walked off into your tent. Well he walked, you stumbled and grabbed onto his arm, drunk from drinking the whole wine bottle. He unzipped the door of the tent, holding it open for you and closing it behind himself.

"What side y'want?" Katsuki huffed, reaching for his backpack.

You looked at the options for a moment, "The one near the tent wall, I don't wanna be by the door."

"Ight," he was still digging through his bag. You walked over to your side, just about to sit down before he yelled at you, "The fuck y'doing? Change your clothes, I don't want our bed to smell like wine and campfire."

"But you literally smell like a campfire," you pointed out, "And I don't smell like wine."

"I saw you spill it over yourself, and I don't care. Change," he ordered.

"How am I supposed to change with you in here," you grumbled back at him.

"I'll turn around and so will you," he pointed out blandly.

So after grabbing your pjs, you both turned around and changed. You felt the urge to turn and catch a look but you knew that it'd be all you thought of. You laughed slightly to yourself, amused that you've been dating for three years but have yet to change near each other.

"What?"

Your head almost spun to look at him, but you remembered before you did, "Nothin."

"Why'd you laugh?" he asked differently.

You sighed, " Just the fact we are turned away from each other right now," you shrugged your pj shirt over your head, unhooking your bra from underneath it, just in case.

"Want to watch me get naked?" he teased.

A hot wave flashed through you, "Shuddup," you coughed out after a moment. Quickly putting on your sleep shorts. "You done yet?"

"Have been for a minute," he replied. With the okay to turn around, you quickly climbed into bed. Only then did it sink in that you'd be sharing a bed for the first time. Seeing him lift the covers and joined you excited you. It was a first, and it was thrilling, even if it was just sleep.

"Y'know," you moved closer to where he got comfortable, "We've never shared a bed."

"I'm aware," he peered down at you. He had his head rested on the pillow, arms above his head as he laid on his hands.

"It's weird," you whispered, like you were admitting a secret. You moved yourself to lay onto your stomach, propping yourself up with your arms.

"How?" he asked softly, matching your tone. He adjusted himself, getting into a better position to look at you. Even in the dark, you could see his vibrant red eyes peering at you.

"Like," you looked away from him, overwhelm, picking at the blanket that was over your shoulders, "Feels different, we live together but we don't share a bed, but now we are. Feels like a new step without the other foundations in a way."

"What other foundations would we need?"

"Well none I guess, but we didn't choose this one fully," you shrugged.

"I knew we were going to share, did you not?" he nudged your calf with his leg, grabbing your attention.

"Not really, I'm happy we are, just," you paused, "I don't know."

You heard Denki and Sero laughing from their tent, clearly in a struggle to set it up.

"I get it," Katsuki said after a moment, "Feels like we are doing things in a weird order."

"Yeah," you yawned.

"Go to bed," he order softly.

"Goodnight," you muttered, plopping your head onto your pillow.

"Night."

---

Katsuki woke you up just before sunrise, slightly shaking your arm till you woke up. He already has his hiking bag made, filled with stuff for the both of you. Shoving you a granola bar and a protein shake before he left you to change.

After slipping into some pants, aware of the brisk mornings. Katsuki having warned you while you packed. With your legs warm, you threw on a tank-top with a hoodie over it. Tying your shoes before fighting your way out of the tent, meeting Katsuki at the end of the campsite road.

"Finally," he immediately stepped off, following the tree line. Having you jog slightly to catch up to him.

"Do you sleep okay?" you questioned, worried you kicked him or something in your sleep.

"Yeah," he replied. Well, at least he didn't sleep bad. "You?" he looked over at you briefly, before looking back up, turning into a trail that went out of the main camping area.

"Yep, best in a while actually," you followed him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, trailing through the forest. The trail seemed like it faded in and out, clearly not used often enough to keep a path.

Leaves brushed past your pants as you walked through, following each step he made, keeping up with his steady pace. He often looked back to make sure you were still behind him before he made a turn slightly off path, getting yourselves deeper into the forest. It was a steady up hill for the most part, up until you hit a rocky area with a steady climb.

Katsuki easily jumped up the first step, even with it at waist height, reaching down a hand to help pull you up. He let you walk in front of him from then on, just pointing you towards where to go. Letting you climb up the slight rocks, prepared to catch you if you fell, even if it wasn't higher than five or so feet. Soon enough you were standing taller than the rest of the camp, being able to see the lake and even our campsite from the top of the rocks you climb.

"This is," you let out a breath, "wow."

"See, if you didn't get wasted last time I could of shown you then," he reminded.

You ignored him, watching how the sky was slowly gaining color from the sunrise, a faint pink and orange hue barely kissy the horizon.

"This isn't even the best part," he tugged on your arm, lightly dragging you away from the cliff edge. He went in the opposite direction from the cliff, walking through the small forest that coated the top of the rocky mountain you were on. He held unto your hand until you heard the faint noise of running water. Pulling you in front of him as he guided you to the small pond that ran off the cliff edge and into a small creek.

"Why didn't you drag me with last time," you slapped his arm lightly, walking over to the water, crouching down to feel the water. It was freezing.

"You were bitchin'," he shrugged. Setting his backpack down near a tree.

You started untying your shoes, taking them off along with your socks. On a whim deciding to unbutton your pants.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. You turned your head toward him, his face was flushed as he looked away.

"I'm getting in," you shrugged.

"You're wearing a swimsuit?" he looked back over, still red in the face.

"Nah," you pushed your pants down, "I just wear my underwear, it'll dry."

"It's fucking freezing in that water," he pointed out, looking away once again.

"Scared to join?" you teased, folding your pants and setting them on top of your shoes, doing the same with your hoodie and tank top.

"Oh fuck you," he groaned. Not wanting to back out on a challenge, he tugged his shirt and pants off quickly, leaving them on a rock near his shoes. Joining you just as you started stepping into the water.

You flinched at the temperature but forced yourself to fully get in, letting the water reach your shoulders. Hair tied up to stay dry. Katsuki was by your side after a minute.

It was funny to think that last night you changed facing away from each other, but now you were only clad in underwear and in a random pond. It wasn't a first to be around each other in underwear, you've lived together for a little over a year after all.

"Water's not too bad," you commented.

He shot you a glare, "I hate the cold."

"Ice baths are good for you though, lots of health benefits," you chimed, knowing he hated being told something he hated was good.

"Fuck em," he grunted. He let his face fall into a pout as he stared at the water as if it was his enemy. His arms crossed to hold in any warmth. Butterflies filled your stomach as you looked over his feature. He was made but he looked soft. The worries of the hero world gone, if only for a moment. He looked back up at you, "What?" he bit out.

"Nothin'," you shook your head, "Cold?"

"Obviously," he rolled his eyes.

You stepped closer to him, having stuck at arms length from him. "Hug?" you offered.

"How will that help?" he coughed.

"I don't know, body heat?" you stepped closer.

"But you're fucking freezing too," he pointed out.

"Come on, Kats," you held out your arms for him. With a pout of your lip, he groaned and stepped into your arms. Wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you towards him. "See, not to bad," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He nudged his head into your shoulder, "Shuddup." The tips of his ears stayed red from his blush, the heat from his face warming your neck. "Your warm," he muttered, pulling you impossibly closer, his watch scratching your back lightly.

You scratched at his hair, letting your hands play with the strands at the nape of his neck as you looked around. Soaking in the moment. The sky was slowly waking up, the orange and pinks that were barely visible before, took up the entire sky. A steady blue warming in as well. Katsuki let his shoulders sag into your touch as he pulled his face away, catching your attention.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled, embarrassed as he let his eyes track over your face.

"What's up with you?" you laughed shyly, "All boyfriendy recently."

"Just getting used to things more I guess," his voice was soft, but rough from his daily screaming matches with the boys.

"Took three years?" you pointed out. Watching his eyes as he looked over yours.

"You said I can do what I want right?" he asked, referencing your words from the other week when he kissed you for the first time since graduation.

You flushed, "I did."

He looked over your features again before his eyes fell to your lips. Letting his hand unhook from your waist and gently cup your cheek, just as it had that night. He admired your features for a while, letting his thumb barely trace your bottom lip before he leaned in himself. Letting himself fall into the kiss.

You tilted you head and pushed into your toes, letting yourself get impossible closer to him. Letting your body curve into his, fit alongside his perfectly. You let your hands hold unto his hair, pushing him deeper into him. Grasping onto his hair when you felt his tongue trail alongside your bottom lip. You're mouth falling open, begging him to continue the kiss.

Whining when he pulled away, out of breath and eyes lidded. "You're fine with this?" he asked hoarsely brows still furrowed from how he kissed you.

You just tugged him closer to you in response, locking your lips against his. Luckily, he quickly ran his tongue over your lip again, letting it slide into your mouth slowly. The kiss left a buzz going through your body, making your fingers twitch tighter into his hair, wanting nothing but more. Air could wait. You let your tongue fight with his for a moment, playfully toying with the new feeling of kissing him like this, before you gave in, letting him take over the kiss completely.

His hand dropped away from your face, falling back to your hip and he pulled you closer, fully into him. Groaning lowly when your thigh hit him, it falling between his legs.

The groan snapped you into reality. You were making out with Katsuki, and you felt him against your thigh. Clearly enjoying it. Just in attempt to see his reaction, you move your thigh slightly, making another groan fall from his lips and into your mouth before he pulled away from the kiss. Lazily look down at you, "We should probably stop before we.." he trailed off, his eyes falling on your lips again.

"Yeah," you nodded in agreement, looking down at his lips, plump and rosy from kissing.

Both of you sat in a daze of staring at each other, only breaking out of it when you heard faint talking in the distance.

You quickly scrambled off each other and to your clothes. Throwing them on as quickly as possible, wringing out as much water as possible beforehand. You did not want to be caught half naked in a random pond. It would wreck his hero image.

With clothes thrown on you quickly walked back towards camp, running into the couple you heard from the pond on your way down. Stopping when they asked for a picture with Katsuki. Which he was in a good enough mood to agree to.

After getting out of earshot, you started giggling to yourself. "We are so lucky we heard them."

He laughed breathlessly near you, "Yeah, would of gotten an exclusive photo otherwise."

"Your fan girls would have my head instantly," you added.

"You'd kick their ass."

You smiled at his faith in you, "Thank you, that's what I've been saying. Mei thinks I'm crazy."

After only a few tumbles, you were back at the campsite, letting the laughter from the previous conversation flow out of you. Everyone was awake when you got back. All prepared to head to the lake.

"You guys were out for a while," Mina commented, a hinting tone to her voice, "Why are your clothes wet?"

You looked down at your hoodie, the fabric of your bra having soaked the front of your shirt, just as your underwear soaked your pants. Katsuki was in the same boat.

"I took a dive in the water for a moment," you shrugged, "I'm going to put on a swimsuit, we can head out after."

And you did just that, Katsuki doing the same just after you.

You met up at Mina's side, she was in the middle of teasing Denki for how he applied sunblock.

She eyed you, "So, you guys were gone for a whileee."

"Yeah? We went on a hike?" you asked back, confused at her tone.

"You left at 6, it almost 10," she pointed out. You paled at the realization.

"It was a long walk," you defended.

Denki snorted, "Yeah a long 'walk'," he did air quotes.

Lucky enough, Katsuki was in time to hear that comment and swatted him upside the head. Denki squawking at him.

---

The lake was calm, water a perfect temperature along with the weather. Only a few other campers were at the lake but they were a good distance away. You would be able to mess around with your group without having to worry about being too loud or press getting photos.

You guys had set out chairs next the shore and some coolers, one filled with alcohol and the other having food. When the sunblock was all applied and dried, you and Mina instantly ran in. Her challenging you to a race and easily beating you.

"Mina!" you heard Kirishima shout before he tackled Mina into the water. You stepped back from the two, seeing them actual start to drown each other.

"Hey."

You squeaked, scared of being dunked. Turning to see Sero smirking at you.

"Scared of some water?" he teased.

"I'm scared of being drowned by a pro hero, yes," you turned back to watch Mina and Kirishima start to calm down. Unfortunately seeing them start making lovey eyes and leaning in.

"I'm so thankful you and Bakugo don't do that," Sero cringed, turning away from the site.

Memories from the pond flashed through your mind, shooting a quick glance at Katsuki, who was leaned back in a foldable chair. Legs stretched out and arms crossed over his stomach. Head fully leaded back and face the sky, with a hat blocking his fat from the sun.

"I doubt me and him would ever do that," you agreed, shaking your eyes off of Katsuki.

"You guys were gone for a while this morning," he elbowed you.

You scoffed, "It's a long walk."

"Yeah sure," he laughed, "At least we didn't have to hear it."

"Nothing happened," you shoved him into the water.

Sero started making kissing noises.

"Shut up!" you hushed, looking to see if Katsuki heard. When you aw him lift his hat slightly to peak at you, you jumped Sero. Submerging him under water as you smiled back at Katsuki.

Once he put his hat back over his head you let Sero go.

"I know I'm a hero and everything but damn your strong," Sero laughed, coughing some water out.

"Don't cross me," you jokingly threatened.

"You guys seem to be doing better though, he didn't throw your shoes off his chair last night," Sero commented, voice low so others didn't hear, "Was he just off that party?"

"No, he just doesn't like his hands touched for too long," you shrugged, "He always shakes my hands off after a couple minutes."

Sero hummed, "Well I'm getting a beer, want any?"

"Nah, I'll drink the rest of my wine tonight though," you twisted in the water, letting the water swish near you.

Soon you heard Mina start giggling, so you turned and saw her and Kirishima obviously flirting. "Guys!" faked throwing up, "Get a room."

Mina groaned, "You're just like Bakugo," she stuck her tongue out at you, you doing the same.

Before you saw anything more you decided to bug Katsuki, walking out of the water and grabbing a towel to wrap around you shoulders before walking to his seat. With the new shade you moved his hat off his face.

"Hi," you smiled down at him, happy to be here.

"Hey," he returned, "Why ain't you in the water?"

"Missed you," you shrugged, "you should join us."

He hummed, looks around the lake. "We brought the paddle board right?"

"I think Kiri set it up," you looked around for it, seeing it leaned against the picnic table, "Yeah he brought it."

Katsuki stood up, stretching slightly before moving over to it. You had trouble keeping your eyes off the way his back rippled with each movement. He grabbed the paddle board and placed it in the water, "Hold it will ya?" he gave you the foot strap, making you keep it from going too far away as he walked to grab some fishing stuff.

It was small hobby he hardly got to do, but he loved it all the same. Once he grabbed a fishing pole and the right bait he walked back over to you. Setting his stuff down to the said as he grabbed the foot strap from you.

"Get on," he directed, holding the board still. Unaware you were going with you quickly put your towel down before carefully getting on, keeping yourself near the front so he had room on the back.

He handed you the paddle and his fishing gear before he joined you on the board. Taking the paddle from off your lap and pushing you guys off the shore and into the waters.

"Don't fuck on that paddle board! I want to use it later," Denki shouted from his spot next to Sero.

"Shut your damn mouth," Katsuki wacked him with the paddle once close enough.

Denki and Sero crackled out a laugh as Katsuki paddled away from them, further out into the lake.

He was mumbling under his breath. Before he could let it consume his thoughts more you spoke out, "It's beautiful here."

You looked around the lake, it was surrounded by greenery, cliff formations closing the lake in, making it feel closed off from the rest of the world. It was peaceful, Cottonwood trees shedding and filling the air with small puffs of white cotton, it looked like a dream.

"Yeah, last year you were too drunk to remember anything," he poked. Reminding you of how last year you were stumbling around half the time. You hardly remembered that trip, just the bruises that followed when you got back. You had countless scratches covering every inch of you.

You turned to shoot his a glare, seeing him looking amused at your frustration. "Well at least I had fun, you had a stick too far up your ass to have any," you shot back.

He glared at you for a second before letting his face rest again, paddling you guys into a small cove, good for fishing and still in sight of your group. Slowly you turned to face him, careful not to shake the board much.

Katsuki was tying on a hook, looking down intently at the knot. His brows furrowed as he focused. You watched as he tied it off and attached some bait before throwing it in.

Only then did he look at you, finally feeling your eyes on him. "What?"

"Just funny watching the symbol of strength tie a knot," you grinned.

He rolled his eyes. Silence took over for a moment, a heavy breath falling from his lips, "It's still all crazy to me."

"What is?" you shuffled slightly, leaning back on your hands rather then having your back hunched.

"Everything," he looked around, "Like, I really am number two."

"Yeah, you are the shit," you joked.

He shot you a look, sighing, "Not even just that, I'm second and I'm fine with it. Obviously I'll beat Deku soon, but for now I'm content."

Feeling the shift of the conversation, you joined in, "Well you've grown up a lot, you're not who you used to be in middle school anymore."

"It's weird," he looked down. Playing with the string at the end of the pole. "So much has changed but so little at the same time. I've become a top pro hero but I'm still closest to our class in UA."

"Yeah," you nodded along, watching how the sun hit his hair, " I mean, I'm in the top of my business yet I'm still dating you," you teased wanting to lift some weight from the conversation.

He looked up at you, keeping his head down, "No idea why you are. Our relationship is one of the things that haven't changed at all."

"Which is good," you finished for him.

"I mean at all," he added on, "We haven't changed our relationship since second year."

"That's not true," you frowned at him, "We've grown closer, we live together now, we go on dates," you started to list.

"You know that wasn't what I meant," he raised his head, moving to reel in the fishing pole, no longer in the mood for it. Connecting it to the side of the paddle board, securing it so he didn't have to worry about it. Same with the paddle, letting you guys drift with the wind.

"Then what do you mean?" you were trying to get him to say it. He's been hinting at it for ages but hasn't actually said it.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "Need me to spell it out?

"Yes actually."

"We've kissed five times in the total of three years, having know each other since we were fuckin' five," he explained.

"Yeah and?" you pushed.

"E' and Mina have been dating for all of three weeks officially and have probably done everything under the sun," he stated.

"What does that have to do with us?"

"It's just my fault, you've apparently have been wanting to and I've been holding you back," he confessed, shame filling his eyes as he looked at you.

"I'm fine just with you by my side," you answered, leaning up to grab his hands. A spark shooting out before you could.

"Fuck sorry," he dipped his hands in the water, then turned his watch on and his quirk off.

"Have you figured out why you spark?" you wondered, looking at his hands.

He looked back up at you, his eyes clearly searching for a way out of the conversation. His quirk activating clearly setting him far from the idea of talking about it anymore. "I just was trying to keep the watch off to test it earlier," he shrugged.

"No," you shook your head, " I meant overall."

Katsuki paused, looking back down at his hand. You wanted to comfort him, he was obviously not willing to talk about his quirk but you wanted him to confined in you.

Before you could cut in, his hands shot out and grabbed you by your knees, pulling you into him. He smirked at you, wearing his classic grin he wore in battle. The one that made you weak. Your hands flew to his chest to keep balance. "What are you doing?" you squeaked.

Instead of giving an answer he leaned down and crushed your lips in a kiss.

In just the span of a month, you doubled your kiss count with him, and made out with him.

You held your hands steady on his shoulders, letting yourself fall into the kiss, bones melting into his hold as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

A gasp left your lips as you tied to deepen the kiss, pushing yourself more unto him.

Unfortunately in the process of doing that, you pushed both him and yourself off the paddle board. Breaking apart before you hit the water.

You came back up laughing together.

---

Everyone only got tired of the lake way into the afternoon. Finally decided to go back for dinner. Which would take a while to set up as it is. Especially with Katsuki wanting to cook a steak on the fire. While he seasoned the steak he left Kirishima to start the fire.

You took your wine out of the cooler, quickly taking the cork out. Everyone, minus Katsuki, was well over tipsy. Having been drinking since the start of the day, so you needed to catch up.

Mina stepped to your side as you poured yourself a cup. "So," she swayed, "Bakugo's a lot calmer today than yesterday."

"Okay?" you focused on how much wine you poured yourself, having a third of your wine in one cup.

"And I saw you two on the paddle board," she hinted.

"Okay?" you took a sip of your wine, finally looking at her.

"Saw you kiss too," she stated.

You flushed, "What are you getting at?"

"Did you guys do it in the forest?" Mina asked excited.

"What?" you coughed, "No!"

"Come on, you can tell me," she pleaded, "Me and E have a bet going."

"We did not have," you lowered your voice, "sex in the forest."

She huffed, "Lame, did you at least do something?"

"Mina," you groaned, embaressed.

"You did!" Mina squealed, "What did you do?"

Katsuki heard the squeal, being only ten or so feet away, and turned his head, "You did what?"

You lost all color in your face, throat going dry. He only just started kissing you. You didn't know how'd he react you telling Mina of all people. You didn't even know if Katsuki talked about that stuff to other people, he didn't even talk about it with you.

"She's just telling me what you guys did in the forest," Mina teased.

Katsuki face flushed red.

"I didn't tell her anything!" you cut in, "She's just making stories to herself."

"Get your nose out of it racoon eyes," Katsuki spat.

You were relived he wasn't mad at you. You didn't know how you would handle that.

Picking up your cup, you decided to drown out the thought with some more alcohol. Switching to listen to the boys banter about who could get a brand and be plain faced during it. Clearly it wasn't wise to keep them near the fire. Deciding to no longer watch that shit show, which Mina joined to egg them on, you walked up to Katsuki. He was still seasoning the steaks, eyes focused as he carefully chose what to add. You stood being him, uttering a small hi before you raised on your tip-toes and rested your chin on his shoulder. Getting his view of the steak.

"Is Mina giving you a rough time?" he mumbled, voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

"Not really," you wrapped your arms around his waist, "she just really thinks we had sex."

He scoffed but didn't add anymore, he just let you watch him. Only pulling away when it was time to put the steak on the fire pit, having them hover on a small grate to cook fully.

---

You stared up fascinated by the stars, they covered the entire span of the sky. With the pollution in the city, you hardly saw the stars unless you were out in the mountains like you were now. It was a breath of fresh air in so many ways. It calmed your soul.

Every part of this camping trip did. You and Katsuki got time together, away from the stress of the world, and you got to spend it surround by your closest friends. They were always lively but you could tell they were even more alive with this trip. It's been the thing you guys talked about all summer. Planning every moment so you could live it up to the fullest. Yet, typical to the group, you guys didn't follow a single plan. The only plan you did follow was getting drunk each night. The group will have downed every last drink in the cooler by the end of tonight.

You looked back down towards the group, they were laughing at the old stories they shared from high school. It was a bond you didn't have with them. After the first year, you were back to a somewhat normal high school experience. And you'd rather forget that year, everything went horribly. You looked at the back of Katsuki's head, watching as he shook his head at what Sero said. You don't think you'd ever forget how you had smeared Katsuki's own blood on his face, trying to keep him with you. Fighting to stop his blood from flowing out of him before he pulled your hands up to his face weakly.

Tears blurred the look on his face, and you hated that you might of forgot his face. Might of had your last moments with his face foggy with tears. It ate you up inside.

The wasn't the only time you've seen him like that, and it wouldn't be the last, but it definitely set a dark tone for each day he left for work. Worried he wouldn't come back that same night. Wouldn't be there to yell at you for reading too much and not there to complain about your shows. The fact that you'd have to eat his last premade meals without him.

You worried about your friends too. You glanced at Mina. There was a day where each of your friends almost died. Mina have burned her own skin off with her quirk. It was a fate that shattered your heart, yet it happened in the hero world all too often. Denki constantly fried his own brain within an inch of life and Kirishima has broken pieces of his skin off after rough villain encounters. Hell, even Sero was almost strangled with his quirk.

Dark memories flooded your brain. Each day they sacrificed themselves yet they were sitting here without a care in the world as they sipped on their drinks. Sometimes it felt like you were the only one that cared and felt the toll, but Katsuki came home drained enough times for you to know that just isn't true. They find that saving others is worth ripping themselves apart. You shook your head at the idea. It was selfish of you, but you knew they wouldn't be selfish of themselves, so someone had to.

Not allowing yourself to fall deeper into that long fall, you took a deep breath and watch how alive they were right now. The biggest thing about knowing heroes, was that you had to live in the moment rather than the what ifs. Those would tear every inch of you apart.

The trees framing the campsite didn't look nearly as alive as your group did. They sat around the fire, poking fun at each other any chance they got. Bringing up Denki's horrible pick up lines and Kirishima's brick of a head. Their very much alive laughter echoing around your campsite.

The group was stuffed full, sitting around the campfire as they told stories. Alcohol stirring up their blood warm.

"No I swear," Denki laughed, "Bakugo literal came up to the photographer and barked."

"Shut it," Katsuki growled at him.

You were gathering supplies to make smores, craving them with the energy of camping. Arms full you walked back to Katsuki and dumped everything on his lap. "Thank you," you hummed, ignoring his protest.

Grabbing the graham-crackers from his lap you cracked one for a smore. "Can you prepare one for me too?" Katsuki asked, putting a marshmallow on a stick for both you and him.

"Breaking your diet?" you quirked a brow but prepped a smore for him as well. Placing less chocolate on his than yours because you knew he didn't care for sweets.

"Haven't had a smore since I was a kid," he confessed, handing you your stick.

"Seriously?" you were shocked, "Are you talking about that summer from when we were seven?" Recalling the last time he made a smore well. He boasted about his skills until he dropped his second one into a fire.

"Yeah," he followed your movements and put his marshmallow above the fire, letting it slowly melt.

"You guys are so cute," Mina gushed. Honestly, you were so wrapped up in your conversation with Katsuki and the memories, that you forgot about everyone else.

You felt the warm of your blush in your ears, grateful that it was dark and no one could poke fun.

"I'm serious," she whined at your silence, thinking you were disagreeing, "Childhood best friends to lovers, I mean come on! Who doesn't love that trope?!"

It was obvious she was drunk.

"Mina, you're drunk," Katsuki shook his head.

"I don't know, I agree with her. It's admirable," Kirishima followed.

"Thank you," she huffed happily.

"I don't know how you've stayed loyal for so long," Denki said, fumbling when you all gave him a weird look, "In the sense of never having a relationship with someone else before, not cheating."

Sero hummed, "Yeah, weird to know you guys haven't dated anyone but each other."

Katsuki shot you a look, you returning it all the same.

"Wait," Sero leaned forward, "Have you guys dated other people?"

"I haven't," Katsuki side eyed you as he focused back on his smore.

Mina whined your name, "Why haven't I been told this?"

"Did we go to school with them?" Denki butted in.

"It had to of been during first year right?" Sero analyzed.

"Oh my god," you shot Katsuki a glare, annoyed he pushed you into the wolves, "It was middle school." He was smug, seeing his friends basically gasp in betrayal before they heard the 'middle school.'

They let out a series of 'ohs.' The dots easily connecting for them. They never heard you mention anyone in first year, plus you dormed with them so their was no way they wouldn't of noticed someone you were dating.

"See. Not a big deal," you kicked your foot into Katsuki's. Annoyed at how he made it seem. They didn't know before because it was irrelevant. You often forgot about it entirely until he threw it in your face as a joke.

"Still, didn't you have a crush on him then?" Sero pointed out.

Making Katsuki turn his attention back on you, "Did you?" Another thing that wasn't shared

"Yes," you looked at him for a moment, "Hence why the relationship was nothing." You and Katsuki never got deep into the discussion of when your feelings started. Just deciding to date after agreeing on mutual feelings and never really resurfacing it.

You looked back at your smore, you've been absentmindedly rotating it, a little too low into the fire. It was charred. You pulled it back to sadly put into a smore. Looking at Katsuki ready marshmallow before making yours.

"Awh," you pouted, "Can we trade? Your looks better," you basically pleaded.

With a huff he gave in, "Fine."

"Thank you," you smiled at him happily. Putting your mostly charred marshmallow into his less chocolatey smore and putting his golden brown marshmallow into your chocolate heavy smore.

You looked back at the group after handing Katsuki his smore. Happy with the new arrangement.

They were in disbelief, Denki speaking up first, "We're not just moving past your previous relationship, are we?"

"Why does it matter?" Katsuki butt in, confused about how this turned into an entire conversation.

"How does it not matter?" Sero shot back, "Your entire relationship is a lie."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, "Not really. It's one small thing that you didn't know."

"It was a dumb middle school relationship," you filled in.

"Yeah, a relationship before Bakugo," Mina added on, "I need details."

Now you were rolling your eyes, "I don't even remember his name at this point, it's been like five years," you dismissed.

"You player," Denki cut in. You gave him a 'really' look, "Hey! I remember their names."

"I dated him for a week before we 'broke up,' it was hardly a relationship. I think we just dated for a school dance," you shrugged, biting into the smore Katsuki made for you. Melting into your seat at the sweet taste.

"Why'd you break up?" Kirishima questioned for the first time.

You smirked, glancing at Katsuki who was already shaking his head. Glad that the conversation could be flipped back onto him. "This dude," you pointed your thumb at him over your shoulder, looking at the group to see their reaction, "Scared him off by barking. Seems like a habit he hasn't lost."

Denki started cracking up, hunching over and spilling his beer sightly, "Why do you do that?" he laughed harder seeing Katsuki's face scrunch.

"He was dropped on his head," you answered for him.

Denki fell over sideways in his chair, the alcohol clearly making him laugh harder than usual. He always laughed when you and Katsuki bickered, but never this hard.

"Fuck you," Katsuki spat at you, "Shouldn't of given you my smore."

"You're the one that started this conversation," you shrugged, patting your stomach, "Smore was delicious though. Would of been a waste on your lame tastebuds."

"My tastebuds are normal," he argued. Kirishima laughed. "What?" Katsuki growled at him.

"Bro, you chug protein drinks and don't even wince," Kirishima answered.

"Cause I'm not a little bitch," Katsuki defended.

You and Mina cringed. "I can't believe you kiss that guy," Mina looked at you face holding pure disgust. You snorted out a laugh at Katsuki's face.

"Me either," you agreed, likely for different reasons.

"That's it," Katsuki stood up, standing in his classic gremlin stance. Arms out, hands up, and knees bent. He sparked his hands briefly, which made you oldy relived. It was nice to know he didn't have the watch constantly turning his quirk off, that wouldn't be good for him. "I'll kill you all," he stepped straight past you and marched to the others.

Denki scrambled behind a chair, pointing out at you when Katsuki stormed past you, "How come she doesn't?"

"She has to go home with me, she'll get it," Katsuki stomped towards the electric blonde. You blushed at the way Katsuki said it, knowing the others would think of it the same way as you.

"Ew," Sero gagged, "I don't want to hear about your sex life."

Katsuki's hand sparked brighter, "That's not what I meant!"

"Sureee," Mina teased, sending you a wink, "Hear that, you're gonna get it later."

You were bright red at this point. "Shut it," Katsuki all but shouted, running towards Mina. Quickly chasing her around the campsite. Mina using her acid to slide further away from him.

---

After Katsuki successfully singed everyone at least one, they gave in. Kirishima, Sero, and Denki all having cried 'uncle' when Katsuki twisted their arm behind their back. Winning easily due to them all being wasted. Katsuki quickly yelled at them to go to bed. Wanting them to sleep before the group hike early tomorrow so they were back in time to pack up to go back home.

Just like everyone else, you stumbled into the tent, similar to how you did the night before. Barely able to unzip the tent to get in, having Katsuki open it for you

"You're a mess," Katsuki chuckled, zipping the tent close behind him after he saw you stumble in.

You grumbled, grabbing the ends of your shirt and raising it above your head. It was dark enough so he'd hardly see as well as anything he would see, he saw earlier in the pond. Which was a lot more intimate than this. You also had the liquid courage of wine in your system.

"What are you doing?" Katsuki hissed.

"Huh?" you turned to look at him, shirt off your head and in your hands.

"Oh god," Katsuki snapped his head the other direction, his quirk sparking off before he quickly fumbled for his watch, turning his quirk off. "Put a shirt on."

You reach to grab your bag off the floor, setting it on the bed to put your shirt back in, grabbing a sleep shirt, "Why does it bug you?"

"Your half naked," he exclaimed in a hushed tone, not wanting the others to overhear despite them being at least twenty feet away.

"Need I remind you of the pond?" you raised your brow at him, but followed his wish. Pulling your shirt back over your head.

"That's different," he argued, looking back at you.

"I was also in a swimsuit all day," you pointed out, unhooking your bra from under your shirt.

He flushed so bright you could see it well even in the dark, "Will you stop that?"

"I'm just getting cozy," you shrugged, "You could do the same y'know?"

You pulled off your pants to slip on your sleep shorts.

"Oh my god," he groaned. You would of laughed at his dramatics but he was covering his eyes at this point.

"What's so bad about it?" you asked softly.

"You're half naked," he repeated.

You crossed your arms over your stomach, "And that's a problem?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. Exclaimed. Eyes still covered.

"Y'know," you paused for a shaky breath, "you make me feel so insecure."

"What?" he dropped his hands from his eyes.

You looked down, "You're acting disgusted by my body."

"What?" he repeated, "That's not what-"

"Yes it is Katsuki," you cut him off. You could physically feel like heart drop at you calling him his full name and not just Kats. "You're covering your eyes and telling me to cover up. You'd think my boyfriend," you emphasized, "of three years wouldn't be appalled at the idea of my body. "

"You've got it all wrong," he step towards you, you taking a step back.

"Do I?"

"Yes, extremely," he nodded, frustrated.

"Then explain it to me," you offered, "Jolting away from my touch and hugs all these years and now wishing me to not show my skin."

"Fuck," he rubbed his hand over his face, taking a step closer to you, "I just can't handle it. It's too much for me," he admitted.

"I'm going to need you to elaborate."

"It's overwhelming, becomes all I can think about," he took a step closer, and you let him. Arms still crossed as you looked up at him. "I want you more than anything, fuck, more than being number one."

You dropped your arms to your sides, "What?" you asked softly.

"I can't let you touch me for too long because then I just want more. Can't look too long or I'll want to see more," he spoke softly, "it's fucking annoying."

"Then why haven't we..." you left off, knowing he got the hint.

"I'm fuckin scared," he ran his hands through his hair.

"Kats, there nothing to be scared of, " you tried to comfort, "What could the symbol of strength possibly be scared of?"

"Of just that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm worried I'm going to fuckin' blow you up or something," he blurted.

You paled, expecting anything but that.

"Fuckin' see?" he sat down roughly on the air mattress, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands.

You took a seat next to him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "Why have you never told me?" you asked gently.

"Didn't want to bother you with this stupid shit," he slapped his hands down, looking over at you.

"It's not stupid," you shook your head at him.

"I should be over it at our grown ass age," he huffed, his eyes were getting bloodshot.

"How are you going to get over something you've never addressed?" you pointed out. Dragging his hands away from his eyes when he tried to rub at them. "Why do you think you'll do that?"

"I can't fucking control it, you see my quirk go off," he stared down at his hands.

"Do you know why it does?" you were trying to figure him out, for his sake and yours.

He sighed, "I get freaked out," he paused for a while, "I get nervous then I start freaking out about my quirk going off and it does."

"I don't see it happening in interviews?" you questioned, knowing he gets anxious in those.

He gave you a blank stare, "What are you? Stupid?"

"Hey!"

"I get nervous around you," he spelt out, "This shit only happens around you."

You flushed from head to toe. All you could do was stare at him dumbly. Mei was right. His quirk went off because of you. You couldn't help the light smile that crossed your face.

"The fuck you smilin' for?"

"I honestly just relived," you confessed, "I thought your quirk going off meant that you wanted me as far away as possible, since when I got too close you pushed me away."

"You'd think your quirk would help your dumbass brain but it doesn't," he looked at you in disbelief, "Why would I be with you?"

"It's also why I thought you kept bring up the physical touch thing," you shrugged, "Thought you were using it as your way out of the relationship."

"Why would of put up with your shit if I didn't want you?" he pointed out.

"Y'know, Mei brought up the same points," you laughed.

He groaned, "Mei knows?"

"Sorry," you apologized, "It was eating me up inside."

"It's fine," he brushed off, "I'm sorry too, didn't really think about what you thought was going on till recently."

"It's fine," you stifled a yawn.

"Tired?"

"Very," you admitted.

"Sleep, we have an early mornin'," he motioned to the bed. You happily moved up the bed, happy to get cozy under the covers next to him after he changed into his sleepwear. Watching the way the small light of the flashlight, used to light your way to the tent, created shadows over the span of his back. It was always a welcomed site to see. It felt even better now, knowing that he wanted you in the same way you wanted him.

"It's fuckin' cold," you mumbled, holding the blanket over your cheeks as you curled up.

Without saying a word, Katsuki pulled you into his side. He was a human furnace, so you instantly melted into his side. Flushed with the closeness. Having gone three years with no touch, to making out in a pond and cuddling in bed together in the same day.

The relief the conversation gave you was insane, you no longer felt disgusted and you no longer felt like he wanted out of the relationship.

This camping trip lifted more than a small weight off your shoulders, but all the insecurities and worries of your relationship along with it. Progress in the right direction could finally be made, rather than the stand still you've been at this entire time.

You let out a sigh of relief, curling into his side more as you let sleep cloud your brain.

-Next Part-

I did not expect this to be so damn long, fuck. I've written this in two days and it's literally the longest thing I've ever written for a chapter. I hoped you like the camping trip, it was fun to write and I hope I illustrated it well enough. Thank you <3

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

@ldk3347 @suki0 @ez4ra @mithicakurogo @aomi04 @ellielover69 @minori-taiga1 @54fangirl @zoast32 @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @snxwflwr @keiva1000 @thescarletwallflower @juicyfingers @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @venusluvslove @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sweetpandabiscuitrebel @sinyaaa @xreiiss @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @lord-goosifur @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @suki0 @yesiamrobbysimp @supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @ivuriexo

(make sure your can be tagged, your blog might be hidden)

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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

Text

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIX

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @xxloveralways14 @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03

warnings infidelity, some sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! this is easily my favorite chapter so far (for reasons that will become obvious towards the end) don’t expect another back to back update bc it’s not happening 😭 maybe thursday or friday at the earliest, i still have priorities!

June 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California

“Paige, your shot wasn’t falling tonight like we are used to seeing from you. What was different tonight for you than either nights?”

It’s this that I’m not quite yet used to. The post lost pressers. It was different in college, where the team had way more wins for every one loss, but right now we’re at .500 and each time a loss follows a win and they ask me the same variation of the same question I get irritated.

But I’m media trained, which means I just answer the question no matter how dumb I feel it is. The real answer is that I played like shit tonight, forcing shots and getting into my head. Instead, I’m forced to say:

“We’re playing a team that has the reigning defensive player of the year and was just in the finals. It was gonna be a dog fight, for us to get settled against a defense like that, and they simply out performed us.” I look down at the stat sheet in front of me, I had 5 turnovers to my 4 assists, and I fucking hate turning the ball over.

“Kayla McBride is a dog, she guarded me well tonight, forced me into some bad shots and got a few turnovers from me. But I gotta take all that and learn from it, it’s still too early in the season to stress out over things that are fixable.”

I'm the only one sitting at the podium tonight, Rickea and Dearica doing theirs together and Zia who had just gone before me. I knew what the gist of the questions would be, turnovers, defense, and the most gruesome: injuries.

“We saw you roll your ankle pretty bad tonight. Even though you finished the game, can you tell us a bit about the seriousness of it?” It’s a different reporter now, one that I recognize from our win the other night.

I shake my head. My ankle was fine up until he just mentioned it. Now, it stung bad. I had some extra tape around it, it was only sore, while I was sitting but walking and running full speed on the court made that shit hurt like no other.

“It’s not serious.” I reply honestly. “We got two days off before the next game at home so I’m not worried. I’m gonna treat it like any other tweak and just follow what the trainers got for me, and hopefully we have a better night against Minnesota on Friday.”

It seems like that is a sufficient answer for the rest of the reporters in the room when I hear that wonderful “no more questions.” I stand up gingerly from my seat. They don’t miss my slight limp, but after a few steps the pain shakes off and it just feels uncomfortable.

When I get back to the locker room it’s damn near empty except for Cameron and Rae. I give them both curt nods before heading over to my locker.

They don’t speak to me, which I’m silently grateful for because I might snap at them unintentionally. Losing is one thing, playing like dog shit is another, but my ankle really put the nail in the coffin.

I attempt to clean up my locker a bit, making life a little bit easier for the ladies who’re gonna come in and clean up when we leave. I throw my jersey and shorts in the growing pile of towels and warm ups and all other gear before reaching for my phone in the bag.

just saw the injury on tv, pray it’s not too bad ❤️‍🩹

That’s the second most recent text in my phone, from about an hour ago from Maraye. It just briefly brings a smile to my face that I can’t even fight. It’s crazy to me that even when I’m at my grumpiest she finds a way to make me forget about it all.

I scroll through the rest of my notifications before tapping on her contact. I see that she texted me multiple times tonight throughout different parts of the game.

don’t fuck up my parlay tonight. jk good luck fav! 7:09pm

OKAY BLOCKKK GET UP THEN 7:20pm

omg the cross over??? don’t do her like that p 😮‍💨 8:03pm

I laugh fights through my lips, she told me in Atlanta she would start live texting me during games, I didn’t think she was serious. Nevertheless, I find it adorable. Maraye, throughout the busyness that is her schedule, turned on my game and watched the whole thing, keeping me posted on all her thoughts throughout the night.

I’m so beyond saving.

My thumb scrolls back down to the bottom of the thread. I can’t deny the way my heartbeat quickens in my chest at the choice of heart emoji. It’s not quite a red heart, but it’s enough to let me know she cares. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here like I’m in high school again, psycho analyzing her texts and gushing over them until my face is red.

“You headin’ out?” I look up and Cam is getting ready to leave. She’s going to be fully cleared to play this week, probably not playing with us until right before All-star. I’m excited for her, and I can tell that she is too because it’s practically beaming off of her.

I nod. “Yeah, inna minute. I’ll catch you in the morning.” Cameron takes that answer and walks out alongside Rae. I grab my back shortly after them, getting up and leaving the locker room. The arena is quiet, so is the parking garage as I make my way out there. The chirp of my car alerts me to it. I drop my bag in the trunk before sitting down in my seat.

The cushion practically eats me alive, I haven’t been this physically exhausted in months.

Then I’m reminded that Maraye and I’d thread is still open on my phone. When I glance at the time I realize it’s not that late, I know that if I go home, I’ll just fall into the rabbit hole of watching film all night.

Instead I reach for the phone heavy in my sweatpants pocket. My thumbs begin typing away before sending Maraye a text back.

Nah it’s not all that bad

You busy? Or can I slide?

I make sure my phone is connected to the speakers. When He’s Not There by Kehlani plays through the car while I get settled. Following that, I place my phone on its spot on the center console. It isn’t until Maraye’s name flashes on my carplay screen that I finally pull out of the parking garage.

yes please, come see meee

—

Paige sits comfortably to my left on my couch. Her leg propped on my coffee table with a bag of ice resting on her swollen ankle.

It’s her first time at my apartment, but even then she navigates the place like she’s been here countless of times. It feels so similar to our friendship, just comfortable.

Her arm is draped over my shoulder as I nestle into her side. When she first came over, I sat on the other side of the couch, so far away from her you would think we were fighting. And then she started talking, pulling me closer with her words until I sat right next to her. My body is leaning into her warmth.

An NBA finals game plays on the TV. Knicks versus the Thunder, it’s in the last few minutes of overtime, a high intensity game that Paige swore she couldn’t miss a second of.

“He’s so fine.” I chirp jokingly, Shai Gilgeous Alexander is on the screen, about to shoot game tying free throws.

Paige pulls her arm off of me, looking down at me incredulously before reaching for my remote. She lowers the volume on the TV, reducing Mike Breen’s commentating to a whisper.

“Who, Shai?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so?” I ask, looking up at her with a grin.

“I’m like a raging homosexual, but if you like it I love it?”

I laugh at that, pushing her hair away from my view. It cascades down her shoulders in soft bright strands that tickle my face.

“You can never just laugh at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Paige says. The face she makes reacts to her own statement like it’s obvious, when we both know I could make her laugh until she cried if I wanted to. “And Shai isn’t your type.”

I move from my spot next to her, jumping up and turning my attention to her face, while hers are stuck to the game. The way she is seated briefly makes me forget my train of thought. Her legs are spread comfortably and she leans back on the couch with her arms against the back of the couch. She looks like a fuckboy, and in any other scenario I would make fun of her for it, but the TV glow shines on her face just right and her cologne in my nose nearly makes me go blind.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s my type then, Paige?”

A commercial cuts on and Paige finally draws her eyes away from the screen. “What, Julian’s lightskin ass wasn’t the giveaway?” She laughs at her own joke, it’s stupid, but I love that laugh. So uniquely her. “Or y’want me to say you like six foot blonde girls.”

I roll my eyes, and when my vision clears up again, Paige is grinning at me.

“C’mon it was funny!”

“I don’t like women, idiot.”

“You like me.”

“I do not. I don’t even know why I let you hang out around me.” My body turns and my back hits the couch with a soft thud. Just to annoy her I sit further away from her body.

“Yeah okay, ma. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Paige’s voice is low, a deep and raspy tone that I have never heard from her before. With Julian that had always been a given— he’s a man with a deep voice, that’s obvious. But when I hear it from Paige, I don’t know. It’s different.

My body just barely reacts to the pet name, but it’s there. The glob of saliva that pushes down my dry throat. And my legs just slightly press together. Paige reaches for the pocket of my striped shorts, tugging me back to my original spot in the curve of her body.

“You’ve really never done anything with a girl before?”

“Paige—”

“No, not to be annoying. I’m just wondering.” She shrugs. Her hand reaches over to flick the bag of ice off her ankle and brings her leg down to my carpet. She looks down at me slowly, a lick of her lips and scan of my face lets me know she’s listening, waiting for my response.

I return her gaze. “Yes, I’ve really never done anything with a girl before.”

“Why? We’re much better. Better than whatever Julian is doing for you, I can tell you that much.” Paige’s voice is smug, teasing almost. I don’t know if she’s trying to rile me up between my legs or in my heart so I defend Julian. Either way it’s working, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

“You seem sure about that.”

She nods. “I am. I think you forget how often you complain to me about that guy.” She says with a laugh.

The game in front of us is dying down, a three point lead for the Knicks with 40 seconds left in overtime, Oklahoma just now calling a timeout. I know she’s into the game, way more than me, but still she looks at me with an intensity that makes it feel like we’re the only two things in the world.

“Doesn’t mean a girl could do it better.”

Her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, I’m expecting them to move. To look back at my eyes or even at the TV but she doesn’t. Just me.

“Y’believe that?” Paige asks me.

“Uh huh.”

I’m going to lose. Whatever is going on with Paige and I, what has been going on for the last few weeks. The banter, the tension, the constant touching, it’s all a fight. Her and I are going back and forth like a fucking tennis match and she’s about to win. She’s about to make me lose whatever is left of my composure and grab the collar of her Hopkins High School t-shirt and kiss her until there’s no more breath in my lungs.

“Yeah? Ion know, can’t knock it till you try it.” She says, leaning into me for all of 5 milliseconds before sitting back in her seat and looking at the screen. The volume raises on my TV the cheers and commentary bouncing off the walls of my home.

Paige has left me frozen. Stuck there, in the exact position that she left me in. My eyes staring into the side of her perfect skin, burning holes there if I had the capability. I need her. My thighs are damn near glued together to keep me from dripping down my couch.

I adjust my position some, sitting uncomfortably on my heels but with the way Paige is manspreading, it gives me just enough to be an inch taller than her. She looks at me, eyes trailing from my thighs past my covered stomach and chest, suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close my tits are from falling out of my Skims top.

“There some’ you wanna tell me, angel?” She asks. I hate the way that nickname makes me feel. She’s the only one that calls me that, the only one who makes me feel so small with just a single word. “Or you jus’ gonna keep lookin’ at me?”

The words just barely die in the air before I’m leaning into her, pressing my lips to hers.

It starts off soft, so soft. Her body hesitates, like she knows better than to kiss me back but she does so anyway, tilting her head further and deepening the kiss. Paige hums against me, her arms still pressed against the back of the couch as if she has to avoid touching me. As if the second her hands touch my body then it’s game over.

She bites my bottom lip, making me moan against her. I further into the kiss, cupping her cheek and then it really is game over. Paige reaches for my hips, lifting my body onto her lap and settling my thighs on the outside of hers.

Her tongue is entering my mouth, warm and tasting like candy. They’re clashing, messy and sticky and so damn hot. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her I’m not sure I want to give it up.

Paige roams my body with fervor. Trailing just a bit further to grab at my ass, kneading it in her large and veiny hands. I pull back from her breathlessly. Her hair is messy, lips so swollen and pink. It leaves me soaked as a response.

“This is doin’ so much damage. Y’know that?” She asks. Her hand travel back up my body to the back of my neck. I know it’s wrong, but still I let her pull me back into her.

“Mmm, Ion wanna— stop.” I speak against her lips, letting her kiss me as she pleases. Grope me as she pleases. Talk to me as nasty as she wants to. I miss it, the feeling of being so vulgar with another person. Paige is on a different level and I want so much more. More of her, more than anyone has ever given me but for whatever reason I know that she can.

My phone starts ringing. I try to pull back to answer it but she pulls me right back, navigating my mouth with her tongue.

“Don’t.” She mumbles.

“I gotta.” I tell her pulling back with such force that I’m almost falling off the couch. I need to. Because if I don’t stop, I’m gonna let her see me in my most vulnerable state and even I know how wrong that would be.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, swiping to answer the call before I can even see who it is.

“Hello?” My voice is wheezy, and I’m huffing and puffing into the speaker.

“Hey, baby. You home?”

It’s Julian. Of course it is. Of course God would let this man call me in the middle of making out with Paige just to make me feel guilty. Like the asshole I so obviously am right now.

“N— yeah. Yeah, but I’m busy. Sorry.” I stutter. “Paige is over right now.” I tell him honestly. But still, my breath hitches at my mention of her name. She rubs my thighs while I speak, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.

Her hand travels to her mouth, holding up one finger to her lips with a snide glare. I reach to slap her hand away, barely listening to what Julian says to me on the other line.

Blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah needa start hanging out with me blah blah less Paige. It’s gibberish. And I don't care.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Ju.” I tell him, bothered by his continued talking and wanting to occupy myself with something else. Namely, the pink lips in front of me that look so fucking pretty and the gorgeous face just inches away from mine.

I toss my phone on the couch after Julian responds and hangs up.

“You fuckin’ like me.”

“And don’t.” Just when I’m about to hop off of her lap, the TV blares loudly.

“Bang! Bang! Shai Gilgeous-Alexander takes us into double overtime!” Mike Breen’s cheers echo into my ears. Paige looks past me, obviously upset that she missed the shot.

“Damn. He’s good and fine?”

“Dont get fucked up, Raye.”

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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brenwritesss · 5 months ago

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Tru Fru part 4

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Paige takes you on a date to make up for an interrupted interaction, causing you two to fall even deeper.

a/n: the Paige pics above is the outfit I pictured her in during this chapter.

You were stressing. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. First, you had submitted an assignment last night two minutes after the cutoff, guaranteeing you a zero percent. Next, you woke up and made a bowl of cereal for breakfast only to realize that the milk had gone bad. You had found out the hard way. And now here you were, getting ready for a date Paige had planned a few days ago, only you couldn’t find your shoes anywhere and Paige was going to show up to your place any minute.

After that day that you and Paige almost fucked, she didn’t fall back on her promise of making it up to you. She had asked you out on a date which meant that this was your first date ever with Paige. And to say you were nervous was an understatement. When she texted you this morning, she had said to dress “not casual” to which you assumed meant more formal than you’d usually dress and as a girl who was a biology major who never really went out, your choices on dressing fancy were limited. Luckily, your roommate was a bit of a party girl, resulting in a closet with almost an endless amount of dresses. So you settled on a short black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, and a black jean jacket. You didn’t own any fancy shoes and unfortunately your roommate didn’t share a shoe size with you so your everyday sneakers just had to do.

Finally, you had found your shoes under your couch, wondering just how exactly they had ended up there. As you put on your shoes, there was a knock on your door which meant Paige was here. You took a deep breath and made your way to the door and opened it. You were met with Paige looking up from the ground, meeting your eyes with her cool blue ones. She broke into a faint smile as she had her hands behind her back and her hair was down and curly with two pieces pulled back. She was wearing a colorful cardigan with cream colored pants. She was the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

She looks you up and down with that same smile. “Hi,” she said back to you. “You look really pretty.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling. Her own smile grew wider as you responded. “Not so bad yourself.”

She lightly scoffed, “I took so long to look good for you and ‘not so bad yourself’ is all I get?”

“Good for me?”

“Always.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment just taking each other in before Paige spoke, “I have something for you.”

“You do?” You didn’t expect Paige to bring you something as she had already planned the entire date.

Paige shrugged. “Think of it as another apology for the livestream and as a way for making it up to you for being disrupted the other day.”

Your cheeks flushed as you remember the events and almost-sex the two of you had in your bedroom. And Paige noticed the color in your cheeks deepen as she brought it up, making her chuckle just a bit. She brought her hands out from behind her back and revealed a bag of Tru Fru. The banana ones.

You laughed as you took the bag from her. “Paige, that's the sweetest gift I’ve ever received,” you said sarcastically.

Paige’s smile widened even more. “I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do,” you say as you set the bag on your counter and walk back to her. “Thank you.”

“Ready to go?” she asked you.

You nod and without hesitation, she takes hold of your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours. Your blush deepens even more and your heart starts to race. Even though you’ve already made out with this girl, every time she touched you it only made you want more. It made you want to be held by her. As if she was the only girl in the world who was allowed to touch you.

She opens the passenger door to her car to let you get in. As you sit in her car, you are taken back by how decorated it was. All over the front of the glove box were pictures of her and her basketball team. As she got in, she noticed you admiring all the photos. “They’re my favorite people.”

“I can tell,” you responded in awe of the photos. The Paige in the photos showed the same smile that she gave you at your door and your heart melted at the sight. She looks so happy.

She lifts down her sun visor above her head to show another couple photos stuck to it. “So I keep my teammates on my glove box and I keep my siblings up here along with my parents.”

You leaned over towards her to see the photos. You smiled at the sight of her arms wrapped around her brothers and sister. “That’s really cute, Paige.”

She gives you a soft smile, closing her visor and pointing to the visor above your head. “That one doesn’t have any photos yet but that may change soon.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. “Soon?”

She chuckles, “yeah, soon. Maybe.”

She starts her car and begins to drive, her right hand finding its way to your thigh. You put your hand on top of hers and intertwine your fingers together. You’ve never been this affectionate during a first date so this was new to you. But you would be lying if you told yourself you didn’t like it. “So where are we going?” you ask her.

You turned your head towards her and admired her beautiful side profile. You had never seen something so perfect. She glances at you and then back to the road before her. “Do you really want me to tell you or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Tell me,” you say softly. Her grip on your fingers and thigh tighten just slightly while simultaneously gripping the wheel with her other hand more tight. You did happen to enjoy the way her hand flexed when she gripped the steering wheel.

“There’s this restaurant that’s really good downtown so I thought I’d take you there.” You could hear the hint of nervousness in her voice which caused you to squeeze her hand in comfort.

“That’s really nice, Paige.”

The two of you spent the remainder of the drive in silence, stealing awkward yet comforting glances at one another. Paige’s hand never left yours as she drove you to the restaurant. The feeling of having this type of contact with her sent waves of pleasure through you and you liked every second of it. You wanted to know everything about her. Every story, every fear, every flaw, every wish, every dream. What you didn’t know was that she wanted to know everything about you too. What you also didn’t know was that prior to picking you up, a few of her teammates had to give her a pep talk in taking you out. She had been so nervous since this was the first real and serious date she’s had in a while and she was afraid of messing it up.

Paige pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and as you looked out your window, you were met with romantically lit lighting, car lights speeding up and down the street, and the sight of a numerous amount of couples walking along the sidewalk.

Paige held your hand as you walked into the restaurant, being greeted by the host and taken to be seated at a table. Your table was illuminated by a candle and flowers in the center of the table which made Paige’s face glow perfectly across from you. “I’ve never been here before,” you said, breaking the silence between you two for the first time since the car.

“Yeah, it’s a really nice place,” she paused, “I think you’ll like it.”

“So how was that practice the other day?” you ask her.

Paige furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what you were talking about until it clicked that you were talking about when she had to leave your dorm the other day. “Oh it was nothing new. Coach was getting on our asses so it was just a ton of drills.”

Your waiter cuts the conversation between you as he comes to greet you and take your drink orders. After he leaves, you continue, “That makes me glad I’m not an athlete.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, well in that moment I wish I wasn’t. I was sore after we finished.”

“I think I’ll take homework over being sore any day.”

“Yeah?” Paige jokingly questioned you. “I’m assuming biology isn’t the greatest thing in the world either.”

“Oh it’s not,” you respond. “It’s a lot of science and math, unfortunately.”

“Yeah no I’ll stick to being an athlete.”

You laughed at her response as your drinks arrived at the table. You spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what you wanted to eat. There was a lot on the menu and you being indecisive was no help whatsoever. As you sat there, completely focused on the menu, you failed to notice that Paige had been admiring you the entire time with a soft smile on her face. “What are you thinking of getting?”

Her words snap you out of focus, finally looking up at her. “Oh, um deciding between pasta or something else but I’m not the most gracious pasta eater.”

That earns another laugh from her. “I find that hard to believe.”

You tilt your head to the side. “What are you implying?”

“That you’ll look good doing anything, including eating pasta.” She smirks at you, making you almost melt under her gaze.

“I’m not looking to make a fool out of myself so that is not happening tonight. That’s more of a third date thing.”

“So there’s going to be a third?” She raises her eyebrow playfully at you that makes you hide your face behind the menu.

“Are you two ready to order or still need a few minutes?” Your server walks to the table, a notepad in hand as he looks at the two of you.

Paige shakes her head. “No, we are ready.” She looks at you before looking back at the server. “I’ll have the filet mignon and she will have the fettuccine alfredo.”

You widen your eyes at her as your server took your orders and left. You shake your head. “There’s no way you just did that.”

A sly smile appears on her face. “I’m too impatient to wait for the third date.”

“To see me eat pasta like a monster?” you question her, taking a sip of your drink.

She gives you a look that says ‘what the fuck, no’ and says, “no, to prove to you that you look good doing anything.”

You two make eye contact again and this time it’s different. As if there was nobody else in this restaurant. And she can feel that too because she speaks again, “and I do mean that.”

“Thank you.” You smile at her and she returns it.

You spend the next hour eating and talking to Paige and you couldn’t be happier. Somehow, you had managed to not make a complete fool of yourself eating pasta in front of her. The two of you talked about almost everything: school, family, friends, the future, the past. And even though you already had started gaining feelings for Paige, the things she told you made you see her in more of a different light. That she wasn’t just the playful, sarcastic basketball player that you fought over a bag of Tru Fru with one night. But that she was family-oriented, driven, strong, and didn’t have a problem with showing vulnerability towards you.

Once you and Paige finished dinner, you both fought over who would pay to which she had ultimately won that fight. She took you back to her car and began the journey back to your dorm room. Her hand once again found its way to your thigh and you looked her way. “Thank you for tonight.”

Paige smiled. “Of course, I just hoped you liked it.”

“I did,” you paused. “I like spending time with you and getting to know you.”

“Yeah?” she asked with that smugness that was always underlying every word she said.

“Yeah.”

On the way back to your dorm, the two of you just talked more. However, it was harder to hear her with the noise of your own heart beating in your chest echoing in your ears. When she pulled into the parking lot of your dorm, she put the car in park and turned her whole body towards you. “I hope I made it up to you.”

You nod. “You did.”

“Good,” she spoke quietly, looking intently into your eyes. “Listen, I had a great time with you tonight. Well, I always do.”

“I had a great time too.”

“Oh, I have something else for you.” She reached into the back seat of her car and pulled out a target bag full of stuff. She hands you the bag and you look through it. It had to have been more than ten bags of different Tru Fru snacks.

“Oh my god, Paige,” you said, shocked as you looked through the bag. “This has to be over fifty dollars worth of Tru Fru.”

Paige just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. It was worth it.”

You sat in silence for a few seconds, contemplating if the next move was the right one or not. But judging the situation as Paige staring at you and you staring back, there was no denying the obvious tension that could almost fog up the windows of her car.

“I have something for you too,” you respond.

“Oh yeah?” Paige leaned forward just a bit. “I thought I was the one who was giving the gifts tonight.”

Your eyes flickered between her eyes and soft lips. “Change of plans.”

Before you can think twice, you crash your lips onto hers, earning a small groan from her in response. She instantly deepened the kiss and caressed your cheek with her hand as your hands flew to her neck. Your lips moved together with hers in the most perfect way possible, igniting that same fire you felt when you kissed her for the first time back at your dorm.

Moments later you see a flash beside you as you kiss her. She keeps your bottom lip between her teeth as she pulls away slowly. She has her phone out in her left hand and you nudge towards it. “Did you just take a picture of us?”

She laughs. “Yeah,” she says as she pulls down the visor above you that had no photos. “Gonna have to start filling up this space with some new pictures and I think pictures of me and my girlfriend would be perfect.” She flashed her signature smirk as you froze.

“Girlfriend?” you ask quietly.

“If you want that, yes I want to make you my girlfriend. Things are still new but I just want you to know that I do plan on making you mine.”

Everything inside you wanted to scream out of pure happiness but you kept it together. Even though you and Paige hadn’t been talking for long, the two of you couldn’t mistake the undeniable chemistry the two of you shared. “Yes, I want that.”

“Good,” Paige said before she kissed you again. “I’m glad I fought with you over that bag of Tru Fru.”

“Me too.”

#paige bueckers #uconn #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #uconn huskies #wcbb #wlw

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nemesis-writer · 29 days ago

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[Unwanted Ransom(Chapter 4)]

Glided Lily Masterlist TW- mentions of the movie Jersey Girl

9 years ago...

I was going to a pool party for my friend's birthday, but little did I know there was someone else that was gonna be there. I bought him some new sneakers he wanted because he never shut up about them. And since, I had hand me downs, I sold them to earn enough money for the sneakers.

By the time I reached the party Daniel, the friend, approached me saying, "Hey, Xerxes thanks for coming, I thought that you were a bit too busy for this."

"Fuck nah men, I wouldn't miss this for the world." I admitted.

Everything was going smoothly until I saw a person, I thought I would never see again...

Damian.

"What the hell are you doing here, freak?" He shouted at me.

"He is my friend what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You have no friends, dipshit."

"You have no mom dumbass."

Before I had time to know what I said, a fist came toward my face. Luckily I missed it, and responded with an uppercut to his cheek. Finally a taste of his own medicine, too say I was proud of me was an understatement. Until I heard,

"Ms. WAYNE".

Fucking cocksucker had to ruin this day. I felt Mr Wayne grab me by the collar and escorted me out of the party. Dennis muttered a 'sorry', but no one was allowed to do anything, so I couldn't ask for help.

At home...

"Ms Wayne what were you thinking!?"

"Before you continue, it's Ms Amala."

"Don't you give me that tone."

"You don't even know my name, you just call me be your last name just with a Ms."

"You attacked your brother"

"My 'brother' slashed me in my fucking arm and you didn't do shit."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch to him he wouldn't have."

"I HATE YOU I WISH MOM NEVER MET YOU!!! "

"SO DO I YOU LITTLE SHIT, YOU AND YOUR MOM RUINED MY LIFE."

"Go fuck yourself."

With that I ran to my 'bedroom', and no words were ever exchanged between me and both Bruce and Damian. I never gave them the satisfaction of looking at them, or even apologising.

Damian oddly, left me alone, well it sends a message to any bitch in school. I didn't care for their approval, I stopped when I was 7, feeling like it was pointless to care about them.

It never though, stopped me from joining competitions. I won multiple gold trophies, certificates, medals, even participation awards. I have 3 binders full of my achievements, containing pictures with the president of music, and the presidents of the sports I had joined.

But I kept a scrap-book of all my birthdays celebrated either by Alfred, or my friends. I was grateful, but it always felt like a pity-party, I always was the Wayne outcast but the more I say that, people would think I care.

Present Time.

"Xerxes?"

"Nope, nuh uh, wrong person." I reached for Morgan only for my arm to be grabbed by Jason again.

"What the fuck happened to you! I thought you were dead."

"Xerxes Wayne is dead, you can either address me as Jinx, Jennifer, or Ms Stark."

"Xerxes-"

I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat at the rage of hearing a name, that was made to be neglected.

"Jennifer, we have been looking for you."

"Oh please"

"Bruce and Damian found your old trophies."

"I thought I told Alfred too clean up."

"The point is we miss you."

"You left me to rot with those people, the point is, now I have a life. You guys never cared about me, I was almost sent to military school for defending some autistic kid."

"Princess, I-"

"No, that ship sailed a long time ago" I ran to Morgan and carried her to our limousine, I never looked at Jason because even though he was the one that actually brought a bit of life to that place, he left us alone.

For now...

At the Wayne Manor...

Jason's POV

"Father we've got to bring her back, she is with the enemy."

"Damian, let's calm ourselves-"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM!!!"

"We are gonna bring her back soon Damian."

"She's not gonna come back", was all I could let out. I could feel the pointed glares of everyone, even demon spawn's stare pierced.

"What do you mean? She's our family, look at us who wouldn't want this?" Dick asked me, holding his veneer pride, but truly masking guilt and confusion.

"We weren't there for her, she left us when she had a chance." I was irritated to admit it, but it was true, our little bird flew the nest and we were to negligent to realise it.

"We have to bring her back, right?" Tim, was obviously the most idiotic out of all of us, because he decides to think we are picture perfect.

"We can't live on false hope Tim." I screamed with all emotions just completely bursting forth.

"WE WILL BRING OUR SISTER BACK!!!" and with hearing that, I immediately punched Damian, to be honest, a bit too hard for my liking. The demon did deserve it, depending on how you ask.

"Jason, calm down, she'll come to her senses and come back." hearing Bruce say that, before I react I felt something sharp pierce my neck, and slowly I lost consciousness, when I turned around I saw Cassandra murmur, 'sorry'.

Then everything became black

Taglist....

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #dad tony stark #tony stark x daughter! reader #assassin reader #yandere avengers #neglected reader

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tokkiwrites · 2 months ago

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𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (4)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader • series masterlist

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

Tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal, talk about divorce, talk about not wanting a child, ANGSTTTT, (marjorie being a mean bitch but also a great plot device!), trauma!!! reader has daddy issues, but dont quote me on that.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! the second to last part is here!! how do we feel so far? IT'S GOING DOWN!! one more chapter, and we will find out if anyone will get a happy ending. who knows.. maybe we'll make a spinoff of this? anyway, this is 3.37k words, so the shortest of the bunch butbi didn't want to add unnecessary smut :') HOPE YOU LOVE IT! not proofread soo if you anything spelled wrong umm close your eyes.

“Glad you could make it,” Marjorie said, closing the door behind you. “I thought we could have a little chat.”

“What do you want? was it really necessary for us to come here?” Joel asked, his tone edged with irritation. "Wouldn't want more people to see us now, right?" She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I think you both know exactly what I want." You exchanged a worried glance with Joel, trying to gauge how serious she was. “What are youㅡ?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. Marjorie pushed off the counter and walked towards you, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “I want you to share him for a bit." she said bluntly, a cruel smile twisting her lips. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to let the grown-ups play too. Besides, it’s only fair, isn’t it? After all, we can't let your mom find out about you two..." Your heart sank. “You can’t be serious,” you said, laughing as disbelief washed over you. “Oh, I’m very serious. If you want to keep this little affair of yours a secret, you’ll have to comply with my terms. I’ll tell your mother everything if you don’t.”

“Why would you do this?” Joel’s voice was low, but you could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Because it’s fun, Joel. Because I can. And because your little fling is just that—a fling. I want you back, and I’m not above playing dirty to get what I want.” You felt sick, caught in the middle of a game you never wanted to play. “This isn’t fair,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Life’s not fair, sweetie,” Marjorie shot back. “You should know that by now.”

Joel stepped in front of you, a protective stance that made your heart swell and ache at the same time. “You don’t have to do this. You could just walk away, Marjorie. You’re better than this.” She laughed, a sound that was anything but lighthearted. “Better? Oh, darling, I’m far from better. I’m just getting started. So, that's the deal. You decide now.”

You felt the world around you spin as Marjorie’s words sunk into you like a bullet. “You’re a terrible friend,” you spat, rage and hurt flooding through you. “Your mother is the one who’s a bad friend,” Marjorie retorted, her eyes narrowing. “She knew how I felt about Joel. She knew we were together all those years ago. And yet, she had the audacity to marry him anyway.” Tears burned at your eyes as her words cut deep. “You’re just bitter because he moved on,” you accused.

“Bitter? Maybe. But I’m also vindictive. You’re standing in my way, and I don’t like it.” Joel’s hand squeezed yours tightly, and you could feel the tension. "Oh, so that's the only thing keeping you away? the fact that I am with him and not that he's your best friend's husband?"

"Didn't stop you, honey. And she's your mom." As Marjorie’s laughter echoed around the room, a twisted sense of triumph in her eyes, you felt the walls closing in on you. She was ready to play this game to the bitter end, and the stakes were too high. “Fine,” you said suddenly, surprising both Joel and yourself. “I’ll think about it.”

Marjorie’s expression turned sly. “Good. You have until tomorrow. Make your decision, and let me know. I’ll be waiting.”

On your way back home, the car ride was silent. You turned to Joel, his face a mask of frustration. "What now?" You finally speak up. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, but the doubt lingered in his eyes. The gravity of the situation bore down more intensely than ever before.

When you got home, the air felt suffocating and so cold at the same time. Your mother had gone to bed early, and joel decided to spend the night at his apartment, closer to where he worksㅡ again. the stillness of the house was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within you. You wanted to scream, cry, and run away from everything that was happening. But instead, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as the reality of your situation washed over you.

The next morning brought with it a sense of impending doom. You felt like you were walking on a tightrope, and the slightest misstep could send you tumbling into chaos. Your mother chatted about her plans for the day, seemingly oblivious to it allㅡ her daughter was fucking her husband. But you couldn’t focus on her words; all you could think about was Marjorie and the ultimatum she had laid before you.

As the day wore on, the burden of your decision weighed heavily on your chest. You knew you couldn’t keep Joel, your mom and Marjorie happy without sacrificing something monumental. The thought of losing Joel made your heart ache, but so did the thought of being betrayed by your own mother. Hours passed, and by the time your mother left for a gathering with her friends from work, you felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap. “I’ll be back late, sweetheart,” she called over her shoulder, and for a moment, you felt that flicker of guilt in your very sould again.

With the house empty, you sank into the couch, pulling out your phone and staring at it, waiting for Joel to text. The minutes turned into hours, and just as doubt began to creep in, your phone buzzed, a message from him lighting up the screen.

• Meet me at our spot?

Your heart raced, and you felt a surge of trepidation.

• I’ll be there.

You arrived at the secluded spot by the river, where the world felt far away. Joel was already waiting, leaning against his truck, the setting sun casting a warm glow on his rugged features. When he saw you, a relieved smile broke across his face. “Hey, you,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted against him instantly, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Marjorie is insane...”

but maybe so were you.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said, voice steady. “I won’t let her hurt you. We’ll figure this out together.” But even as he spoke, you could see the doubt flickering in his eyes. “She wants me to share you with her, Joel, what the actual fuck?" you whispered, the words feeling heavy and bitter on your tongue. “She can’t have you. You’re mine.” But then reality crashed in, and you felt the tears prick at your eyes. “What if she really tells mom?” you asked, desperation threading through your voice.

“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” his hands were cupping your face, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “I love you. You know that, right? No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere, baby." but the words felt hollow. “What if this is all my fault?”

“It’s not,” he insisted, his grip firm, eyes fierce. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We love each other. That’s what matters. ain't nothin' wrong with lonving somebody."

yeah, your mom's husband.

You wanted to believe him, to let those words wash away the doubts, but all was a threat and it loomed large, an insidious whisper in the back of your mind, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to shield you from the consequences of your actions. "Mom wouldn’tㅡ she will not understand, Joel. She’ll be devastated.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said again, his voice firm, but you could sense the uncertainty lingering beneath the surface. “We can go to her together and explain it all. You’re everything to me, baby, you know that. this is just a lessonㅡ people will always try and come between us.” Just like you came between him and your mom.

You wanted to believe him, but fear clutched at your heart like a vice. “What if she gets angry and takes it out on you?” Even now, he was all you cared about. The thought was unbearable. “I can handle it,” he said, determination lighting his gaze. “No one is going to make me not love you, babygirl.”

Finally, you took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I have to go home.” His expression shifted, disappointment mingling with concern. “Are you sure? We can stay a little longer—”

“I have to think. About everything.”

maybe love won't save it all.

The walk home felt like a thousand miles, each step heavy with dread. You replayed everything in your mind. was it really worth it? Was Joel worth it? Was your mom worth it?

the house was quiet, the only sound being the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You slipped inside, the darkness wrapping around you like a shroud, and paused for a moment to collect your thoughts. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening. You froze, your heart racing as you turned to see your mother step inside, her face illuminated by the hallway light. She looked tired but happy, her laughter still lingering in the air as she made her way toward you.

“Oh, sweetheart! You’re back!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm embrace. You inhaled her familiar scent, a mixture of lavender and home, and felt a surge of guilt wash over you. “Hi, mom,” you said, your voice betraying the turmoil inside you. She smiled, but it faltered as she took a closer look at your expression. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I... it’s nothing,” you replied too quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your mother’s brow furrowed in concern. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right, ladybug?” A lump formed in your throat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Yeah, I know.”

This was it.

The moment where everything hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of no return. You knew what you had done was wrong—there was no denying it. No sugarcoating, no excuses. But as awful as your betrayal was, letting her find out from someone else, someone who wanted to hurt her for sport would be even worse. It would be cruel, cowardly, and the final twist of the knife. The only thing you could do now, the only thing that held even a shred of dignity or decency, was to take control of the narrative. To tell her the truth yourself. Not because it would fix anything—nothing could. but because it was the last way to show her respect. The last chance to do something for her that wasn’t tainted with deceit or manipulation.

You owed her that much. Even if she hated you forever, even if she never looked at you the same way again, it would come from you— not from Marjorie or anyone else who wanted to see her destroyed. You had already broken her heart, but you couldn’t let them shatter her spirit. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. It felt impossible, like standing in front of a firing squad, but you had to do it. The power had to be yours. This was the only way to make sure she knew the truth wasn’t a weapon someone else could wield against her.

You looked at her. If you’re going to lose everything, at least lose it by owning what you did. Not by running away.

“Mom, can we talk?” The words rushed out before you could second-guess yourself. She turned, her expression now serious. “Of course, honey. What’s on your mind?” You hesitated. You wanted to tell her everything—about Joel, about Marjorie, about the love that was blossoming in the shadows. You had to. “Just... something.” You started biting your lip.

"Something?" she pressed, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of concern. She stepped closer, her eyes searching your face as if trying to read your thoughts. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” Your chest tightened, the truth pressing down on you like a boulder. “It’s about Joel,” you blurted out, unable to stop the words from spilling over. Her face stiffened at his name, her posture straightening. “What about Joel?” she asked, her tone sharper now. The air grew heavier with each passing second, the silence between you stretching like a chasm. "Did he do anything to you?" her worry was obvious.

"N-no..." You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “We’ve... been seeing each other.” The words were heavy and raw. Her face shifted, confusion and disbelief warring for dominance. “What do you mean ‘seeing each other’?” she asked with a laugh, though you knew she understood exactly what you meant. “I mean we’ve been... together,” you admitted. Her face twisted. “Together?” she repeated, the word snapping like a whip. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Mom, I love him.” Her laughter was harsh, bitter. “You love him? Joel? My husband? Your stepdad?” Her voice cracked with fury and pain.

You hated to hear that. You hadn’t realized quite yet who he was to you. "He's not my dad, momㅡ"

“How long has this been going on?” she interjects. “Since... before the wedding,” you confessed, and the words hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back, her hand flying to her chest. “Before the wedding?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “So you’ve been lying to me this entire time? Both of you?" Tears streaked her face, but they did nothing to soften the anger in her eyes. “How could you? How could heㅡ ?!” Her voice rose. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?" her voice cracking. "It's not a joke, Mom," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want this to happen, but it did. I—"

"Didn't want this to happen?" she cut you off, her eyes blazing. "You expect me to believe that? That it just... happened? His dick just fell into you, right? You betrayed me! My own daughter, with my fucking husband!" She threw her hands up, pacing the room like a caged animal, her anguish filling every corner. “You’ve destroyed everything—everything! How long have I been the fool, sitting at home, playing happy family while you... while you—”

“Stop it!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?!” she snapped, whirling to face you. “You don’t think I understand betrayal? You don’t think I know what it feels like to be stabbed in the back by the two people who should love me the most?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said desperately, tears spilling freely now. “But I love him, Mom. I love him.”

“You love him?” she echoed mockingly. “You love my husband? Do you even hear yourself? What kind of daughter—what kind of person does this?” The venom in her voice stung, but you couldn’t back down now. “I’m not proud of this,” you said, your voice quiet and steady. “But it’s the truth. I love him, and he loves me.” Your voice rises again. She stared at you in disbelief, her jaw tightening. “Loves you?” she spat, her tone dripping with scorn. “Is that what he told you? That he loves you? That this is some grand romance and not just another one of his selfish, disgusting whims?”

“Stop it,” you said quietly, but she pressed on, her anger building like a storm. “Do you even know him?” she hissed. “The real him? Or are you just blinded by whatever lies he’s been feeding you? He’s a liar, a manipulator, and now he’s turned my own goddamn daughter against me.”

“You don’t know anything about us!” you shot back, your voice rising to match hers. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been hurt? The only one who’s ever felt unloved? You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” she interrupted, her voice rising to a shout. “What don’t I understand? That you’re selfish? That you’re reckless? That you’ve thrown away everything we had for... for him?” The words hit you like a slap, but they also ignited something inside you. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend you’re some kind of victim!” you yelled. “You’re not perfect, Mom! You’re not blameless!” Her face twisted in rage and pain. “So now this is my fault?” she demanded. “You’re blaming me for your choices? For his choices? You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m not blaming you,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion, as you were sobbing. “But you don’t get to act like you’re innocent either. You’ve pushed people away your whole life, and now you’re acting surprised that someone finally—"

“Stop,” she said coldly, her voice low but dangerous. “Don’t you dare try to twist this around. Don’t you dare try to justify what you’ve done.” The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter but no less filled with anger. “I gave you everything,” she said, her voice shaky. “I sacrificed everything for you. And this is how you repay me?”

“I know you didn’t want me,” you suddenly snapped, the years of buried hurt rising to the surface. “I always heard you fighting with Dad, saying I was your biggest mistake! Isn't that why dad left?" Her eyes widened, stunned by the shift in the conversation. “What?” she said, her voice barely audible. “I know,” you repeated, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I heard it all. I wasn’t deaf, Mom. I was a kid but i wasn't fucking stupid! I knew you never wanted me.”

Her face hardened, a mixture of guilt and defiance flashing across her features. “Of course, I didn’t fucking want you!” she shouted, the admission slicing through the air. “I was twenty years old! I didn’t want a kid, and guess what? I can’t change that! I can’t just grab you and shove you back into my fucking uterus, can I? But i didn't abandon you, Iㅡ"

“I already knew that,” you whispered, your voice hollow. “You didn’t know,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You didn't know shit! You’re just trying to make me the bad guy so you can feel better about the awful, disgusting thing that you did.” The room seemed to pulse. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But it did, and I can’t change it.” She shook her head, her hands trembling. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve destroyed everything. Our family. My marriage. Everything.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words feeling inadequate even as they left your lips. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“You’re just like him,” she spat. “Selfish. Just like your fucking dad."

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81 @dollyxzy @mybvalentine @am-3-thyst @klajmekk @cuteanimalmama @corinnedollete @vickie5446 @gabymalikk

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal angst

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charlotteking23 · 3 months ago

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The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 3 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8

Max was a beautiful man. He was even more beautiful when he smiled.

His smile wasn't full-on but slight, with his lips turning upwards in the corner only. But to you, making the man in front of you smile was your goal.

"Tell me about yourself," he said gently.

"About me?" You needed clarification. Normally, when you talk to men, especially the ones that live in Monaco permanently, they don't care to know about you.

"You are (name), aren't you?" His thick eyebrows arched questionably.

Blushing, you lowered your head, looking at your cup in between your hands. You see a hand reach across the table and land on your chin, slowly lifting it so your eyes meet blue, "No. I don't like you looking away. I want to see your eyes on me."

You blushed again at the man's words, biting your lip anxiously. His eyes immediately get drawn to your pink lip between your teeth.

Noticing his shift of attention to her lip, she decides to speak, "My (name) (last name) and I'm 23."

Max was surprised that was all you said. Most women he met would never give him a chance to speak, continuously talking about their lives to try to impress him.

"Are you from Monaco?" He asks, trying to get you to continue

"No," You shake your head lightly "I'm originally from the U.S. and came here about a year and a half ago."

"What brought you here?"

"The people," you shrug, "not to be weird about it but everyone here is wealthy. My clientele is mainly wealthier people."

"What do you do for a living then?"

"I'm an artist. Specifically a painter," You visibly become happy when talking about your job. It was obvious to see you love what you do.

You start to ramble on about your job until you realize what you were doing and start to blush, "Sorry. I ramble a lot."

Max chuckles, sending shivers down your spine "I don't mind. I love hearing the sound of your voice."

Blushing even deeper and smiling, you change the topic to save yourself from any more embarrassment, "what about you? Where are you from?"

"I'm originally from Belgium but grew up in the Netherlands most of my life."

"And for work?"

"I work with cars," he vaguely answers. You raised your eyebrow knowing there's more to the answer but decided not to push.

"And that brought you to Monaco?"

"For a time," he shrugs. "I travel a lot for work and only really have about a total of 4 months here in Monaco."

"Where do you travel for work?" Your eyes light up again at the thought of traveling.

You always wanted to travel but haven't been able to do it financially nor do you have any idea where you'd want to go.

Max smiles at you and goes into depth about some of his favorite places to go. He realizes his job is amazing but can't help but wish he had more time to spend with his family.

Though, his lifestyle hasn't affected him much because he's a loner. But sitting there with you, he can't help but hope to come home more often to see the beautiful woman more often.

The pair continued to talk for about another hour or so before they were interrupted by your phone ringing.

You give the blue-eyed man an apologetic smile before answering the phone, "hello?"

"Where the hell are you?" You hear your roommate yell at you through the phone. Your roommate wasn't someone you would willingly have in your life. If you could you'd live by yourself.

"I'm getting coffee," Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I need you home because I have people coming over and the house is a mess! You have to come home now and clean it all up!"

Max didn't know who was on the other end of the phone but just by her tone, he didn't like her. No one should yell at you like that.

"What do you mean? When I left, the house was perfectly clean."

"Well, it was until I spilled soda everywhere so I need you to help clean up!"

Deciding not to fight with your roommate, you just sighed, and told the girl you would come home now and hung up the phone.

"Everything alright?" Max asked.

"Yeah just got to help my roommate clean up the mess she made because she wants to have people over," You sighed again.

"You shouldn't have to clean up her messes."

"I know but it's easier not to argue with her," you started to gather your things and stood up.

You reached into your purse, pulled out a pen wrote something on the napkin, and handed it to the man. "Here. It's my number. Text me and we'll do this again"

You smile softly at the man before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek before turning away and leaving. You hadn't registered what you had done until you were almost home.

You stopped mid-walk, a smile plastering your face. You didn't mean to do that, but you were happy you did. You smiled the entire way back to your apartment.

Max was stunned by your boldness. You were so innocent and naive yet here you were giving your phone number to him and kissing his cheek.

Something about you made you stand out from everyone else. He didn't know what it was yet but he couldn't wait to see you again.

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector

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falling-endlessly · 11 months ago

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Boomerang (part 3)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: Your infuriating ex is planning something, and it's putting everyone on edge. But if he wants at the hotel, he'll have to go through you (and Alastor) first.

<— Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

—6 HOURS AGO—

"What," Valentino growled, claws creating cracks in the table from how hard he was gripping it. "The fuck did you just say?"

Velvette was no better. Her lip was pulled into a furious snarl, and for once her phone was nowhere to be seen. "Vox, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Relax," Vox reclined in his chair, raising a brow at his murderous business partners. Velvette's eye twitched and the table creaked in protest under Valentino's fury. "I'm not actually going for redemption, damn, calm your tits people."

"What happened to keeping up an image for the brand?" Velvette banged a fist against her armrest, gritting her teeth. "The Morningstar bitch was literally humiliated on live television, and now you're going to personally advertise for her?!"

"The next extermination is coming sooner than ever, and people are getting desperate. This little publicity stunt can work in our favor," Vox crossed his claws under his chin, megawatt smile growing. "What's a little pity pitch going to hurt? Think about it, I can gather intel, fuck up Alastor's little project, and show Y/n where her allegiances should lie. Win-win-win," he chuckled ominously.

"Cut the shit, Vox," Valentino scoffed, leaning forward to sneer in his face. "It's obvious you're only going this far for that bitch. Can't keep a leash on your toys, hm?"

Vox grit his teeth, digging his claws into his thighs under the table. He knew this wasn't going to go over well, but to be talked down to by someone who was benefiting from him? "So what if I am?" He hid his rage with a large, mocking grin. "And by the way, where's Angel Dust? Haven't seen him around in a while."

Val's face twisted with rage. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Velvette snapped, glaring at both of them. "I don't have time for this stupid shit. Get on with it or this meeting is over."

Vox's unhinged smile slowly relaxed into his charming PR one. "Of course, my apologies Velvette, Val. I can see why you're not...convinced yet. Let me fix that."

The projector on the wall suddenly sparked to life, displaying three pie charts and a legend with many colorful categories. He gestured to them from left to right. "This is a distribution of our profits from ten years ago, five years ago, and last year."

"We have eyes," Velvette droned boredly.

Vox's antennae sparked in irritation, but he continued regardless. "Y/n's helped develop countless programs and softwares, and with her expertise our earnings jumped thirty seven percent, especially during the collaboration between Voxtek and DeepSpace VR. Now, what happens now that she's taken her business elsewhere? Hell knows she has the computing power to run it without our servers—"

"So, we're supposed to just bend over backwards for a few bucks?" Valentino snarled, crossing his arms.

Vox's screen glitched as he struggled to keep his composure. Thirty seven percent was not just a few bucks. But he knew antagonizing Val right now was more trouble than it was worth. "Val," he chuckled, sauntering forward to rest a hand on the backrest of Valentino's chair, leaning into his space. "Since when have you said no to money?" His eye widened, rings spinning.

"Since it walked out on two legs and ignored us," Valentino snorted.

"Val, I need you to see the bigger picture!" He grasped both of Valentino's shoulders, moving behind him so he could speak enticingly into his ear. "This is an opportunity to keep our brand at the top, and get dirt on that radio bitch. The future is what matters, and we are going to be the ones pioneering it."

The projector flickered to one of the surveillance cameras pointed at an exterior angle of the hotel. Then, the image suddenly rippled to show an artificial video of the same property, but instead of the tacky hotel, there stood a modern building adorned with a bright, neon V logo.

Valentino's smile grew at his last sentence, and he turned in his seat, leaning his forehead to rest against Vox's screen. "I like your vision, Cariño," he purred, grinning wickedly to show off his golden tooth. "But, if your little money-making cocksleeve doesn't come back, well, don't say I didn't tell you so~" he said in a sing-song voice, long tongue coming up to lick languidly along the side of Vox's monitor.

Vox's grin froze on his face, screen glitching.

Valentino chuckled, pushing out of his seat before strutting away. "Oh, and Vox baby," he threw a saucy wink over his shoulder. "Come find me when you get lonely, yeah?"

The double doors slammed shut behind him, bathing the room in silence. Which Velvette quickly broke, of course.

"What the fuck, Vox?" She scrubbed a hand down her face. "All this for a profit we can afford to lose? Really?"

"Velvette," his smile twitched up to full, blinding attention again. "Have I ever let you down before? Everything is under control, trust me!"

"Uh huh," Velvette scowled, unconvinced. "You know, Alastor and Y/n are the only people you've ever really lost it for, and you're going to a place where there's both of them."

"What, you don't think I can handle myself?" His smile strained.

Velvette shook her head, standing up from her chair and approaching him. "You know, that PR shit might work on everyone else, but I can see through your bullshit, Vox," she gave him a hard stare. "Just don't fuck everything up, got it? Or I'll make you wish you didn't."

His fists clenched as she walked past him, smile dropping into a scowl as soon as she was out of view.

****

—PRESENT—

"Whatever you do, make sure he's at least ten floors away from me," you muttered to Vaggie, watching as Charlie gave the bane of your existence an awkward tour of the hotel.

The atmosphere was so tense and suffocating, it was starting to make you incredibly antsy. The others were no better. Angel was drumming his fingers anxiously on the bar counter, Niffty was curiously regarding the new "resident" and Husk was already chugging his second bottle of hard liquor. Holy hell, and you couldn't even forget about Alastor if you tried, the radio demon releasing a constant stream of static and looking about ready to sacrifice someone—preferably Vox—in an incredibly painful and sadistic ritual.

"I can't believe she's letting him stay," Angel hissed under his breath, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Actually no, what am I saying? This is Charlie, of course she'd let him stay. God damnit."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, only to find your favorite stiff drink on the counter behind you. You nodded gratefully at Husk, taking the glass and throwing it back like water.

"At least the hotel's in one piece!" Niffty chirped, her one eye back to tracking any stray insects. "Less mess to clean up." Her knife gleamed as she stabbed a cockroach clean in half with a deranged giggle.

"This isn't going to end well," Vaggie scowled darkly. "He's going to try something, I fucking know it."

"Yeah, no shit," Angel groaned, Husk grunting in agreement.

"Or," Pentious chimed in, hair flaring thoughtfully. "He truly does want to redeem himself?"

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at him incredulously, before a unanimous, resounding "no," rang out.

****

"Anddd here's your room key," Charlie presented it to him with a flourish, beaming brightly. "We hope you enjoy your stay! Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served downstairs in the dinning room, or you can go out and get your own food! We'll get your survey ready for you tomorrow so that you can start building your schedule."

"Schedule?" He quirked a brow, taking the room key from her outstretched hand. "For what, exactly?"

"Oh! Um," Charlie laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "We actually host group therapy activities and trust exercises with the other staff and residents! You'll fill out a short survey so that we can personalize—"

"O-kay, let me stop you there, sweetheart," he chuckled, grin widening condescendingly. "I think it's great what you're doing, really, I do. But I've already got a schedule, and a billion dollar company to run. I'm quite the busy man, you know?"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "But—"

"Seriously, my sales would fall and what would my clients say? Hm?" A crowd booing track played in the background as Vox shook his head like she was just some uneducated child. "So thanks, but no thanks." He shot her a wink, before the door slammed in her face.

Charlie blinked in shock, taking a few seconds to process that she'd been dismissed in her own hotel. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged away.

But that only lasted for a few steps, before she perked right back up. What was she thinking? Giving up so quickly on one of her clients?

Charlie grinned, smacking a fist into her palm. She'd just have to try harder.

Unbeknownst to her, a figure had been watching the entire exchange from the shadows. Your jaw clenched, claws digging into the drywall.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head in disdain.

****

As soon as the door shut, Vox deflated like a balloon.

"Fuckkk," he hissed under his breath, sliding down the door tiredly. "The hell am I doing?"

He allowed himself only a few minutes to wallow in self-pity, before he sighed, pushing off the floor and getting to work. In less than twenty minutes, he had the whole room wired to his needs, electronic Voxtek devices littering the previously empty spaces. Now he had a way to travel without leaving his room.

He was just about to dematerialize into one of his laptops when a familiar, chilling presence made him freeze.

"Why, you only just got here! Don't tell me you're leaving already," Alastor chuckled, tilting his head in mock concern.

The radio demon was leaning an elbow against his dresser, just casually invading his privacy. God, just his smug face made Vox want to kill him already.

"What's it to you, old timer?" Vox sneered, electricity sparking from his claws in agitation. "Unlike you, some of us actually have responsibilities. So if you don't mind—"

"Oh my, breaking your word to Y/n already!" Alastor shook his head with a grin, sound effects of a heckling crowd emanating from his microphone cane. "How very...disappointing. Truly, I'd expect better from you!"

Vox's eye widened, the swirling rings on full display as his teeth grinded in rage. "Y-y-y-you keep her fucking name out of your filthy, cannibalistic mouth! You hear me?" He glitched furiously, electricity sparking in glowing webs from his monitor.

"Aha! Someone's a little on edge," Alastor laughed in tandem with an artificial, mocking laugh track. "Really, that was too easy! You're losing your touch."

"Get the fuck out of my room!" Vox snapped.

"Gladly," the radio demon grinned menacingly, the corners of his mouth stretching to unnatural proportions. "But first, I came to deliver a little message."

Vox gritted his teeth, curling his fists by his sides. His electricity buzzed under his skin, ready to electrocute the fuck out of this crazy fucker if he needed to.

"If you and your merry band of idiots pull even the smallest stunt to sabotage the hotel," Alastor approached him, antlers growing as his eyes turned to radio dials. "I think you'll find out that absence did not make my heart grow fonder."

"What, don't tell me you actually care about this place," Vox grinned, baring his teeth. "The whole redemption thing doesn't really seem to be up your alley, no offense."

"Oh, of course not! Haha! Don't be ridiculous," Alastor chuckled like he'd said something hilarious, but it was overlayed with bursts of radio static. "But I'm afraid I've invested too much in this source of entertainment for you to ruin it with your cheap, unoriginal touch."

The message was clear: don't touch my things.

Vox curled his lip, unwilling to back down no matter how utterly disturbing Alastor's demon form was up close. It gave him chilling flashbacks of their last explosive disagreement. "Then stay away from Y/n," he spat.

Alastor's grin widened, eyes glowing an eerie green as he held out his hand. "Is that a deal?"

Vox grimaced, looking at Alastor's creepy, voodoo doll appearance. "Hell no, you creepy fucker."

Then, like whiplash, Alastor's demon form receded and the air became breathable again. "Well, glad we cleared that up, then!" He laughed exuberantly, twirling his cane. "Nice catching up, chum!"

The demon grinned as he disappeared into shadowy wisps of smoke, melding with the darkness against the walls.

Vox's jaw clenched, electric anger vibrating through him and rattling his teeth. "Fuck!" He kicked over the first thing he saw, which happened to be a wooden workbench. It took a few deep breaths for him to finally calm down and collect his thoughts.

When he was no longer at risk of causing a city-wide outage again (that had been fucking embarrassing), he made his way back to his laptop like he was originally planning to do, only to pause in shock when he saw the brand new device short circuiting, screen full of pixelated static.

An explosive rage convulsed in his chest, the lights in the hotel flickering ominously.

"You red bambi ass fucker!"

****

<—Part 2 Chapter Index Part 4 —>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah @yellowsubiesdance @dirk-strides @justaspectatorforfandomarts @harmoira @sunnyslug @gum-iie @lady-valtieri @mit-suri @whatelsecouldgowrong @sillysimplysilky @eternalera @aoiyx @hazellight11 @hopefully-not @tsuvvy @imcryinginemo @dinorawrss @rekoloid @ayesha-eroticax3 @sle3pyh3ad2 @l0verboyxoxo1111

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godmadeaterribleerror · 6 months ago

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Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?”

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt, anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

256 notes · View notes

areyouwell · 4 months ago

Text

Algophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of pain. Children and adults may have Algophobia if they possess an extreme aversion to feeling pain, typically physical.

Ch.7

Ch.6, Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, vomit, uhhhhhhh nothing intense really, for once... honestly can't remember and i literally JUST reread it :')

Word Count: 14.5K

A/N: told ya i'd keep writing. sorry this one took a little extra time, i'm literally on a train in France having finished editing and proofreading the chapter like, two minutes ago so slay boots. can't believe this fic is almost over like holy shit... congrats to anyone who's ready all of it so far because it's well within the world count of a novel and by the end will probably be over that threshold... so slay of us good job teamsquad also sorry if the layout is janky i hate posting from my phone

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor

Birds. The chittering of swallows, to be exact. Beyond the soft beams of sunlight through the quartered window, the chittering of swallows had caressed him awake, a gentle breeze rustling the orange leaves against the glass, whispering secrets into the light of the morning.

It wasn’t rare Logan woke up before you, in fact, considering how little of a morning person you were, it was rare you woke up before midday full-stop—and this morning seemed no different. Occasional snores bubbled from your chest, you lightly swiped at an invisible irritation around your nose as you turned in his arms, nestling tighter into his chest. Logan hummed a tender smile, smoothing your brow with the pad of his thumb. Your features furrowed as you attempted to escape his touch, unappreciative of the disturbance no matter how gentle.

Huffing a small laugh, he allowed you to burrow further into his embrace, tightening his arms around your body. Six months of this. Six months of the quiet peace of escape. Honestly, he couldn’t be more thankful for the raid on the mansion that day. Here he was, the love of his life tangled in his arms, slowly waking on a sunny, breezy autumnal morning.

His eyes raised to beyond the window, smelling the rain on the air even from inside. Maybe an hour away? An hour and a half at a push. He groaned, realising he’d need to get the bike into the barn before the showers hit. Was leaving the cosy confines of the bed really worth saving and having to scale off some rust later? Absolutely not, but Logan knew you’d be mad at him if he let a splash of rainwater ruin all his hard work.

Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your brow, your features scrunched in disapproval as she shifted you out of his embrace having to move quickly before you searched for him again and attached yourself to his arm. You whined gravelly protests but settled back down when he pulled the covers back up over your shoulders. He’d make a coffee for you when he came back in. One of those strong ‘morning’ coffees you called them. With at least three heaps of espresso, no sugar, no cream, just caffeine.

Slipping on a fresh pair of jeans and a deep green flannel that you said brought out the colours in his eyes –utter bullshit in his correct opinion– Logan tip-toed down the stairs almost comically slow. He knew you wouldn’t wake. The sun could have exploded and you’d be more irritated if it had woken you up before 1 pm, but he still liked to take care not to disturb you, more out of principle than anything else.

The morning was as crisp as he initially thought, his skin prickly with the cool breeze. He hadn’t bothered with his jacket, since he would only be out for less than thirty seconds. Pulling the tarp from the bike and flicking up the kickstand, he wheeled it back up the small slope and into the barn. If things continued going the way they were going, Logan thought about perhaps clearing out some of the rusted old machinery, maybe making room for a chicken pen, or maybe a stall for a cow or something. You’d be good at raising animals, he thought. And he preferred the idea of getting fresh produce rather than having to head to the store every week or so.

It was an idea that refused to leave his head as he looked around the small space. Just against the far wall, he could imagine a little coop where the old, rusty plough now lay discarded. It would be a ballache to remove it, and Logan didn’t doubt the sharp edges where the metal had rusted away would get a good few swipes in, but it seemed worth it in his mind’s eye to see you crouched next to the nest, holding up a single egg proudly as if you’d laid it yourself.

But if he was to get started, he’d need his jacket. And maybe a thick pair of gloves. Sure, he could heal, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get pissed at him when he wouldn’t take these kinds of precautions, bringing up that one time he said he wanted to do things like a normal couple, to which you’d use to your advantage. “Normal people don’t simply heal their wounds three seconds later, Lo’.”

It was endearing, how much you cared. How hard you tried to keep him safe despite the fact he literally couldn’t be hurt. With a fond smile tugging his lips up at the thought of you, Logan draped the tarp back over the bike, securing the tags around the frame before patting the motorcycle, much like Todd did.

Todd.

Logan blinked. Why did he suddenly have the urge to tear into the man’s chest and rip out his fucking heart? Was his anger returning? But Todd hadn’t done anything, at least not that he could remember. Sure, he was flirtatious with you, but you never let it go too far and it made you laugh, so there wasn’t much harm there. So where the fuck did this sudden urge to split his skull come from?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he attempted to release his anger with his exhale, feeling the rage simmer down slightly, though still extremely accessible beneath the surface. Maybe he was too far away from you. Oh, he was down so bad if that was the reason. He refused to believe it until he left the barn, pulling the bolt shut, and turning to see you in the doorway, two mugs of steaming coffee grasped in your hands.

Was there a better view? He couldn’t think of anything sweeter than what he was seeing, the woman he loved, leaning against the doorframe to the cabin he shared with her away from the rest of the world, safe and free and at peace. Your soft smile could start a war, and your laugh could end it. There was no clean line to where you started and he ended, your very souls totally and completely intertwined.

And you lost her.

Logan whirled at the trees above, searching for where he swore he’d just heard a voice hiss. But he saw nothing other than clouded blue skies and fluttering leaves like an artist’s palette of a sunset. You called his name and he slowly turned his head back to you.

And froze completely.

A small crimson stain started to spread from the centre of your chest, sanguine blood flowing from a fresh wound down your front. Panic leached the colour from his face as he lurched forward, only for his feet to be stuck to the ground. He looked down frantically, tugging at his thighs in an attempt to pull himself free. You were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to keep you safe.

A strangled gurgle was ripped from your throat and he looked back to you just as you opened your mouth, a fountain of blood bubbling from your scarlet-stained lips. Trying to scream resulted in nothing but a rippling stream of sanguine with a guttural yelp. A hand gripped your shoulder from the dark beyond the doorway, a serrated knife dragging a thin line across the hollow of your neck as your palms flew to the arm holding you still in a weak attempt to stop him.

Logan desperately clawed at his legs, eyes unable to look away as Dr.Kreva stepped out from behind your bleeding body, the knife held in his closed grip. A roar tore up his voice, scraping up along his throat as the serrated edge of the blade inched further into the tendons of your neck, snapping through the muscles with a sickening squelch. Your eyes widened as your voice cut off, hands gripping Kreva’s arm falling limp by your sides, light fading from your irises.

Smoke rose from somewhere behind the cabin, and Logan could only blink before the wood erupted into flame, licks and tendrils of scorching reds devouring the exterior. He could do nothing, stuck in a quagmire of his guilt, hands of fire clawing up your legs, igniting your clothes, melting the flesh from your bones. Kreva’s glasses shone in the golden glow, stepping back into the inferno and disappearing as the support beam collapsed.

Staring in abject horror, Logan fell forward, finally released by whatever held his fast. His knees bit as he struck the earth, facing your skeleton lying face down, blackened bones of your hand outstretched towards him in a final, desperate plea for help.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered to your vacant corpse. He’d failed you. Keeping you safe was his only fucking job and he’d failed. He promised you he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t abandon you, and he’d fucking failed.

The shadows rippled and contorted around your skeleton, rising from the ground to conjure seven figures. The same silhouettes he’d woken up to stare him down six months ago. Simultaneously, their hands stretched out over you, void-like fingers splayed, and your bones began to sink into the earth.

The ghost of your body rippled beneath the surface of the darkness before the black smoke curled up from the soil, an eighth shadow figure reforming from the void to complete what he had suspected ever since he’d read the file. There were eight of you. Eight Subjects.

Nine Lives Minus One.

They were the literal shadows of your past. And it terrified him that you had now become one. Logan’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked between the eight figures, shadowing faces simultaneously snapping to look at him, head cocking at unnatural angles.

The one he knew to be yours reached up to its neck, wrapping its long thin fingers around its own throat, before squeezing. A scream echoed in his ears, tearing at the walls of his mind before he was thrust forward, falling through to reality.

Nausea roiled in his gut as Logan jolted awake, bolt upright. The image of your charring body, flesh dripping from your bones burned in his mind’s eye, and that slight nausea shifted to the undeniable urge to vomit.

Staggering from his bed to the bathroom, bile burned his throat as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the sounds of his own gagging echoing about the empty stall.

Two months. It had been two months since he’d lost you. And every day felt like thirty. Rage and grief accompanied him like a constant companion. The memories of your laughter, your smile, your teasing comments haunted the halls of the school, corridors once alight with comfort and giggles now felt cold damp. Absent.

They were making progress. They reassured him every long, long day, they were making progress with locating you. Charles had almost locked himself away with Cerebro to locate you, but it was difficult to get a read on anything when any signatures he felt from the once-destroyed facility kept slipping from his mental grasp. Subject One, or Obscurity, was somehow hiding all and any neurotransmitters from the old environment centre. Either that or what whole place was coated entirely with steel, which was also a possibility.

But none of them knew because nobody could get close enough to fucking find out. It was damn near impossible without alerting upwards of sixty armed guards to their approaching location. And whilst Logan would tank the bullets and take them all on alone, Scott wouldn’t let him, and neither would he let him endanger any other member of the team by storming a full frontal assault.

So Logan was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Every day, you slipped further from him. That first night without you, he’d borderline commandeered the Blackbird to get to Todd. He needed to know what happened. Why he did do it? And it wasn’t a polite conversation.

Rage coursed through his veins as he sliced open the lock to Todd’s garage, throwing up the doors with enough force to break the mechanism completely. Pausing only to sniff the air, Logan growled as he scented Todd’s presence, a frantic Ororo trailing behind after him, placing a weak attempt at a placating hand on his bicep. But he didn’t want to be calmed down. Logan wanted blood. Fuck that, he craved blood. Wanted to taste it as he ripped Todd’s throat out with his damn teeth.

Though the office light was off, Todd’s scent was stronger in that direction, and Logan was fairly certain he was hiding. Good. Smartest decision he’d made in the last six months. Although he would have been smarter to start running the second he betrayed Logan’s trust and had you ripped away from him.

With a balled fist, Logan thrust his hand through the glass on the door, barely wincing as shards of glass embedded themselves in his knuckles. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that kind of sensation. And true to his senses, Todd swore from behind the desk, his voice shaky. Good.

“It better have been fuckin’ worth it for ya.” Logan snarled, ripping the desk from its roots and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. Various effects scattered about the floor, a lamp shattering upon impact, files and paperwork strewn like flyers in the wind.

“Jus’ w-wait a minute. I didn’t ‘ave a choice. Bastard threatened my family, what would you ‘ave done?” Todd held his hands up in defence, bowing his head as Logan’s adamantium claws slid from his freshly healed knuckles. The man’s eyes widened in horror. “Yer a fuckin’ mutant?”

Ororo’s eyes blanched, lightning crashing through a telephone pole beyond the doors outside. The blood drained from Todd’s face, as the realisation dawned on him that, they were all mutants.

Logan hated how he understood the man’s fear. And he was right. If the roles had been reversed, if it had been you who was being threatened, he would have cracked in an instant. If your safety was compromised, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure right whatever had happened.

“Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ weasel, Todd. I fuckin’ trusted you!” It was taking every fibre of his self-control not to plunge his claws through his throat and rip through his tendons, but he took a deep, steadying breath.

“What happened, Todd?” Ororo asked, her eyes fading back to their natural colour.

Todd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Round three months after y’all moved in, this glasses-wearing sleezebag waltzed into this shop like ‘e owned the fuckin’ place, askin’ after the pair of yous. I told ‘im to get lost, I weren’t in the business of information. Till ‘e asked about me wife. And me daughter, Lisa. Put the fear of God in me I tell ya.

“I didn’t ‘ave a choice, Logan, I swear it. I’d never ‘ave told ‘im anythin’ if I knew this were gonna ‘appen.” He pleaded, and Logan had to step away to stop himself from at least punching the shit out of him.

“That’s why you called me, isn’t it? Not cuz of the money, but cuz you knew what was gonna happen.” The question was rhetorical. Of course that was the reason. And if he could turn back time, he would have picked up the phone in an instant, no questions asked. Maybe he could have avoided this altogether and you’d be safe and sound, curled up by his side, back at the mansion.

But as it stood, Logan’s mutation wasn’t time travel.

“I didn’t know exactly, but yeah, I knew somethin’ was gonna ‘appen tonight…” Todd admitted, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “I liked ‘er Logan. I did. She was–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, running a stressed hand through his hair. It was only 4:36 am. You had roughly two hours on him, but if he left now and took the bike, maybe he could catch you. Or better yet, if he took the Blackbird…”

“Logan…?”

No. He’d have to land the Blackbird, which would take far too long and he also wasn’t used to piloting something like that.

“Logan?”

He’d take the bike then. Head back to the cabin with the truck and exchange vehicles. But that would take too long, even if he floored it. Fuck! The truck was nowhere near fast enough either. He had to make a choice here, sacrifice time with the small possibility of catching up to you, or possibly sacrifice you and tail Kreva so he leads him straight back to the facility.

“Logan!”

He blinked, turning back to Ororo, who had her arms folded across her chest, her brows pinched in sympathy. “You can’t go after her. It’s too late. We need to strategise this because clearly, they’re expecting you to follow her immediately,” she explained, and he grit his teeth. She was right, and he fucking hated it. Because every second wasted here was yet another second you were in their capture, and fuck knows what they would do to you this time. The thought terrified him. “Come on… we’ll head back to the school, figure something out.” Logan didn’t move, his eyes hard as he glared at Ororo, the thought of leaving your behind had his gut writhing like a ball of vicious, furious snakes. Storm sighed, realising he wasn’t going to be convinced so easily. “She was a member of our team, Logan. She was our friend. We’re not abandoning her…” There was a determination in her eye that genuinely gave Logan a kernel of hope. She was right. You were their friend. You’d made such an impact in their lives, and they weren’t about to give you up so easily.

With an extended sigh, he nodded. Fine. He’d play by their rules. But the moment things stagnated, he’d fucking find you himself.

“I’ll look after yer truck. She’s–”

“I don’t fucking care.” he snapped, not bothering to spare so much as a glance over his shoulder before returning out to the jet.

That was two fucking months ago. And he was certain things had stagnated and he just wasn’t being told. Scott had banned him from surveillance missions, claiming his fuse was too short for missions such as those, and that if he saw where you were being held, he’d snap and tear through anything and everything in his path to get to you.

Not something Logan could disagree with, but he only acquiesced because Jean convinced him it was their best bet at finding you. It physically fucking hurt not to be involved in your rescue missions, but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t particularly want anybody else hurt or captured or killed or whatever the fuck they’d do to them.

Making sure his stomach wasn’t about to surprise him with another surge of bile, Logan stood to the basin, running the cold water from the tap and cupping his hands, splashing his face vigorously in a lame attempt to wash away the nightmare. Because that’s all it was. Just a nightmare. And despite him having intimate knowledge of your mutation, the fact that the last he saw of you, you were bleeding out on a floor of tarmac, scared the shit out of him. He knew you could heal. There was documented proof of you healing from several bullet wounds, however he couldn’t shake the image from his brain.

You barely knew what had happened before you dropped to the floor, your delicately concerned smile for him morphing and shifting to an expression of complete and utter shock. The crack of your skull on the pavement, the harsh gurgle of your coagulated blood as you spat at Kreva….

You didn’t have a choice. He knew that. He knew your body would have given into the shadow in a desperate attempt to heal yourself of the bullet in your chest, but that didn’t make the memories hurt any less.

That was the last he saw of you, and it fucking haunted him. Exhaling a shaky breath, Logan stared into the droplets in the sink, before raising his head, limp strands of dark brown hair hanging damp around his eyes. His gaze shifted to the reflection of the shower. It had taken him almost a week after being back to garner the courage to use it. Not only because every time he closed his eyes he saw your bleeding chest and blanching face, but also because it was identical to the shower in your ensuite, and it fucking hurt to be near it, let alone in it.

The porcelain cracked beneath his grip, pulling him from his memories back into the present. There were times he wished he could simply let himself be lost to the past. At least he was with you there. But he promised he’d find you. He promised he’d never leave you. And he didn’t intend to break it.

Shrugging on the same flannel he’d been wearing for days and a pair of extremely worn jeans, Logan checked his watch. Two minutes past nine. His lips tugged in a bittersweet smile. You’d be furious. Running a hand down the side of his face, Logan opened the door.

Only to find Scott standing on the other side, balled fist held up as if to knock a few times on Logan’s face. If he had the energy, Logan would ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but it seemed the team was taking it in turns to make sure he was alright now and then. Poor Scott. It seemed he’d drawn the short straw on a particularly shit morning.

“What?” He asked blankly, fighting the urge to silently barge past the man. Sure, they may have shared a sweet moment of understanding after he’d lost you, but that was two fucking months ago. And moments of sweet understanding weren’t enough to make up for the fact you were still missing.

Scott blew out a sigh of relief, clearly expecting Logan to simply walk past him. “Uh, Marie’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent? She wouldn’t talk to any of us…” Scott sounded almost suspicious, but the moment he mentioned it was urgent, Logan was gone, shouldering past him and down the hallway. “She’s out the back!” Cyclops called after him as if he needed any kind of help with directions. He could smell a plan brewing from a mile away.

True to his nose, and annoyingly, Scott’s directions, he found Marie out by the pond, alongside Kitty, Bobby, Peter, Jubilee, Julian and to his heartwarming surprise, Artie. All of them were dressed in their gear, other than Artie who’d simply donned a black pair of trousers, a black t-shirt and a matching beanie.

“We want to help,” Marie said by way of greeting, and Logan folded his arms across his chest, releasing a slightly exasperated breath. Honestly, he was shocked it took this long for them all to catch on. He was back, and you were nowhere to be seen. Classes had all but ceased completely and the Professor wouldn’t be seen for days, sometimes weeks on end. The rest of their little team nodded with boundless determination.

His chest ached with the knowledge there was no way he was about to let these students, your students, run head-first into danger, no matter how much they wanted to. “Look, kids, as it stands, we don’t even know–” he paused, having to steel his nerves. “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” It was entirely true. He knew you were alive. You had to be. He’d feel it if you weren’t, right? That’s at least how it felt to him. You were part of each other now, neither whole without the other. If you were head, he’d know it.

Kitty clenched her jaw, her hands balling into firsts by her sides, and Logan felt a pang of guilt. She knew. She must have known he was lying. She was somewhere between a student and an X-man, hovering between still learning and a member of the team. Being so close to you, however, it also seemed she had been left out of all the fun. His sympathy morphed into empathy, feeling her frustration as his own.

“She’s still alive.” Your friend whispered through clenched teeth, and Logan blew out a sigh. “They won’t let them help, sure, they’re still students, but I’m not. I’m part of the goddamn team, Logan. And so are you!” She hissed, and Marie and Bobby shared a look of concern before Rogue’s hand touched her shoulder compassionately.

“We don’t care that we’re students. You said it yourself, we’re stronger than anyone realises. We can help.” Bobby urged, and if Logan was being honest with himself, their argument was fairly convincing. They were strong, much stronger than even you realised. But he also knew that if–

No. Not if. When they got you back, if you ever found out that he’d allowed the students to help on the mission, he was pretty sure you’d castrate him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let ya. Not only cuz you’re still students, but you all know, if she found out I was the one who let you help, I’d be killed.” Huffed a smile of understanding. Of course, they wanted to help you, you’d helped so many of them in the past. But he didn’t think that was it. This wasn’t out of some favour for a favour obligation towards you. You were loved. You were so so loved, by so many.

And by nobody more than him.

“Be our spy then.” Jubilee offered from behind Marie, to which Logan raised a brow.

“And how would I do that when? I’m not involved in the planning.” He tried so hard to keep the frustrated growl from his voice, but Artie's slight step back proved his failure. Fuck.

“You gotta convince them. Please? For us?” The hope in Marie’s voice took him right back to where he’d found her almost three years ago now, running from her past. Running from herself. It made sense how you and she got along so well. You were both running.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Logan could feel seven pairs of eyes all trained on him. He wasn’t one to bend to peer pressure, but at the same time, he needed an excuse for himself to get involved, and if doing it for the kids was enough, then that’s what he’d do.

“Alright. Alright. Damn, you sure none of you has a persuasion mutation?” He asked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. At least Artie found it funny, the kid giggling away to himself in the back.

Marie beamed in gratitude, leaping into his arms and giving him one of the squeeziest hugs Logan thinks he’s ever received. “I knew you’d help! Thanks, Logan, as soon as you hear anything, please let us know, kay?” She stepped back and Logan once again felt that familiar stab of guilt impale his gut. He knew he was going to have to lie to them, because the moment they found out some kind of progress had been made, they’d be out the door like a shot before he could even start to yell ‘wait’.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t mention anythin’ ‘kay? They don’t let me know anythin’ as it is, so this’ll be hard enough without them thinkin’’m feeding back information to the damn students.” Logan grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Okay?” He repeated after a beat of silence, only this time to a chorus of nodded heads and various ‘yes sir’s. “Good, now back to classes, all of you.”

“But… Professor Grey didn’t turn up to teach us…” Julian chimed in, to Logan’s irate twitch of his brow.

“Then go and study.” His voice left no room for argument as each student bowed their head in defeat and dragged their feet back inside until his was just him and Kitty left behind. Logan studied her face for a bit, much more crestfallen than he’d ever seen her. “Y’alright?” He asked, though instantly kicking himself for the ridiculous question. She was probably just as alright as he was, which was absolutely not alright at all.

Kitty clenched her jaw again, unable to raise her eyes further than the blades of grass at her feet. “She left again…” Logan’s heart cracked for her. You hadn’t had time to explain anything eight months ago after the attack. He didn’t even think you saw her before you left, unable to say goodbye before you were on the road with him. And now, he’d returned and you were still gone.

“She didn’t want to, kiddo. She didn’t have a choice…” he didn’t know how much Kitty knew about your situation, but he assumed anything regarding who you were, what had happened in your past and who had taken you was kept on a need-to-know basis. He hated every tear that spilled from the poor girl’s eyes, her frustration conflicting her her confusion. Wordlessly, Logan stepped forward and enveloped her in his embrace, finding the way she instantly fell into his chest heartbreaking.

“I miss her so much…” she managed to sob, her fingers clutching onto the arms of his jacket. Tears pricked his own hazel eyes, having to tilt his head up to stop them from falling. He hadn’t heard his own agony spoken aloud like this, and pain wracked the centre of his chest.

“Me too.” was all he could utter back, fighting to keep his voice stable, clearing his throat in an attempt to loosen the lump constricting his breathing. Kitty stepped back from his arms, furiously wiping the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms.

“Right, yeah, ‘course you do. Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“You’re good. It’s actually kinda… refreshing. Everyone tip-toes ‘round me like ’m gonna bite their head off. Can’t really blame 'em.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. He guessed he should be grateful for the way people were trying to be respectful, but it only resulted in pissing him off monumentally.

“You have been looking like you want to tear the school down recently…” Kitty giggled lightly, and Logan relaxed, thankful he was able to bring a smile back to the girl’s face. His chest constricted as he thought of your proud smile. Teaching the kids he could do. Making them feel better in any kind of capacity? That’s where he fell short, but you excelled. “S’just… Jade was like a sister to me. I hated her for what happened, but we leant on each other so much, she became the sister to me Jade used to be. And I never told her I didn’t hate her anymore. Because I did, or, at least part of me did, but I let that go…” Kitty took a deep breath, tilting her head to the sky as fresh tears stung her eyes. “What if– what if I don’t get to tell her that?”

Logan grit his teeth. “You will. Listen, I still gotta buncha shit I wanna say to her, and there’s nothin’ that can stop me from sayin’ it. We’ll get her back, aight? I promise.” He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but Kitty blew out a long breath, her tears remaining behind her lashes. If he could bring her some kind of comfort, then perhaps he could start believing it himself. You weren’t dead. He was set on that. But you were in pain. He knew that too. Because whatever they did to you in the past wouldn’t hold a candle to how things had changed in the last seven years. New technology, new information, new drugs.

New weapons.

He shook his head. Thinking about what you were going through wouldn’t help to get you back. And as if sensing his train of thought, Kitty stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “We will get her back.” She reiterated, only this time it was for his benefit. He offered her a weak, grim smile, before turning back to head into the mansion once again.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Jean who came sprinting out the door, almost colliding straight into him. She skidded to a stop, pausing as if she couldn’t find the right words. Logan raised a brow.

“We have a lead.” Was all she said, though her words took a moment to register, Kitty came barrelling up behind him. “Or rather, we found a way in.”

Rap rap rap!

A groan rumbled from your lips as you held your pillow over your ears, your head pounding. Your shift last night had been long and brutal, and that was without the endless shots your coworkers poured for you.

Rap rap rap!

“Fuck off!” You called back, hearing a light giggle from beyond your messy bedroom door.

“C’mon, it’s almost midday! You can’t sleep forever!” You attempted to hide beneath the covers of your bed as Morgana opened the door, her face as bright as it usually was this early in the morning. And by this early, you really meant eleven-forty.

“I’m serious Morgo, fuck off. My shift was exhausting and I just want to sleep forever…” you complained, almost hiding as she drew back the curtains to your window. “Morgana?!”

“Get. Up!” She leapt onto your bed, hardly mindful of wherever your limbs lay, before snuggling in next to you, crimson strands of curly hair falling into your face. You sighed heavily. You loved Morgo, you really did, but she could be a total pain in your ass sometimes.

“She still not up yet?” Rowan called from the door, and you swore lowly as he too stepped into your room, followed by Atlas.

“Yeah sure, party in my room. Free real estate up in here!” You called sarcastically from beneath the covers as Rowan attempted to pull them from your body. You gasped in horror, clutching the duvet like your life depended on it.

“Don’t you fucking dare Rowan, I will drown you in shadow I swear to fucking god!” You bit, earning yourself a fit of giggled from Morgana and an appalled gape from Atlas. Your brother placed his hands on his hips, raising a light gold brow as he looked down at you.

“If you could control your powers like I can, maybe I’d believe you, freakshow. C’mon, ouuuuuut of bed.” He strained against your strength as you briefly played tug of war, before you gave up when Atlas stepped in to help your brother, ripping the covers from your clutch with their combined strength and dragging Morgana with it, the girl falling off the foot of your bed with a heavy thump.

“Hey! What the hell?” She slapped Atlas’ thigh and the poor boy jumped back, offering her a shrug of an apology. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ya know, I don’t know a single twenty-two-year-old who lays in bed all day. Oh, wait, yeah I do. It’s you.” Rowan poked your now exposed foot and you went to kick him half-heartedly. He took a single step back, out of your range.

“Yeah well, none of you fuckers work nights so–”

“I do!” Erin poked her head around the door, toothbrush sticking out from between her white frothy lips. It seems you weren’t the only one out late. “Well, shometimes, it–”

“Take ya brush out ya mouth, Erin…” Atlas sighed, a hand braced against his brow as if being around you all was exhausting. The girl rolled her eyes, tilting her head up so her minty saliva wouldn’t drip all over the wooden floors.

“It depends on the rota, I don’t work late every shift, unlike you.” She finished, placing the toothbrush back in her mouth and dipping out of sight. You heard the tap run as Erin spit out her toothpaste, returning around the door as she wiped her mouth, “We need to get you a new job, girlie. This one’s destroying you. Honestly, you could carry my weekly shop in the bags under your eyes.” Erin crossed the room with the sole purpose of prodding the centre of your nose, before plopping her ass down on the bed next to you.

You looked at the four of them individually, finding a bubble of happiness blooming in your chest. You loved these people. They were your family. They were everything to you. And despite your shitty job, your long hours, the tiny apartment that the seven of you were supposed to share, and how antisocial Naji was, you found yourself feeling extremely grateful for your circumstances.

“I’ll look into it…” you sighed, much to Erin and Altas’ shared glee. Clearly, he was getting tired of healing your various bar-wounds, coming home with various cuts on your palm from where you’d completely misjudged the fall of your knife when slicing up garnish.

“Knew ya would!” Erin chimed, twirling a strand of her badly dyed green hair between her fingers. Her justification was that she could control nature, so surely she should look green, no? But her original black roots had started to show through and she couldn’t be bothered to go through the faff of dyeing it all over again, so she’d just decided to grow it out.

With an irritated sigh, you stretched your arms high above your head, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to rid yourself of the crick in your neck. “Fine, I’ll get up. God, I hate Saturdays. None of you motherfuckers seem to work weekends either.” You grumbled, shooting an exasperated look to Atlas as he muttered ‘language’ under his breath.

“Did you have ya dream again?” Morgana asked, finally removing herself from your floor and dusting herself off. Rowan and Atlas went to head back down the stairs, where you could now smell bacon rising from the kitchen. Maybe it was worth getting up if Rowan was making breakfast. Or lunch, you guessed.

“Hm?” You asked, having not listened to her question at all. The girl rolled her eyes, slapping your arm as she followed you to the bathroom.

“Your dream? Did ya have it? I need to know more about Mr.Sexy and his hot claws.” She grinned and you snorted a laugh, before taking a moment to try to remember if you even dreamed at all last night. Though your awakening had been rude, you’d awoken feeling a slight panic in your chest which had nothing to do with Morgana storming your room. Although if you were being quite honest, you didn’t really want her to know more than she already did. You had a sneaking suspicion she was writing down your dreams in the hopes that she would dream of your nighttime visitor.

“Yeah, actually, I did…” you started hesitantly, giving her reflection in the mirror a flat look as she clapped her hands excitedly. Erin scooted over across your bed so she could be involved in the conversation, listening through the open door. “I don’t remember much of it,” you confessed, rolling your eyes as Morgana’s face fell. “But it was pretty mundane. We were just…” you took a moment, pretending to try and remember what it was about. “We were just chatting. On a bed, but like, a four-poster bed. Same one as last time, with the whole crossed gun thing above the headboard” It was one you’d genuinely had before, and Morgana’s shoulder sagged in disappointment. “Sorry Morgo.”

“Wait that’s so cute, why’re you apologising?” Erin called from the bed, and you snorted a laugh.

“Because I’ve had that one before. It seems to be recurring.” You shrugged, feeling a little nugget of guilt swell in your gut. Now you’d thought about it, your dream last night had been harrowing. You were caked in blood, lying on the road. He was reaching for you, stationary, the world around swirling and blurry with shadows before you blinked and he was gone. Two months you’d been having dreams similar to this one, or at least starring the same man. He was incredibly attractive, hence Morg’s nickname for him after you described him to her, but you knew nothing about him. Each dream he was silent. You were too. You were just near each other, either doing mundane things or going through what you assumed was the worst moment of your dream self’s life. It was really fucking weird.

“Awww… I wanted something new.” Morgana pouted and you narrowed your eyes at her reflection, spitting your toothpaste into the basin before splashing water across your face in a lame attempt to freshen up and wash away the memory of your nightmare.

Twirling to face her, you placed a hand on your hip. “Yeah well, seems my mind’s just conjuring shit on repeat now sooooo…” you made a face and Morgana stuck her tongue out at you, before padding out the bathroom with you in tow.

“Still, s’interesting you get dreams of the same guy. S’like you’re having a relationship in your head… wait no that just sounds sad.” Erin furrowed her brows in an attempt to think of another way of putting it, but gave up almost instantly. You flopped back down on your bed, leaning forward to your chest of drawers against the left side wall, and the fact you could easily reach the drawers from your bed was a testament to just how small your room was. Pulling out a loose pair of sweats and a grey hoodie, you didn’t hesitate to strip in front of the two girls. Having known them since childhood, it was an uncommon occurrence for the three of you to change in front of each other. And this was no different. Though Morgana’s brows furrowed as her eyes found a scar cutting straight across your chest, from just above your left breast, over the centre of your breastbone, to down below the right-hand side of your ribcage. It was gnarled and jagged, a slice made without much care, but you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it.

“That’s new, when’dya get that?” She asked, eyeing you suspiciously. You’re head cocked to one side, raising a brow in confusion.

“I’ve always had this, whaddya mean?” An ember of concern ignited in your gut as you regarded her for a moment. You watched the way her eyes lost focus, almost dissociating for a moment, before she shook her head to clear the haze behind her eyes.

“Right… yeah no you totally have. Sorry, must be goin’ nuts.” The girl grinned, and you inhaled a relieved breath. You didn’t need Morgana careening off the rails right now. She was the one who kept you stable, or at least less grumpy.

“S’alright. Tough few days?” You tugged on your sweats, already hating the fact that in two hours, you’d have to be getting ready for work. It took an hour to commute to the bar, that’s if the buses were on time and not disappearing randomly. God you fucking hated the public transport here.

Morgana nodded a little absently as if still fighting back whatever brain fog she’d just encountered. “Yeah, something like that…” She trailed off, and you didn’t push any further. It happens to all of you from time to time. You were talking to Altlas the other day about the way you’d all graffiti the walls of your first hideout when you were kids, talking in detail about the first sketch you’d done before transferring it onto the wall. Only, he didn’t remember it that way. You went back and forth for a while, until he had that same faraway look enter his eye, and all of a sudden he was agreeing with you, as if a switch was flipped in his brain.

“Oh! Before he left Joseph said you could have the rest of his milkshake, by the way. In payment for the pasta you made him yesterday.” Erin chimed in, examining her nails, her legs sprawled across your bed like it was her own. And honestly, you all acted like that. The rooms were all pretty communal at this point, you’d known each other for so long.

You perked up a little. Milkshake and bacon? Maybe getting up before midday was worth it after all. Not that it was much before midday now, and in fact, the small alarm on your watch just told you it had just gone twelve. Only two hours til you needed to leave.

Fucking great.

“Kind of him, I’d take it with me if Carlos wasn’t such a stickler for company drinks. I think he’d stab me if I brought in my own…” You half-joked, to both Erin and Morgana’s morbid shock.

“Girl we really need to get you a new job.”

“Like, ASAP…” Morg finished, and you scoffed slightly. You didn’t need one that badly. Just one within the next few years would be nice…

You blew out a breath, standing from your bed after pulling on a pair of warm socks. There was a winter chill in the air, and you were certain this year was going to be a cold one. You could feel it in your bones. Rubbing at your arms, you almost slipped down the stairs, Morgana’s hand instantly steadying your steps in a hand clutching your arm. How fucking tired were you? It felt like your legs straight up didn’t damn work.

“Enjoy your trip?” You heard Rowan call from the stove, and you clenched your jaw against your dumb smile. God, you hated that joke. Or, at least, you told yourself you did, when in actual fact it made you smile every damn time he said it.

“Ha-ha, yeah ‘see you next fall’ you’re so fucking funny Ro’.” Smoothing your brow with your hand, you went to sit at the breakfast far, the rest of your found family having forsaken a dining table upon moving in and instead opting for this slightly decrepit, unstable wooden bar with garish-coloured seats that were various heights. Even the lighting matched the anarchy of the decor, the scrappy bulb flickering every so often. None of the furniture matched in your apartment but to be honest, that was part of the reason you loved it so much. It was chaotic, but it was home.

Your heart spasmed in pain, to the point where your brow furrowed. What the fuck just happened? Rowan seemed to have noticed as well, sending your an inquisitive look, which you instantly brushed off. Nothing to worry about. At least, not yet.

Rowan shrugged, shimmying the pan of baken in his hand before removing three slices and placing them on a plate before you, alongside a freshly washed fork clearly leftover from last night’s takeout they all had that you weren’t invited to because you were at fucking work goddamnit.

“Thanks, Ro’, smells great.” You offered him a small smile, one he returned, before heading over to the far too-small fridge to dig out the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d said you could have. You didn’t mind making pasta for him yesterday. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it. Most of the time, when the rest of your family ate, you were at work so you never got the opportunity to cook for them. That was mostly down to Rowan unless he was working the late shift at his apprenticeship, in which case the two of you would leave together and the other’s had to fend for themselves.

It was often a bombsite when you’d return.

With the first mouthful of crispy, smokey bacon, you quickly decided getting out of bed was worth the aggravation, even more so when you dumped a whole load of maple syrup onto your plate. You don’t think you’d ever met a Canadian in your life, but if and when you did, you might just have to kiss them for even being associated with maple syrup.

Speaking of sweet treats…

“Anyone want one of my special hot chocs? I’m annoyed and up early so my treat for having to deal with me,” you grinned a little wickedly into your milkshake, the room whirling in complete surprise, to the point where you had to hold up your hands in defence. “What did I say?”

“Whaddya mean ‘special hot choc’?” Rowan asked accusingly. “I’ve never taught you how to make hot chocolate before!”

“Yeah, I’m with Ro on this one. Since when did you have a special hot chocolate recipe?” Erin almost pouted, as if you’d deliberately been keeping it from her.

You thought for a moment. They were right, you didn’t always have a hot chocolate recipe. You only learned that from…

Wait, who?

And when you went…

Wait, where?

Maybe you didn’t have a special recipe after all. Were you just remembering things wrong? YOu must be. Where and when would you have picked up a special recipe for Christ’s sake? You haven’t been anywhere with anyone to have done that.

Must have been the exhaustion talking. The lights flickered again.

“Must be going crazy…” you mumbled, accepting the fact that no, you didn’t have a special hot chocolate recipe.

You felt something wither away and die in your chest.

“You really gotta stop all those late nights.” Rowan placed a hand on your shoulder, concern etched in the pinch of his brow. It hadn’t been too long ago you and Rowan had fought, the argument you’d had still echoing in your brain. It was over your mutation, and his since it was so similar yet the complete opposite. He’d berated you for not having gained control of it yet after accidentally plunging a supermarket in a blanket of shadow upon finding out they were out of your favourite bread. It wasn’t your fault, really, but you’d made the whole situation worse when you lost complete control.

Three people were taken to hospital.

Two of them died.

You shook your head. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. You’d managed to repair the relationship between you and your brother, there was no point dwelling on the past.

The idle chatter of the kitchen continued as you fell silent, turning your attention instead to the strange series of dreams you’d been having. Most of you only remembered because Morgana would remind you multiple times a day by bringing it up all the time. But there was one thing you hadn’t told her that had occurred in almost every single dream you had.

One word.

Or an animal you guessed.

Or a bug.

Were bugs animals?

Did the animal kingdom include fish and birds as well as mammals?

Shit, you were getting off-topic. Your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember your train of thought. What the fuck were you just thinking about? Your jaw clenched with the effort of remembering. You swore you were deep within–

Firefly.

The chair clattered behind you as you shot from your seat, eyes round and wide in panic. What the fuck was going on? Where were you? You could barely register the faces of those around you, but you knew you hadn’t seen them all in a long long time. You weren’t supposed to be here. None of this was real. You were back, he’d found you again. Shit! Where was L–

“You okay…?”

The tension left your body as Morgana settled a hand on your shoulder, her auburn brows pinched in worry. Darkness swam at the edges of your vision, before you shook your head slightly, freeing yourself of your daze.

“Yeah… shit, yeah, sorry. Fuck, what is wrong with me today?” Your voice shook slightly as you gave your family a slightly nervous smile, bending to pick the chair back up. Fuck, you really needed to sleep more. Fucking job was going to kill you off. For sure.

A quick flick of your wrist and you saw you had around an hour and a half before you needed to leave. A heavy sigh blew from your lips as you downed the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d so kindly donated to you, before shooting an annoyed look to the bulb as it briefly turned the kitchen into a club dancefloor, before winking out completely.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” Rowan lamented, placing down whatever protein shake he’d opted for the morning and dragging over a barstool to stand on. “I told Naji we needed to get this shit fixed and he told me he’d text the landlord, but this is just–”

None of you were strangers to natural phenomena. You were fucking mutants, for Christ’s sake, your very existence was a natural phenomenon. However, watching a barstool blink out of existence entirely wasn’t exactly on your list of things you’d ever seen. Or even things you would like to see. Rowan was cut off midsentence as he crashed to the floor.

You all stood in utterly stunned silence.

“Y’all saw that too, right?” Erin asked, glancing warily around the room before taking a small step toward Atlas next to the window. Well, that was one suspicion you’d had confirmed then. Tension thickened the air, static apprehension making your saliva sweet and your breath hot. What the fuck was going on?

Rowan stood from the ground, dusting himself off, his gaze tracking warily around the perimeter of the room. Another mutant, perhaps? It wasn’t exactly common in the area, but it wasn’t unheard of. Some poor kid with shitty control over their new mutation discovers their first big act of power was accidentally erasing a barstool out of existence. “Chill out, it’s most likely a power cut or some new electromagnetic mutation. We’re fine.” Rowan attempted to soothe, though his voice was anything but convincing. Especially when a squeaked gasp emitted from next to the window, where Atlas had flipped up the blind to the outside world.

“Does the sun get power cuts too? Or did you just absorb a bunch of light this morning, Ro?” Morgana asked, though her eyes were trained on the pitch black outside the crummy window. You crossed the kitchen alongside Rowan, the five of your leaning out of the window to get a good look at whatever the fuck was going on.

Or rather… not going on.

“What the hell…?” Rowan muttered as you all watched the outside world flicker in and out of existence. One second it would be the neighbourhood you’d come to know so well, the next the sky turned grey and grainy, like an old TV trying to find signal. The flat next door would completely disappear, replaced by walls of steel. Your heart raced, stomach flipping.

“Joseph’s still at work…” You breathed, and Morgana turned to you as if she’d only just realised it too, fear flickering in her dark crimson eyes.

“I’ll text him, let me–” Atlas was cut off swiftly, the floor beneath your feet flickering, before that too completely disappeared, and you were all plummeting to the ground. Wind whipped at your hair as you desperately flung your arms out in search of a shadow.

“ERIN!” Morgana screamed as Erin’s hand extended before her, attempting to search for some kind of plant life. But your flat had become nothing, merely glitches of light around you. A strong arm circled your waist and turned to see Rowan’s golden eyes wide with fear.

“My shadow!” He called, flipping the two of you so you were beneath him. You didn’t think twice, trusting he had a plan before your molecules dissolved into the darkness across his front. You could still hear the rush of wind, Morgana’s cry of pain before the descent started to slow and you could sense various shadows around you growing. The moment your world seemed solid enough, you reformed, your eyes taking a moment to adjust before you registered Altas healing the nasty looking cut on Morgana’s hand, blue glowing particles rising from where his palm encased her hand.

She must have slowed your fall, the steel floor now a pool of blood where she’d borderline drained herself to save the rest of you. Wordlessly, you crossed to where she swayed slightly, placing her arm around your shoulder to act as a support.

“Thanks…” She murmured, closing her eyes to recover from that woozy feeling of using too much of her power. You went to brush off her gratitude, to tell her it was the least you could do after she’d just saved your lives, before part of the wall before you started to close in an inch. With a hiss and a screech, the steel split in two, casting a rectangle of blinding light and causing you all to throw up your hands.

“Guys?”

You all knew that voice, and there was a collective sigh of relief when Joseph stepped through the door. But the voice you knew to be full of jokes and laughter sounded exhausted, beaten. Defeated. Where the fuck had he been?

“Joes? What the fuck is going on?” Rowan called, dimming the light so you could all remove your hand-shaped shields from your eyes. “Where’ve you– Holy shit are you okay?” Rowan ran forward, catching Joes as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

A gasp flew from your lips. He was caked in blood. And not in the way Mogana would be if she somehow lost control. He’d been hurt. Badly. Almost surgically. Various parts of his skin had been removed to leave behind raw, pulsing muscle exposed to the outside. His face had been all but completely disfigured, where his eyes used to be dark and inviting, the whites were now bloodshot and his pupils dilated.

“Move,” Atlas instructed sternly, Rowan shifting slightly to the side before he lay his hands on Joes’ chest in the same way he did for Morgana, those same blue particles rising and winding around Joes like grapevines, dipping into his various wounds and closing them over.

“They’re here to help us,” Joes muttered, his head lolling to look back out the gap in the wall. What the fuck was he talking about? Help you do what? One moment you were all having brunch and you were sipping a milkshake, the next your fucking flat had disappeared and you’d all plummeted fifty feet straight down.

You cast Morgana a confused glance, now recovering quickly, and she sent you one right back. “Who’s here?” You asked, eyes lingering on the fear in Morgo’s before Joes pointed out beyond the darkness and into the light.

Three elongated shadows shrouded the light, but it was the one in the centre who drew your attention. Broad-shouldered, strong-armed, with two little flicks of hair licked up either side of his head. You knew that outline, like a memory forgotten, or a faded dream. With the light behind them, you couldn’t see their faces, but you could see they all wore the same suits. The girl on the right gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she almost fell to her knees.

Morgana tilted her head in confusion, and you shrugged, not taking your eyes from the three shrouded figures.

Though you felt a well of unspecific emotion rise in your chest as the man in the centre spoke, his tone soft, voice deep and gruff.

“Hey, firefly.”

Logan didn’t know what he would say to you when he saw you again. When Jean had told him they’d found a lead, he expected it to be at least another month before anything would actually happen about it. He wasn’t expecting the entire team to have assembled already, suits and all, prepared to head out that night. His chest constricted with impatience when the team were stalking the halls. He knew they all had the element of surprise, but if he was being honest, stealth was never really his strong suit. He just wanted to find you. He just wanted to hold you and apologise as many times as he needed to in order to ease the heavy weight of guilt off his shoulders.

What would he say to you? How much he’d fucking missed you? How sorry he was he couldn’t protect you. How he’d promised he’d keep you safe and then lost you? But the moment those doors opened and he saw you, with Sanguine leaning heavily on your shoulders, all and any words quickly left his mind. You looked tired. That wasn’t to say you didn’t always look tired, but you looked fucking exhausted. Dangerously skinny, as well. The muscles on your arms had all but faded, your cheeks had hollowed, and your neck looked like it could be snapped with a light breeze. Fuck you looked so fragile.

“We’re gonna get you out, okay?” Logan took a step forward, only for you and the rest of the mutants to take a step back. A spear thudded into the centre of his soul as he watched you try to figure out what was going on. But it was the look in your eyes that shattered every fibre of his being.

Unfamiliarity.

You had no idea who he was.

“They don’t remember,” Joes said, rising from the floor once Atlas had taken a step back away from Logan, Scott and Kitty. She’d insisted she came with the rest of the team and said she’d just hide in the walls anyway, so they may as well take her along willingly. Scott begrudgingly agreed.

“We don’t remember what?” Logan’s eyes slid to the man with the golden hair and eyes, who looked remarkably similar to you. Rowan. His eyes narrowed. “Joes what the fuck is going on? What don’t we remember? Who are you fuckers?”

“Rowan!” The man next to him hissed. Judging from his appearance and general attitude, Logan guessed that must have been Atlas, or Harmony. He’d already run into Joseph, and rescued him when Ororo controlled enough lightning to short out their electrical units, plunging the facility into total darkness. All that was left of that practice room was blood and entrails.

Logan had made sure of it.

“None of this is real, Ro’. They’ve been forcing Naji to fuck with our minds, man. Every time one of us goes to ‘work’, they take us out into the real world and fuck with us. You saw the state I was in, man. C’mon!” Joseph pleaded, and Logan could see the cogs turning in your brain as if trying to process what he was saying.

“The fuck are you talking about?” The girl with the bright green hair piped up, boldly stepping towards Joseph and dragging him back towards the rest of the group protectively. “Who’s ‘they’? Whaddya mean fuck with us?”

“Naji wouldn’t do that, Joes.” Your just managed to keep the tremor from your voice, dropping Morgana’s arm from around your shoulders and taking a cautious step towards your brother. What the fuck was going on? You looked between the three newcomers, the girl on the right stepped forward, and your eyes narrowed on her. “Another step and you’re dead.” You hissed, extending your hand behind you to the shadows as if you could do anything but disappear into them. Morgana drew out her knife from her boot and sliced open her palm, blood swirling and morphing until three sharp spears floated above her head.

“Let’s all just take a breath…” Logan murmured in an attempt to soothe the rising tensions in the room. Why he’d thought this would go smoothly, he had no idea and found his present self kicking his past self for making such stupid fucking assumptions. He held out his palms in peace, trying in vain to come across as non-threatening as possible, his eyes trained on you. “It’s okay…” His brows pinched as you looked at him with disdain.

Who the fuck was this guy? Sure he looked and sounded exactly the same as your dream visitor, but you refused to believe they were one of the same. Just some freaky coincidence, and you didn’t even know if his mutation was the same. He hadn’t shown anything yet, and for all you knew, it could be something completely different.

But a hole of doubt had burned through your gut.

“Wait… isn’t that–”

“Shut the fuck up, Morgo.” You hissed before Morgana could even finish her inquiry. You knew exactly what she was about to ask, you’d felt her eyes flicker between you and the man ever since he’d called you firefly.

Total coincidence…

“She has a point though. Naji wouldn’t do that to us. Sure he’s antisocial and spends most of his time in his room, but we’re still his friends. His family. He wouldn’t do that… would he?” Uncertainty laced Erin’s tone as she eyed the three outsiders suspiciously, reaching into her back pocket. You glanced her way, holding your breath. You knew what he had stored away in her cargo pants, not just in her back pocket, but in all of them. Various seeds for every variety of plant you could think of, her favourite being the Venus fly trap because of course that was Erin’s favourite plant.

Logan’s chest spasmed at Erin’s words. He knew he was going to have to take them all to Charles and return their memories to them. Not knowing what would happen to the bonds you’d all made with each other terrified him. What if that just made everything ten times worse? What if you and the others remembered everything and decided to go along with Kreva’s plan? He’d already seen Rowan, Morgana and Joseph working for Kreva…

What would stop them this time?

“This is taking too damn long…” Scott muttered, throwing a glance behind his shoulder to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them. Logan couldn’t help but agree. It was taking far too long. He didn’t want to take any of you by force. That was a last resort, and only if you couldn’t be convinced. If it went against your current wishes, he honestly didn’t give a fuck. You weren’t safe here. You were back where you started, and he’d be fucking damned if he was leaving without you today. Taking the others was a luxury, taking you was the priority.

“Let me talk to them. Please. They don’t know what’s going on. Naji restores our memories before the testing begins, but they’re always erased and replaced when we come back. They don’t know anything, just give them time.” Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joseph. He was the only one out of the group, perhaps other than Naji, who knew what was going on and was stuck between saving his friends and getting the fuck out of there.

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Scott!” It was the first time Kitty had spoken up since seeing you, and to be honest, Logan had almost completely forgotten she was there. She’d been non-verbal, dealing with whatever she was dealing with after seeing you in the state you were in for the first time in two months. Now, however, she seemed to have recovered.

Unlike Logan, who still found it difficult to look at you, yet equally difficult to look away.

“Thank you, man,” Joseph nodded his head in gratitude, before turning back to the rest of the group. “Look, I don’t know how to convince you, but they got a mutant back at this crazy mutant school that can help get your memories back. He’s like, the only one other than Naji who can do it.”

“If this is true,” you began, folding your arms across your chest in a way that had Logan holding his breath, the familiarity nauseating. “Then why don’t we just ask Naji to restore them? He’s our fucking friend, Joes. Why would he do this?” You implored him to see reason. To see that there was no reality where Naji would work against the group, antisocial or not.

“Because they’ve–”

“Now now, Subject Three. Don’t go spoiling all of our secrets now, will you?”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, though the voice meant nothing to you. You didn’t recognise it at all, but you noticed the way the three newcomers all bristled and the way Joes seemed to shrivel in fear. Following ‘Scott’’s gaze, you looked up to see Naji, bruised and beaten, his neck held in a vice grip by some formless, faceless figure with a large gun slung over his back. The mirrored window had been smashed open, blood leaking from Naji’s knuckles as his legs dangled over the side, held out over the shattered glass by the throat.

“Joes…” Rowan growled in instruction, the rest of you already being on the same page. Joes could teleport not only himself but various other people of different numbers depending on size and mass. But the man just stood there, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring in utter terror as Naji gurgled and fought against the hold around his neck.

“Kreva.” You heard the muscular man behind you snarl, and your mind did somersaults as three long, razor-sharp claws slid from his knuckles. There was no point in denying it anymore. It was most definitely the same mutant from your dreams.

“Ah, The Wolverine. How darling to see you again. Here for Subject Eight, I presume? There’s no point. It remembers nothing of your cosy little forest getaway.” Dr Kreva covered his mouth theatrically, gasping as if he’d made a terrible mistake. “Oh no, have I said too much? No matter. Once all you X-men are disposed of, this will be nothing but a bad dream to them. Isn’t that right, Eight?” It took a moment to realise the skinny, crooked-nosed man was addressing you, but how the fuck were you supposed to know that when he wasn’t even calling you by your name. And what the fuck did he mean by ‘cosy forest getaway’? You’d never even left the city.

“The fuck is going on…?” You asked aloud, taking a step back and towards Joes, who was still stuck in frozen, abject horror. “Joes… you gotta get him. He’s gonna fucking kill him!” You hit his arm with enough force to break the man from his terror-stricken paralysis, only for him to blink away from you, shaking his head wildly as if his mind was a wasp’s nest, his nails digging into either side of his temple.

“No no no nono nononononono–” Your mouth fell agape in fear as he fell to his knees, small rivulets of blood leaking down either side of his face as he clawed at the sides of his head.

“Joes?”

“Joes!”

“The hell?”

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you slowly started to realise whatever the fuck was going on, it very much was not good. In fact, it was most likely that all of your lives were on the line. And you knew that right here, right now, you had to make a choice. You all did.

“You got a clear shot, Scott?” Kitty asked, stepping behind Logan slightly. Though he didn’t mind. As long as she was safe and out of the line of whatever fire could come their way, he was more comfortable. Now if only he could get you in a similar way.

“Lined up.”

“Don’t shoot!” Rowan waved his arms frantically as Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses, jumping between the mutant and his friend. “If you shoot Naji’s dead, for sure. Just– just hold on, okay? We can figure this out.” He pleaded, to the amusement of Dr. Kreva from above, his cackling laughter sure to haunt your nightmares for a good long while after.

“Oh, Five… always the peacekeeper. Always the pacifist. It’s a shame you’re such a killing machine, though nothing like your sibling. We should showcase that, Eight. Show them all what you’re capable of…” Kreva placed a thumb and forefinger beneath his chin mockingly, once again making a show of having you all at his mercy. “In fact… One, if you could. Not too much though, just enough to unleash the Phantom.” You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. That was your mutant name… how the fuck did he–

Pain ripped through your mind as you fell to your knees, your hands biting painfully as you caught yourself before you broke your nose on the ground. Though where you should have felt cold steel, you instead heard the groaning of tight leather and a low grunt of impact.

It felt as if you were being unstitched, torn open with a rusty knife. Your head split apart and searched inside as Naji’s mutation invaded your conscience. You heard a scream coming from somewhere but were too focused on trying to stay sane as memory fragments of pure agony were thrust into the inner walls of your mind, scraping down your subconscious. White hot pain laced through your throat and you finally realised it was you screaming, your voice cracking and breaking as you fought Naji’s hold.

Rowan screamed your name as Logan lunged forward to catch your fall, dragging you into his lap and holding your arms by your sides. “We gotta go!” He roared to Scott, who nodded in agreement, barking out orders just as Kurt bamfed into existence. Morgana reached for you as Kurt placed his three-fingered hand on her shoulder, her desperate scream cut short as she was teleported from the room. Logan turned his attention back to you, back to the searing torment etched on your face as you writhed in his arms. “I know baby, I know, it hurts, just hold on.” He called your name soothingly, though his voice shook. Seeing you like this, in such pain, ripped at his self-control. And he loathed how you would have to do this all again when he got you back home.

What Logan didn’t know, was that you’d heard his voice, and held onto it. You wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated so easily. Fighting Naji hurt. It hurt like hell. He was fucking strong, winding a white-hot thread of memories throughout your head, but you thrashed and flailed from his twisting web, using your dream visitor’s voice as an anchor point.

“What’s happening to her?” Logan’s eyes left your face for two seconds to meet with a pair of golden ones he’d only ever seen fighting against him. Rage flared in his gut as he thought of the man who’d assisted in your capture, but this wasn’t the same guy. Sure, he had his body and his face and his powers, but this was a sibling. A brother. He was your brother, and Logan could see that in the way terror pinched his brows and widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, but we need to get her out. Now.” Logan responded, removing a hand from your arm to smooth back your hair as your neck all but snapped backwards, head almost rolling off his lap completely as your entire body contorted violently. It was getting worse.

Rowan nodded, a flicker of determination glittering in his golden eyes, before extending his hand out towards the light. “I can buy you time. Get her safe,” he instructed, and Logan found his rage toward him settling slightly. “I’m R–”

“Rowan. Yeah, I know. She spoke about you a shit ton.” He gave Rowan a half smile as his head tilted in confusion. Logan held out his hand. “Logan.”

Though the bafflement didn’t fade, Rowan shook his hand nonetheless, before getting to his feet, his hand still extended towards the light. “When I say run, run.”

“Thought you were a pacifist?” Logan asked, holding you tight against his chest as he lifted you from the ground, the shadows in the room now quivering in anticipation. Naji was winning. With a glance to both Scott and Kitty, he could see they’d been listening in and were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Not when they threaten my fucking sister,” He spat, the skin along his forearms and neck beginning to glow a bright, blinding white. “Go.” Was all he said, before the room erupted in sunlight, and Logan took off at a sprint, keeping you close to his heart. He had you back physically, your strained breaths and grunted whimpers told him that much.

Now he just needed to get you back mentally. And for that, he needed Charles.

“S’okay, you’re okay, just a little longer baby, I know…” he soothed as he raced round the corner, struggling to hold you still as you fought his hold, the darkness of the corridor lashing out in great, spiked tendrils, slashing at his arms and legs and leaving searing lines of crimson through the leather of his suit. His stomach flipped as he looked down at you, your spine arching back, head snapping, eyes rolling up behind your skull leaving behind nothing but black, hollow darkness. He was losing you. Fuck, he was losing you.

“C’mon on sweetheart, c’mon.” He ground, feet pounding against the floor as one of his shoulders was ripped back, knives of pure shadow tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth against the pain, racing through a set of open doors and launching the two of you towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Your mouth opened as you released a strangled scream, your limbs jerking and flailing in his grasp, Logan almost losing his grip on your writhing body. Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, he pressed on until he could finally see the service door they’d snuck in through. “S’okay, not much farther now. Keep fightin’ him, firefly. You gotta keep fightin’.”

Serrated knives tore through your memories, flashes of pure, unadulterated agony rushing your nerves, setting your veins alight with liquid fear. Thrashing your head back, you attempted to clear your mind’s eye of Naji’s hold, razorwire slicing at the base of your brain. You had very little knowledge of brain anatomy, only knowing the basics, but you knew for certain he was attempted to break through your hippocampus both physically and hypothetically. But you held onto him. Onto the man who, in turn, held you. A kernel of safety shining within the ocean of fiery anguish. You held onto his voice, their meaning.

Shadows swirled around your wrists, encasing your hands in two sets of obsidian claws, raking down both sides of Logan’s arms. You were losing the battle, he knew you were, if Joseph was right and you didn’t remember anything, there was no way you’d have this kind of control over your mutation. Using his already-healed shoulder, he burst through the locked service door and barrelled down the stone tunnel, out into the night-air. He didn’t know what Obscurity’s range was for his mutation, but he had to assume it was limitless. Anything less and he was likely to let his guard down.

Breath burned in his lungs as he sprinted for the jet, hearing the door behind him open and close another two times for both Scott and Kitty. He didn’t know how many of your friends Kurt had managed to rescue, but it didn’t matter to him. You were there, in his arms. And as long as that was his reality, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.

His feet thundered against the metal of the ramp, and ducking into the deck of the Blackbird, he was greeted by an extremely concerned-looking Jean the moment her eyes lay on you.

“Help me…” Logan begged, collapsing to his knees, and the redhead wasted no time in extending her hand towards your rapidly twitching head, veins of pitch black etching their way up your neck towards your temples. Instantly, Jean grimaced, her mouth gaping in some unseen pain as she entered your mind. All Logan could do was sit and watch helplessly as she engaged in some kind of mental battle with Naji. Her brows pinched with effort, the tendons along the backs of her hands flexing and tensing with strain. Logan desperately swiped your sweat-matted hair from your brow as if to clear a better path for Jean’s mutation.

“Jean!” Scott barked, fear echoing around the deck of the jet as he lunged forward towards his girlfriend, only to be held back by Ororo, who looked utterly exhausted. She’d been high above the facility, concentrating on keeping the power down with various surges of lightning. And now she looked completely spent.

Slowly, gradually, your twitching started to cease, each muscle in your body relaxing separately as Jean managed to exorcise your mind of Naji’s manipulation, until you sagged in Logan’s arms, your breathing steady, your eyes closed as if you were just sleeping. Scott broke free of Ororo’s hold, rushing for Jean before she collapsed onto the hard ground. “You okay?” He asked, bracing her face in between his palms. Jean offered him a tired nod, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Got her back.” She murmured, and Logan clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his eyes. He gently manoeuvred your body to lie comfortably in his lap, the back of your head nestled in the crook of his elbow, his arm encasing your waist. You were back.

You were back.

Kitty knelt beside you, a hand grasping your limp, skeletal one, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Logan knew what she was thinking. What she was contemplating. What had they done to you? What fresh horrors would you be battling once they returned your memories? Logan’s thumb slowly caressed your protruding ribs. He’d be there with you. Whatever you had to endure next, whatever fresh hell awaited you when you woke, he’d be right there next to you.

“We gotta go…” Scott muttered urgently to Ororo, who looked out beyond the ramp to the Blackbird, awaiting Kurt’s next arrival.

“We can’t… they’re still in there!” Morgana raised her head from where she’d been sat on one of the seats. “Atlas, Joseph, Naji and Rowan are still–” she was cut off by another puff of blue smoke, Kurt falling to the ground and releasing Rowan’s arm from around his shoulder. Blood leaked from the blonde’s nose, his hands braced against the steel as he caught his breath.

“Is she okay?” Were his first words, barely looking around before his golden eyes rested on your unconscious form and Logan’s protective hold. He could almost smell your brother’s disdain, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pieced together the narrative in front of him. “Logan, right?”

Logan nodded once, returning Rowan’s cold look with one of his own, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to gauge the threat of you being taken from him again. Rowan visually backed off, his expression to exhaustion. “I guess a lot can happen when you don’t see someone for eight years. As long as you take care of her, that’s cool with me.” Rowan shrugged, having recognised just exactly what he was looking at.

As the Blackbird rose from the ground, Morgana clicked the belt across her middle and shakily made her way over to sit next to Rowan, eyes flickering between you and him.

“So… those dreams she had… they were actually memories?” She asked him slowly, and it took a moment for Logan to process all the subtext of the question before he nodded again. Even with your memories replaced, you could never truly forget him. The realisation made his chest swell and his heart ache. He was acutely aware of Rowan listening into the conversation. “Holy shit…” She breathed, tapping your arm lightly. “I hope you’re listening, you lucky bitch. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

So this was the Morgana from the reports. This was the girl he’d read about, not the one who aided in your capture two months ago. What the fuck had Kreva done to you all? How could he get Naji to manipulate you all in such a way? To the point where you’d all help him. Although it was a nice breath of fresh air for even a thread of humour to be woven into the cockpit. “Right, Erin? You’re with me on this, yeah?”

Morgana turned to the green-haired girl who’d curled up against the wall, her hands hugging her knees against her chest. “Erin…?” Morgana asked tentatively, and only then did Erin look up.

“We fucking left them.” She spat, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. “Atlas… Joes, Naji…. We just fucking left them. You got your precious Phantom back and just abandoned the rest of them.” Her hands flexed around her knees, chest tight.

“I’m sorry…” Kurt piped up from where he’d been nursing a small graze on his arm. “I couldn’t… It was carnage in there. I rescued who I could but–”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t fucking good enough. Who said we even needed rescuing anyway? This could all be total bullshit.” She hissed through gritted teeth, and Rowan placed a hand protectively on your shoulder. Logan knew he shouldn’t have bristled the way he did, the man had proven himself loyal, but he couldn’t help the memories of that night flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“Erin, we’re not abandoning them. We’re gonna go get them back, right?” Rowan looked to the rest of Logan’s team, who in turn looked at each other in uncertainty. They had you back. That’s what they came for. But something niggled at Logan’s mind. You wouldn’t stop there. If the tables had been turned and you were saving him, you wouldn’t stop until everyone was safe. He himself included, but that was given.

“No. We’re not abandoning them,” He spoke for his team, five heads snapping towards him, each with their own look of shock. “Ya know she’s just gonna go after them herself, right? And she wouldn’t stop til they’re all safe. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t letting her do that alone.” He finished, and Kitty smiled at him with tearful determination.

“Agreed.” She said, turning to the rest of the team. Ororo nodded and Scott sighed heavily, only swayed when Jean placed a hand on his arm.

“Alright then… guess that’s our next mission.” Scott sighed, irate.

“Thank you. They’re our friends so we really– Joes?” Morgana’s head tilted to the side as suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, Joseph blinked to existence, Rowan’s wrist held firmly in his grasp. Logan’s heart stopped. This wasn’t the same mutant they’d saved from testing during the mission. His eyes were glazed over, subdued hatred burning in his pupils as Rowan turned to his friend.

“Just Five.” He rasped, white foam leaking from his cracked lips.

“Joes? What’s–”

“ROWAN!” Logan roared, lunging across your form to take hold of your brother, only his fingers grazed nothing but thin air. Whatever Naji had done to Joes, it was the same thing he’d done to Morgana that night. And Rowan all too often.

But he was gone. Your brother was gone. And now there was no debate about what you’d do when you woke.

He just hoped, that whatever Charles restored, would be enough to get your brother back too. For your sake.

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