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nexysworld · 7 months

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Summary: He warned you not to run. The consequences of trying to escape were made very clear - but you didn't listen, did you? Now you get to suffer for the choices you made. Alternatively: lots of monsterfucking with true form Sukuna.

Pairing: Sukuna x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, MDNI, Monsterfucking, True Form Sukuna, Two Dicks 4 arms baby, canon typical violence (not to reader), descriptions of death/blood (not reader), dub-con (reader is into it by the end), tongue fucking, oral, Unprotected Sex, reader gets referred to as a pet, no use of y/n.

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

AN: Similar to my Toji fic, this is the first time writing for Sukuna. Hope I did it justice.

“There you are, Little One.”

The deep gravelly voice tickled at your eardrums before the wall behind you crackled and exploded, sending debris shooting past you. Outside light from the city lit up what was left of the now destroyed building, where you sat on the floor stunned. Heartbeat in your throat, you dared to stand, forcing your stiffened body to turn and face him. “I told you, if you tried to run, I’d kill every person in the city.” He smiled lazily, recounting his own words, amused as you stiffened where you stood. He stepped closer, each footfall making the air feel heavier around you, forcing you still. “And yet you ran anyway.” His large hand cupped your cheek before patting it softly, the way one might a puppy on its head. “I can’t imagine you believed you could get away. So I assume you were looking for a display of power.”

‘No. No. Tell him no. He’s wrong.’ Your brain worked the words up, bouncing around your skull desperate for escape before halting and dying in your dry throat. Not so much as a whimper came out.

“And since you want to see my power so badly. I saved the finale of the show for last.”

It only took a second for him to leap from the floor of the building to the ground below, you in tow under his arm. The weightless feeling, you always hated it. Disorienting and nauseating. The world blurred, colors mashing together as wind whistled in your ears.

He tossed you onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. You pushed yourself up, the pavement rough under your palms. Not ready to make eye contact with him again, you scanned side to side. The city was in ruin, smoke and flames curling into each other as they danced around blocking the sky. What wasn’t burning or sparking with torn electrical lines, lay crumbled around. Specks that looked like ants littered the debris, your stomach threatening to come up once it occurred to you the ants were people. Bodies. Everywhere. The familiar feeling of saliva pooled in your mouth, you desperately swallowed it down, face tensing as you willed the feeling back. “You’re missing the most important view, Little One.” He cooed, turning your form to face the opposite direction. “N-no.” The words left you in an airy whisper. Three friends, lined up in front of you, forced to kneel down in a respectful bow. “Yes, actually.” This time he nuzzled into your neck from behind. “Look at them.” “Y-you can’t.” Your eyes squeezed tight, unwilling to look at the scene before you. “I can.” He brought his hand around you, squeezing your face to lift your head, holding you in position. “Open your eyes.” When you didn’t comply, he squeezed harder, a forceful grip that made you feel like your bones would shatter beneath his fingers. “Open your eyes, or I’ll start with their toes. Make you listen to their cries of pain.”

You complied this time, cracking one eye open, then the other. “Now then, who first? You pick.”

“I can’t –” You’d never heard a scream like that before. Sharp, like nails on a chalkboard before it died off into a pathetic sob. To prove his point, your friend’s foot was removed from her body, making her almost fall out of her bowing stance. In a panic you brought your shaky hands up to point at the same girl, not wanting her to suffer. “H-her.”

You could feel the way his smile widened as his cheek was still pressed against yours. You saw two painted fingers wave just slightly in your peripheral, and the boy next to her split open all over, the piece of him collapsing to the ground. You tried to turn your face again, but his grip held firm. “Wh-why?” “You didn’t ask properly, pet.” His words felt like ice in the pit of your chest.

Footless girl, fear-stricken, tried to run for it as she saw the remnants of the boy in the middle. A pathetic sight as she scrambled to her good leg, using a street rail to try and hop, blood trailing behind her. The same flick of his fingers, and her good leg was gone. Determined she continued, desperately clinging to the rail, pulling her torso along. “Yes, yes! Keep going, see how far you get.” Sukuna laughed as he watched the spectacle.

Her breath was so ragged you could hear it even at this distance, shocked that she could move at all with the blood loss. Her movements slowed as she reached the end of the rail. “Looks like you have nowhere else to go.” He mused.

And like that, she was gone too – head disappearing into thin air as if it never existed at all.

“And like that I’m bored.” He said flatly, your final friend combusting into a gush of blood before disintegrating. He didn’t even give the boy a second look. Your knees wobbled, if not for his grip you’d have hit the ground, brain too overstimulated to process. He said something to you, but it didn’t register, your vision blinking in and out before you ragdolled entirely.

*******************

You woke some time later, no real way to gauge how long – head heavy on your neck. Pawing at your sleepy eyes, you looked around not noting anything familiar. It was an older house, tatami flooring with a sliding door that was opened into the backyard. You could hear the thwacking of the bamboo fountain as it filled and emptied itself. Greenery and moonlight encompassed your vision, no sign of the city wreckage you’d been subjected to earlier.

Scanning down at yourself, you had been scrubbed clean. Tattered clothes replaced with a soft bathrobe, hair brushed and smelling of flowers. It felt wrong. Pampered and preened like a prized doll while your friends, no, while all of those people suffered. You wanted to scrunch up and cry, red faced and ugly. Force the world away while you wallowed.

“He wishes to see you now.”

Uraume’s voice made you startle, skin prickling as if it could fling itself right off your skeleton. You hadn’t noticed her presence or when she’d even entered the room. She didn’t give you the opportunity to reply either, yanking you up by the sleeve of the robe – your leash. You had no choice but to follow, using your hands to hold the fabric closed, not wanting to expose yourself to her, or the cold air. She took a hard right down a long hallway, then a sharp left – headed to the mainroom of the home, in the dead center. She finally let go of you in order to slide the double doors open, pushing you forward, and sliding them shut behind you. He sat in the center of the room on top of some colorful blankets. He was too far away and the room too dimly lit for you to see him clearly – but you could tell something was off. “Come here.” He commanded, head resting in his palm.

It was an automated response as you stepped forward, one foot, then another. A puppet on strings, hobbling forward. As his features came into view, you understood now why he looked so off. He looked less like Shuji now, that was for sure. An extra set of muscular arms were folded atop his lap, just beneath the regular ones. All four of his eyes opened, the left ones glowing red, skin distorted around them.

You froze. Just for a second, fear forcing your legs to bring you forward again until you were standing before him. Your hands kept their death grip on your robe, nearly hugging yourself. Sukuna straightened up where he was seated, all four pupils locked onto you. “What’s the matter, Little One? Don’t like my true form?”

You shook your head, not sure if the right answer was the truth or not. Luckily for you, it was. He laughed, amused by your timidness. “Very well. But I think you’ll grow to enjoy it, and all of its offerings soon enough.”

Not a clue what he meant by that, you stayed your position unmoving, staring back at him.

He looked you over one more time, scratching his chin. “Enough of this boring silence. Remove your robe.”

Your face went red at the commend, grip tightening further until the blood left your hands. It took only seconds to decide that the consequences of not listening would outweigh the embarrassed shyness you felt. Slowly, you pulled at the soft fabric – “Too slow.” Wind gusted past you, fabric shredding and hitting the ground, leaving you in nothing but the sleeves. You didn’t need to look down to know you were bare before him, your arms finally opening enough to let the remaining scraplets of fabric slide off of you and onto the floor. It was too reminiscent of your friend, the way he’d hit the ground in pieces.

He reached out one of his bottom arms, grasping at your arm to tug you forward into a sitting position on his lap. Both lower limbs came to rest on your hips, holding you there. His top left hand came up to your face, stroking it gently with the back of his hand. “Beautiful, pet. I haven’t seen a human with such captivating features in a very long time.”

His free hand snaked up your side before kneading at your breast. He pinched at your nipple, tweaking the perky bud, playing with it. The urge to squirm had you attempting to move your hips, still halted by his firm grip, the rest of your body still tense. “Hmm. You’re too stiff.” He let go of your breast, leaning back on his top hands to look at you again. “Relax.” “I can’t.” Your bottom lip wiggled, eyebrows coming together as you looked down at the monster beneath you. You weren’t sure what you wanted more, to cry, or to wail on him after everything. But you knew better than to do either. “You have nothing to fear from me, at least not now.” He added, releasing the grip on one half of your hips, rubbing your lower back tenderly. “Or maybe, it's not just fear.” He pulled you upwards slightly, so you were sitting more onto his stomach as he leaned back. “Regardless, you’ll be pliable soon enough.”

Both his bottom set of limbs smoothed up your sides, kneading at your breasts, thumbs rubbing gently over your nipples. Your toes curled slightly at the sensation, hands reaching forward to brace yourself against his chest. “That’s it.” He cooed. “Feels good, yes?” He replies, continuing to tenderly massage your chest. You nod, bringing your sight to his chest, unwilling to look him in the eyes while in such a compromising position. You were angry with yourself for reacting this way to him. You didn’t want him to garner any satisfaction, show any level or pleasure – and yet all it took was him playing with your sensitive tits to get you squirming.

Involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding against his abs to get some relief from the aching sensation between your legs. The hard muscles were an interesting feeling, the ridge of them bumping your clit with enough force to make you hiss with pleasure. His hands gave your chest one last squeeze before pulling away. Something wet lapped at you between your legs, making you whine before jumping with confusion. “You taste delicious.” Your head tilted to the side with confusion, before one of his hands pointed down. You followed the direction of the digit, another wet sensation against your clit made you jolt slightly before you finally saw the culprit. A mouth on his stomach, sitting squarely between his lower abs. It had no lips, but a large pink and slobbery tongue poked out, tasting at you. You watched as it licked against the entirety of your pussy, flat and slippery. It did it again, like licking ice cream. Confliction of disgust and pleasure melded together in your mind, nipples pebbling as your cunt squeezed together craving something to cling to as the muscle continued to attack your clit. The heady whine that flung from your throat made you feel pathetic, but your legs shook from the pleasure, thighs tensing around his stomach. “Much better, Little One.” He praised, sliding you back to where you were seated directly over the mouth’s opening. “Let yourself enjoy the pleasure.” The tongue stopped its movement, drawing away from your bundle of nerves, making you whimper disappointedly. You realized why it had retracted a moment later when it was prodding at your slippery hole before diving in. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, much longer and thicker than a human tongue, yet not as stiff as a cock. It wormed inside of you, stretching you out gently, the tip easily finding that special spot inside of you. “A-hng!” You whined out feeling yourself cinch around the muscle that continued tasting your insides. His hands took purchase on your sides, grinding you down onto him again while his tongue fucked you. Your own hands grasping at his arms for support while he moved you effortlessly against him. Your breasts bounced with the movements, the tension between your legs threatening to snap at any moment. He could sense it before you. “Good. Good pet, cum for me.” He commanded, the tongue flattening itself inside of you against the spot that had you seeing stars. His hands moved you faster against him. Like a well trained dog, you heeded the command – white hot pleasure exploding from your core before spreading out reaching the ends of your nerves, skin tingling.

Panting, you let go of his arms, falling backwards from the heaviness in your limbs. He caught you easily, sitting up again while he cradled you before placing you down on the bedding in front of him. There was a tent in his pants, the large indentation straining against the fabric. Your eyes stayed glued to it, half lidded as your pussy leaked spit and juices onto the blanket.

By the size of the bulge you could tell he was big. Not surprising given he was barely human. What did make your eyes widen into saucers, was the sight of him undoing his fabric belt, freeing himself. One fat cock sprung free, the tip drooling with beads of precum already, twitching and pulsing with need. It was massive, but human-enough. Below it though, a second one emerged, equally as large and leaky as the one above it.

You stared at them, intimidated, fearful. “Now lets see.” He stroked the top one a few times, more precum pearling at the tip before dripping off onto the bottom one. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to have fun in this form. Should I breed you with both of them at the same time?” His top most eyes narrowed as he watched your response.

Wide eyed and afraid – exactly how he liked you. He laughed, taking the massive cock he was stroking and smacked it against your cheek a few times, leaving a sticking trail of precum. The cooling sensation of it, as it dried in the night air made you shudder.

That word though, breed. The thought made you bristle as if this situation couldn't get any more awful. “N-no. Please don’t. I don’t think I.. I don’t want to be bred.” Where the confidence came to speak in this situation, you’ll never know.

He laughed again. “You don’t think? Little One, your job isn’t to think, not anymore. Not ever again. You do as you're told. Like a good pet. Now, come here.” He motioned for you to come closer.

You didn’t move, looking up at him, a small act of defiance – or at least it was supposed to be. The reality was you were too disgusted and petrified to move. Tears were soaking your cheeks again, plopping against your knees before rolling off onto the blanket.

He raised a brow, curious at your reaction. “Why are you crying?” “Because I–” The words stopped again, choked up in a sob. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, swiping them away. “I can’t do this. Not with you. Not after….please.” “Not after what? If you’re going to accuse, do it with your whole chest girl.” “It’s not an accusation! You killed them! You destroyed the city!” You wailed, grabbing the blanket in your fists.

He dropped his cock to put the hand on his stomach, leaning back into a full deep bellowy laugh, clearly finding your outrage and tears hilarious. He finally calmed down, smile still stretched onto his features. His two upper hands cupped your face, the lower ones moving to drag you forward, closer to him, until your noses nearly touched. “Who made me do that?” He asked, mockingly. “Who knew the consequences of her actions, but chose to be a cowardly little mouse anyway?” “B-but –” “No buts. You ran. They died. It’s all your fault, isn’t it?” He cooed, smoothing your tears away from your eyes. “S-stop it.” “Stop what? Reminding you of your own misfortune? Tch. Can’t even take responsibility for your own ineptitude.” He rubbed his nose against yours, a bunny kiss. “This is exactly why you’re not made to think, Little One. Can’t handle more than a thought rattling around up there before you’re in tears. Pathetic. Cute but pathetic.” Yanking you even closer, he had you reseated on him, just above the two appendages between his legs. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll clear all the thoughts out of that head. You’ll only be able to think of me from now on, no more guilt. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He pat your head, not giving you the chance to reply, leaning down to lock his lips with yours.

It was a rough kiss, messy, but softer than expected. You let out a “mmph!” into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock prod against your hole, still slicked up from the tongue. He let go of the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting you both. His hands gripped you, sliding you down over the shaft, the stretch too much at first. As if sensing your discomfort, his abs parted again, the tongue making its way out to flick against you as you adjusted to where you were seated on him. A new gush of slick pooled out of you as your cunt clenched around him while the tongue worked your sensitive bud. It felt good, incredibly good.

“See? Just give in.” He spoke through grunts, beginning to slide you up and down his length. Each time the head of his cock would press against your inwardly sensitive spot before gliding past to kiss your cervix. The tongue below continued to circle and lick at your clit as best it could, following the motions of his hands. You were weightless to him, no harder to manipulate than a fleshlight.

Legs trembling again, your back arched as much as would allow in this position, tensing like a bow string before that familiar tidal wave of pleasure crashed down on you. This time far more intense than before as the tongue kept lapping, his cock kept drilling. Your vision had white spots scattered about, each aftershock of pleasure made you squeal.

Every now and then, the bottom cock would slap at your ass as he glided you back down. The overstimulation nearly hurt with pleasure, a sensation you didn’t think possible to experience. A particularly hard thrust had you whine out again, this time tongue out like a panting puppy, just trying to catch your breath.

He adjusted your positions, this time so your back was pressed into the blanket, legs folded against you. It made the feeling of being full intense, like he was reaching into your ribcage and popping your lungs with each movement. One hand laid flat onto your stomach, splayed out as the outline of his cock disappeared and reappeared beneath it, before pressing down. The pressure was all it took to make you cum again, toes curling, arms clawing at his back to cope with the sensation. Whatever thoughts, worries, memories had been swirling in your brain were dumped out – replaced only with a comforting black numbness as you squeezed your eyes shut, snippets of Sukuna flashing in every now and then.

A few more quick thrusts on his end had him spilling into you, hot cum warming your belly from within, spilling out of your cunt from the overflow. His movements slowed, keeping a pace that was pleasing enough to ride out his own orgasm, but not too quick to overstimulate himself.

Tired. You were tired now, could fall asleep at any moment. He patted your cheek again to get your attention. Lazily, you turned to look at him, chest still heaving as you caught your breath. “I’m not done yet, on your belly.” The thought of getting to blackout on pleasure again made your sore pussy ache again. You beamed him a dopey smile, giggling, before forcing yourself to roll over. You ignored the tired ache in your limbs, lifting your butt up for him. “What a good pet.” He praised. “Learning so quickly.” Sukuna placed the second cock at your entrance, slipping it in easily. He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your hip when you yelped. “Marked up, just for me.” He added. “My royal lap dog.”

You nodded eagerly as best you could, face squished down into the bedding. “Bark for me.” “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Humiliation didn’t have a spot in your fucked out blank brain.

“Good girl.” He said through a dry laugh, continuing to pound into you from behind. “Do it again.” “Woof! Woof!”

“Like you mean it, brat.”

You scaled up the pitch a little, bringing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “Woof!”

He rewarded your good behavior by leaning back on his legs, using all four hands to grip you firmly, rabbiting into your tight hole from behind at nearly and inhuman speed. Your front remained flopped forward, mouth open, drooling pooling against your cheek as a fourth orgasm was ripped from you. “That’s it. That’s my good pet, taking all I have to give you.” He grunted one last time before you felt the telltale twitch of the second cock told you he was close. It throbbed inside of you again, pumping more of his seed into your spent hole. He smacked your ass lightly. “What do we say?” “Th-thank you.” You replied dumbly, leg muscles twitching as your lower half slid off of his softening cock and down onto the bed. Your eyes were too heavy now to keep open even as you fought the impending feeling of sleep pulling you down. He said something else, but you didn’t catch what it was, slightly jostled awake by the feeling of being moved.

He’d laid you flat onto him, two arms holding you in place while a third gently stroked your hair and back. The warmth of his chest and the heavy heart beating sound were what did you in, finally letting that happy sinking feeling take over. No thoughts of anything, not even your slain friends as you curled up on him, out like a light.

#Ryomen Sukuna #Ryomen Sukuna x Reader #Sukuna #Sukuna x Reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader #Sukuna x You #Sukuna x Y/N #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfiction #Fanfic #Oneshot #x reader #Reader Insert #Sukuna jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader

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calypsocolada · 1 year

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how they kissed you for the first time... ft. tecchou, kunikida, dazai, sigma

cw: none, mostly fluff :)

wc: 2.6k

He’d been watching your reactions as you ate. You stayed pleasant, a soft smile on your face as you tried the food he prepared for you. Vanilla ice cream mixed with mashed potatoes. It was disgusting to say the least. Tecchou had a thing about like colored foods. Apples with hot sauce, carrots and sherbert. It was a whole thing and frankly you found it kind of endearing. He was always excited for you to try new stuff he put together and not everything had been a complete disaster. You swallowed the mashed potatoes and ice cream and forced a smile. It was strange tasting.

“Wow, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” You said, reaching for another bite but Tecchou stops your hand.

“You don’t like it.” He said, gently pulling the bowl away from you.

“What? No, I like it.” You say but Tecchou just smiles warmly, shaking his head.

“I can tell, it’s okay, I'll try harder next time.” You bite your lip, feeling slightly guilty. Tecchou runs a hand through your hair, turning you to face him. Your stomach bottoms out at the touch. He was always very professional with you. You had a crush on him the moment you met him but didn’t think it would ever go anywhere. Tecchou leaned down and to your surprise pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You freeze, unsure this was really happening. When he pulls away you stare at him stunned.

“Tecchou?” You ask as he smiles.

“I’ll make you something else to eat.” He says, kissing you again.

You stamped another one of Kunikida’s reports, depositing it in the correct slot as you stretched. It’d been a long day. Dazai’s assistant had the week off so you were taking care of both boys and while Kunikida looks after you and keeps his reports spotless Dazai was the complete opposite. You had to fix nearly everyone that he wrote today. Which caused you to have to stay two hours later than usual. You pack up your things quietly, the only light in the office coming from the meeting room. You poke your head in there, Kunikida was sat near the white board working diligently.

“Hey I’m heading out.” You say as he looks up, confused slightly.

“I didn’t know you were still here.” He says, setting his pen down to give you his full attention. You sighed slightly.

“Had to fix Dazai’s reports.” He nods his head in understanding before glancing out the window. It was dark out.

“You’re not walking are you?” He asks as you nod your head.

“Too late for the bus, I’ll be okay.” You say but he shakes his head. Closing the folder he was working on.

“I’ll give you a ride.” He says as you shake your head.

“You don’t have to do that sir, really I’ll be alright.” You say but he stands and pays no attention to your protests.

“It’s fine dear, let’s go.” He says softly, grabbing his keys.

“Are you sure?” You ask as he nods his head.

The ride back to your house was comfortably quiet. It was softly raining outside, padding against the windshield as the wipers swiped back and forth. You shiver in your seat slightly as Kunikida noticed you move.

“Cold?” He asks and before you can answer he’s pulling off his jacket to give to you. You thank him and drape the jacket over your body. “I’ll be sure to talk to Dazai tomorrow so that you’re not stuck working later than need be.”

“I don’t mind.” You saw softly as Kunikida pushes his glasses up shaking his head.

“I’ll mind for you.” He says, you look over at him. His endless seriousness. You smile. He was always looking out for you. He pulls into your apartment complex as you gather up your things. He parks and switches off the car. You look at him quizzically. “I’ll walk you up.” He says, grabbing some of your things to carry for you. Walking up to your apartment you shake the rain from your hair.

“Thank you again, I promise next time if I work late I’ll have someone pick me up.”

“No need, it’s easier if I drive you.” He says as you shoot an amused look over your shoulder at him.

“Easier for you? You love the opposite direction.”

“Easier on my mind. To know your home safe.” He says and your heart melts in your chest. You remember the time the agency had been raided, you hadn’t gone in that day for some reason and when Kunikida thought you’d been hurt he about lost his mind. You felt terribly about it but it also made you feel warm. To know he cared so much. You just wished it was more but he was so professional he’d probably never make a move on you. Once at your door you unlock it and Kunikida pushes it open for you. Inside you set your stuff on the table.

“You want a coffee or something?” You ask.

“May I kiss you?” He asks and to be honest you didn’t even comprehend his question before mindlessly answering.

“Sure.” Because for some reason you thought he answered your question about coffee. A simple misunderstanding. Kunikida’s hand softly slides against your cheek as he pulls you into him and presses a kiss to your lips. You jolt, caught off guard as he pulls back. For a split second you two look at each other before you flushed violently.

“You just kissed me.” You say dumbfoundedly.

“I’m aware.” He says. “Was it okay?”

“Uhm, yea. Do you like me?” You ask, thoroughly confused. He looks at you like you were the crazy one.

“Very much, it’s affecting my focus.” He says. You stare at him as your mind processes the moment. Him kissing you, him affirming his feelings for you. You needed a longer kiss. You gently grabbed the front of his shirt.

“Kiss me like you mean it this time.” You say as though resting some hypothesis. Kunikida raises his brows. He reaches and takes off his glasses before turning back to you. He gently grasps your hip, pulling you into him, other hand sliding against your cheek. His lips meet yours and it seems your words awoke something in him because he kisses you hard this time.

Infuriating man. You were gone for a week on vacation and came back to your desk a mess. It seems Dazai took the liberty of making various origami animals out of your important documents. You practically growl in anger, pushing out of your chair. You stomp towards Kunikida’s assistant.

“Where’s Dazai?”

“He’s working a case but he should be back soon, is something the matter?” She asks as you grind your teeth together.

“Aside from working under a child, no, nothings the matter.” You growl spinning around as the other assistant giggles behind you.

You take care unraveling the documents and straightening them back out. Fifteen minutes pass before the front door opens and the man of the hour strolls inside. His eyes find yours and his entire face lights up.

“Darling! You’re finally back!” He says excitedly. You pointedly turn away from him, back to your desk. You hear him walk over. “Something the matter?”

“Yes! You!” You snap in a hushed whisper. “These documents are important and you made stupid cranes out of them.”

“Oh dear, relax. Here,” he reaches for something on his desk and hands it to you. You snatch it from him. “I made copies.” He says as you look through the perfectly straight papers. You sigh heavily and crumple up the other papers, tossing it at him.

“I had a great vacation and you’re ruining my first day back.” You say, turning away from him again.

“Geez, I made all those for you and you toss them away, be still my heart.” He croons.

“Be still your lips.” You retort. “I need quiet to go over your reports.”

“Let’s go get some coffee.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” You ask sharply as Dazai leans against your desk. Clearly craving your attention, he always craved your attention. Like some touch starved animal with no self control.

“I heard,” he says, cocking his head to look down at you. “But I want coffee and I need them to write the reports.”

“You haven’t even written them yet?” You jolt, turning to look at him. He pushes off your desk and dawdles towards the door. “Dazai? Please tell me you’re joking.” You call after him as he slips out into the hallway. You shove away from your desk and practically run after him.

He’s halfway down the hallway when you get to him. “You are going to be the death of me!” You call after him.

“Isn’t that my line, darling?” He says over his shoulder as you sigh.

“Kunikida is gonna yell at you for turning in your reports late.”

“Kunikida is too busy making goo goo eyes at his assistant to notice, it’s been like that the whole week.” He says as you fall into step with him. Mouthing ‘goo goo eyes’ in confusion.

“Too busy with her, how?” You ask as he looks down at you, raising a brow.

“You girls don’t talk?”

“She’s always leaving on time while you keep me here hours late, we don’t have much time to talk.” You sigh.

“At least I give you free rides when I keep you late.”

“You’re a terrible driver. I’d probably be safer walking.” You sigh as Dazai laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his body. He’s warm and smells like he’s already had a cup of coffee or two.

“I missed this.” He says as you let him hold you. You two had a very complicated relationship. It was like you were an old married couple. You spent most of your days together either gossiping or bickering there was no inbetween. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him.

“I’m serious about those reports, Dazai, I have something I’m doing after work.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“None of your business.” You snipe, pushing him off you. He chuckles, pushing his hands in his pockets.

“It’s a date isn’t it?” He asks as you snap your head towards him.

“Who told you?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No one, dearest. You’re dressed up more than usual, not to mention your hair and make up are done differently which means you’re probably leaving from here to go to the date, am I right?” He asks with a shit eating grin. Of course he was right. He was always right. You swallow, sighing.

“Yes, okay I have a date.” You say as Dazai turns to look at you, he looks at you for a long moment. You huff. “What? Got some jokes? Out with them so we can get your coffee and get these reports done.”

“Do you like this guy?”

“It’s a blind date.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?”

“So you haven’t met him?“

“Not in person, we’ve texted.” You answer as Dazai stops walking. You turn to look at him as you stop walking as well. “What?”

“Do you like him?” He asks again.

“I don’t know yet.” You answer, motioning him to walk.

“Who set this up?”

“A friend.”

“A trusted friend?”

“Okay, why the twenty questions? Are you trying to be an ass?”

“Just curious.” He answers simply as you sigh heavily.

“Can you be curious and also walk?” You ask as Dazai chuckles, walking forwards and before you can react he’s pushing you against the wall and pressing his lips to yours with an urgent need. You gasp and his mouth swallows the sound. You should push him off but something warm is building in your stomach and you realize a little too quickly how much you want this. And when that realization dawns you push him back.

“What the hell?” You ask breathlessly. Dazai still has his hands on you, his mouth centimeters away from yours.

“You’re gone for a week,” he starts, voice thick with want and desire. “You answer none of my calls, you come back and suddenly you’re going on a date? With someone you don’t know. Someone that doesn’t know you?”

“Dazai-” he’s kissing you again, plucking your words right from your lips. He pulls back only for air moments later. “What is going on?”

“Don’t be mad but I have to tell you something.” He says as you pull back, able to see his face. “The reports are done already. I just wanted an excuse to get you out here so I could kiss you.”

“I hate you.” You say but the butterflies in your stomach tell a different story.

There was a man that sat in the corner of your cafe. He was very distinguished, sipped his tea quietly and read various books. It's been a few weeks since he’d been coming so one night you decided if he was going to be a regular you might as well introduce yourself. So grabbing some new pastries you cooked earlier in the day you walked over. The man slowly looked up at you and you gave him a kind smile.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your reading, I just wanted to give you some free baked goods, I hope you like apple fritters.” You say, setting the plate down on his table.

“Wow, uh, thank you that’s very kind.” He says, his voice soft as he sets his book down. “I’m Sigma, just moved here a month or so ago.” He says, reaching for the plate. You tell him your name and his cheeks pinken as you welcome him to the neighborhood. You two end up talking for a while, Sigma offering the set across from him for you to sit in. For the next few weeks Sigma stops by, you make him new pastries to try and you two end up talking for hours. One night you were closing up when you heard a soft knock on the front door, you turned and saw Sigma, drenched from the rain outside the front door. You gasped and ran over, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” Sigma asks as you shake your head.

“Course not! Did you forget something?” You ask and watch him nervously fumble with his fingers.

“Uh- yeah.” He says, running a hand through his wet hair.

“Yeah?” You ask, turning to the table he was sitting at but there was nothing near it. “What was it?” You ask over your shoulder and when Sigma didn’t answer you turned around. He looked so nervous, his cheeks turning red you wondered if he was sick or something. “You okay?” You ask, stepping towards him.

“Y-yeah, i’m fine.” He stutters nervously.

“Here, take a seat, I’ll fix you up a hot cup of coffee.” You say and he just nods his head, taking a seat. You walk into the kitchen, worried that maybe he was sick, maybe from the rain. You finish the coffee and walk it over to him, sliding it to him as you sit next to him.

“Thank you.” He says softly, blowing on the coffee before taking a small sip.

“Are you sure you're feeling okay?” You ask, crossing your legs.

“Uh- yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He says, swallowing. He clears his throat, turning to face you. “I want to uh- to um to tell you that I- uh,” He chatters nervously as you listen, not interrupting him. “Uh- god this is-- hard.” He sighs, taking a big sip of his coffee. You give him an encouraging smile. He sets the cup down and seems sure of himself as he turns and just leans forwards kissing you quickly. You gasp, the kiss was mere milliseconds before he’s pulling back.

“I’m sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for weeks but I don’t really know what or how to do it and-” You cut him off by kissing him, showing him how it’s done. You take his face and pull him closer to you, his cheeks were cold, his hair wet as you ran a ahdn through it. His hands cautiously reach for you, softly pressing against your hip. You smile into the kiss and grab his hand, pulling it around your back to let him pull you even closer. When you two break for air he looks redder than before, even the tops of his ears were red. It makes you laugh. "What?" He asks as you shake your head.

"You're just cute, you know?" You ask and he gasps slightly, smiling softly.

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anniesannex · 10 months

Text

Thanksgiving headcanons

This is just going to be short and sweet and to the point. I personally don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. I do celebrate being thankful for my found family and all the bomb side dishes. -A

Johnny doesn’t really celebrate with his family. When he was married he used to go to his Ex-wife’s family thanksgiving.

When you two started dating he worried about how Thanksgiving was gonna go down.

“Johnny we’re not going to go see my family.” “Okay, then what do you wanna do?”

You guys wind up doing something just the two of you.

Instead of turkey and mashed potatoes, you guys ordered Chinese takeout and watched movies together in your pajamas.

“This is way better than any thanksgiving I’ve been to.” “Yeah because I’m here.”

You guys did wind up taking the “walk” that happens every thanksgiving tho.

“Hey Johnny wanna go for a ‘walk?’ I’m about to go.” “I’ll grab our coats.”

After coming back you guys dive into the cake you bought.

“Holy shit this is the best cake ever.” “I told you tiramisu was the move!”

After devouring that cake the two of you end back up on the couch cuddling under the blankets.

As you put another movie on of your choice, you smile.

Johnny goes to make some more popcorn as you wait for him to come back after deciding on a movie.

“Let’s go Carlton! This is a good movie!” “I’m coming!” “I still cannot believe you haven’t seen _____! It’s literally a classic!”

Let’s just say Johnny loved the movie you showed him.

As the movies went on you began to focus more on each other.

If you know what I mean.

“Your eyes sparkle so hard doll.” “Johnny! I’m blushing!”

You were indeed blushing so hard.

This continues for HOURS. You guys watch movie after movie. It’s honestly pretty sick.

As it gets later you seem to have trouble keeping your eyes open.

Johnny notices so much.

“Getting tired Angel?” “Mmm”

As you start to get tired Johnny winds up carrying you to bed. As you thank him profusely.

“Seriously johnny, this is the best thanksgiving I’ve ever had. I really appreciate this.” “It’s no problem doll. I liked this too.”

He tucked you in after making sure you did your nightly routine.

“Teeth? Check. Skincare? Check. Hair? Check. Etc.”

You look so cute to him just snuggled under the covers of his bed. He snaps a photo.

“Thank you again Johnny.” “Thank you doll.”

He holds you as you drift off to sleep. Following shortly behind you.

You two are just at peace as you hold each other in your slumber.

#johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat #johnny cage #johnny cage smut #mk1 2023 #thanksgiving #headcanon

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blues824 · 9 months

Note

hi blue! a little late to the requests lol but your event seems so cute, i had to make sure i stopped by to drop a request lolol

could i request lilia with the dancing to christmas music prompt? he seems like a very fun dance partner so :3 take your time as always! and thank you!

You requested: Dancing to Christmas Music + Christmas Dinner

Decided to compile these two together for obvious reasons lol

Lilia Vanrouge

You had invited the Diasomnia crew for Christmas dinner at Ramshackle before they left for Briar Valley. Grim was helping you cook the food, and he was actually helping because he was able to keep the food warm as you made more and more things. Mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, and you even prepared ham and chicken. You were not going to attempt a turkey this last-minute.

Anyway, you then started to decorate, when you heard the doorbell ring. You were thinking that it was Ace, and that he got kicked out of Heartslabyul… again… but it turned out to be Lilia Vanrouge… your crush. If you were being honest, you didn’t know what you saw in him, but maybe you were into older guys??

He had a bowl of something, and he told you that he wanted to help you make the food. The thought alone, even though you liked him, made you want to throw up. You took the bowl, and immediately the smell was overwhelming.

“Sorry, Lilia, but all the food is ready! I do need some help decorating, if you could help with that?”

“How disappointing, Prefect. But alright!”

Now that his objective was diverted, you both started putting up the many different holiday-themed decorations that were in the attic of the dormitory. You grabbed a speaker on the way down, and you hooked your phone to it and started playing some Christmas music, humming along to the tune.

As you dusted off the fairy lights that miraculously still worked, you heard Lilia singing. He started getting closer and closer, and you looked up to see him right in front of you, reaching out a hand towards you.

“Would you join me in a dance?” Your face and chest both felt warm, and your heart was pounding.

“I-I don’t know how to dance-” He was not going to take any excuses, much to your dismay, and he just smiled.

“I can teach you.”

And with that, he leaned down to grab your hand and pull you into him.

“Place your right hand on my shoulder, and I’ll place my left hand on your waist.” You followed his instructions, and the hand he was originally holding stayed in his grasp. Your faces were rather close, and the warm feeling that was inside you grew hotter than hellfire.

The song Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow started to play, and it was a bit more jazzy. However, you both started spinning around the living room area anyway. The area seemed to almost transform, and it was just the two of you with the music. He let go, and he lifted your arm above you to spin you alone, and he pulled you back to him.

Your romantic dance ended in him dipping you, not even struggling a tiny bit because of the strength granted to him as a fae. Your faces were closer than ever before, and your lips were brushing against each other, your eyes were closing…

Then the doorbell rang.

“PREFECT, LET ME IN. IT’S FREEZING OUT HERE AND RIDDLE KICKED ME OUT AGAIN!”

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #lilia #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge x reader

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shitsndgiggs · 29 days

Note

Hiii!!! How about reader who’s very scared of dentists and she has a dentist appointment and is super scared and nervous the whole week, maybe with Fermin? I think I remember you said you wanted too write for him but if not then perhaps Cubarsi or arda?🥰🥰🥰

FEAR OF DENTISTS - FERMÍN LÓPEZ

Fermín helping you with your fear of dentists

Fermín López x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The anticipation of having my wisdom teeth removed was almost unbearable. The thought of the procedure—the extraction, the numbness, the discomfort—filled me with a growing sense of dread.

I’d spent the week in a state of anxiety, imagining every possible scenario and worrying about how I would handle the pain and recovery.

Fermín noticed my increasing anxiety, though I tried to keep it to myself. It was a Sunday afternoon, and we were curled up on the couch together.

I had been unusually quiet, my mind racing as I stared blankly at the TV. Fermín turned to me, his eyes full of concern.

“You’ve been really on edge lately,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “What’s going on?”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but the fear was overwhelming. “It’s… it’s my dentist appointment tomorrow. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so scared.”

Fermín’s eyes softened with understanding. “I get it. I had my wisdom teeth removed a few years ago, so I know how you’re feeling.”

I looked at him, surprised. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was definitely not fun, but I got through it. And you will, too. Do you want me to tell you what to expect?”

I nodded, hoping his experience might help ease some of my fears.

“Well,” he began, his tone soothing and reassuring, “the process itself is usually pretty quick. They’ll numb the area, so you won’t feel anything during the extraction. You might hear some sounds, but that’s normal. Once it’s done, you’ll be in a bit of discomfort, but they’ll give you medication to help with the pain.”

His words were calming, but I still felt a flutter of anxiety. “And what about the recovery? How long did it take you to feel better?”

“It took a few days,” Fermín said, his voice gentle.

“The first day or two can be the most uncomfortable, but after that, it gets better pretty quickly. I remember eating soft foods, like mashed potatoes and yogurt, and keeping ice packs on my cheeks to help with the swelling.”

I took a deep breath, feeling a bit reassured by his description. “That doesn’t sound too bad, I guess. It helps to know that it’s something you’ve been through and survived.”

Fermín smiled warmly, squeezing my hand gently. “Absolutely. And I’ll be here with you through it all. I’ll help you with whatever you need—whether it’s picking up soft foods, changing ice packs, or just being there to distract you with bad movies.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

The next morning, Fermín drove me to the dentist’s office, his presence a steady comfort. He kept up a light conversation. His easy demeanor helped keep my mind off the impending procedure.

When they finally called my name, he gave me a reassuring smile and a gentle hug. “You’ve got this. Remember, it’s just a short procedure, and then we’ll be on the other side of it. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

I nodded, feeling a bit more at ease as I walked into the room. The procedure itself was quick and uneventful, just as he had described.

When I woke up in the recovery room, I found him waiting with a concerned yet supportive smile.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked softly, helping me settle into the car.

“A little groggy, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” I replied, leaning against him for support.

He helped me get settled at home, providing everything I needed—soft foods, ice packs, and the occasional funny movie to keep me entertained.

As the days went by, his care and companionship made the recovery process much easier.

#football imagine #football x reader #fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez

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darklcy · 11 months

Text

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

‣ requsted by @ipromiseimnotthirsty : hello! if your requests are open, would you write robin x reader smut where reader has been teasing robin all day until she snaps? maybe they’ve been in public/with other people/in class all day and then they get home? thank you!!

‣ robin buckley x f! reader | stranger things mastelist | 1.5k words | 18+ MDNI, heavy petting, skin on skin, sexual tension, swearing, reader has boobas, college au, no use of y/n, fingering, make out sesh

‣ this is actually one of the first times i've ever written smut so i hope i did you justice adfafawe sorry this one took so long! enjoy my luvs

Something must’ve been in the air today, she thinks.

Surely that’s why her skin flared red, insides grinding like an engine, knee bouncing beneath her desk anxiously while trying to find a rhythm with the pencil in her grip. Professor Smith’s lecture faded quiet, the woman pointing to an assignment on the board that was to be finished come Monday morning. Robin slouched further into her chair.

…A shoe trails the inside of her calf.

Her eyes close while her lips tighten. Nudging it away, she ignores the playful scoff behind her.

Quit it.

The shoe lightly pokes her back, the tip of a canvas converse tapping into her corduroy pants. Smith and the chalkboard mesh together in a blur, a sweaty induced blur with Robin’s only focus being the damn girl behind her. The same damn girl who’s been riling up her nerves the whole class period.

The tip of a finger twirls around a strand of Robin’s bob, a phantom sensation of pulling on her scalp before the tension releases. Something’s gotta be in the air today.

—

The lunch line was annoyingly long today. Her weight shifts from feet to feet as her shoulder leans against the wall, awaiting her turn to enter the school cafe and order some overpriced food the campus provides. Not her usual choice, but waking up late damned her to forget packing a sack lunch. A student with a plastic tray walks by. Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Her nose twitches.

A sharp pinch to her side jolts her awake.

“Hey.”

Of course it’s you. Robin’s hand flies to her chest.

“My god, you scared me.”

“Good, I was trying to.”

Do you even know what you’re doing or is it just a state of oblivion?

“What’s for lunch today?”

“Uhh, steak and mashed potatoes.”

She watches you contemplate.

“Hm. I’ll save you a spot.”

Your hand caresses her shoulder, but as you depart, trails down her arm before releasing at her wrist. Goosebumps stem up from her fingertips, unable to do anything else except watch you prance away to an empty table, joining a couple other classmates, and sure enough, placing your bag to the seat right next to yours.

You smile in greeting like it was just a regular day. It was almost mocking her. Her freckles could feel the heat underneath her pores.

Someone taps her shoulder. “Can you move up.”

Shit.

— Last period of the day. Thank god.

She’d just about had it with you and your damn mannerisms. It’s never riled her up like this before, but surely there’s something in the air, with how much she wants to just-

“Wanna hangout today?”

You two hangout every day, yet you still ask. She hops in your passenger seat and leans her cheek against her palm, strategically moving her knees a bit away from you. Your hand still finds its way to her knee.

You commuted to class everyday, seeing how you only lived a couple blocks down the road. Robin doesn’t complain, her roommate wasn’t really her favorite person to hangout with anyways. Most days it was just awkward silence and greetings.

“You won’t believe what happened in chem. Jason Carver messed up on the lab, and made a huge mess. His face was so fucking funny, he kept whining about how his sweater was ruined.”

You shake your head with laughter. Robin doesn’t react.

“Rob? You listening? I just said Jason Carver made an ass of himself and you’re like not responding.”

She raises her head when you squeeze her knee twice.

“Oh, yeah. No, that’s funny.”

You scoff. “I love your enthusiasm.”

Robin’s tongue rolls the inside of her mouth, her face returning to its rest against her palm.

The familiar neighborhood streets fade in, your car slowing to a park, when Robin finally breaks. Her hands pull you into her immediately, her torso leaning over the gear shift to reach you better. She feels you smile against her, your hands gripping her hair and tugging gently.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day.”

Robin groans into your mouth while taking a swoop of air, only to dive back into you again.

“I was trying to.”

She wants to ruin you. She wants to take you here and now. She wants you to shut the fuck up.

Your lips taste so sweet. The gasps and whines she drives out of you she immediately drinks in. She’s so lost in you that the roll of your bodies hitting the horn startle you both apart with a jolt.

“Shit!”

Robin swears as you burst out laughing. She glares down at you, but surrenders at your expression, your face squinting with giggles and smiles. She adores you. With a sigh, she bends down to steal another kiss.

“Let’s go inside.”

You hum. “Good idea.”

—-

Robin starts immediately where you left off. The second you two enter your room, she grabs hold of you again, not wasting any time to place her mouth on yours. She feels you hold onto her waist, gently rubbing your fingers against her sides. Robin bites your lip when you pinch her.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

The back of your knees buckle against your bed, allowing Robin to fully settle herself on top.

“Nope,”

She hates how you pop the ‘p.’

This way is much better, she finds. No damn gear shift or car horn to drive you apart now. This way she can feel you entirely, your warmth, your breath, your soft skin. Her knee glides up to rest between your legs, smiling when you stutter, your fingers desperately grabbing onto her. Robin rubs herself up and down, her weight and position making you two hungry for more, kisses growing deeper and deeper. Who needs to breathe air when she could just live here, in your body, in your affection?

She feels her shirt rise with her movements, to which she momentarily pauses to sit up and rid herself of the damn thing. You take this chance to follow her, exposing more of yourself to her and quickly meeting her lips again. Your fingers trail up and down her shoulder blades, her spine, her nape. Your nails become your new eyes, wanting to memorize every single freckle and pore of Robin’s skin down to the minute detail. Robin was so beautiful. Her freckles were probably your favorite thing about her. If you could, you’d kiss every single one. You started with her collarbones, then her shoulders, your teeth gently biting her in between.

Robin’s arms encased around your shoulders, starting to mess with the back of your wired bra before snapping it off. She moved lower to embrace your breasts with her tongue, each lick and kiss quickening your breaths. With a pop, Robin moves to the other, her tongue swirling around the bud before wrapping her mouth around it entirely.

“You know..”

Robin peers up at you through her eyelashes, her lips still working on your left breast.

“If I’d known messing with you would get you like this… I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”

You gasp when her teeth bites your nipple.

“Shut up.”

Robin’s tongue licks into your mouth greedily, shutting you up in the best way. You find the latch hooking her bra together and eagerly rip it off, your fingers grabbing at her while her mouth occupies itself with yours. Robin leans on her right elbow while her left hand redirects yours to the hem of her jeans, letting out a hum when they dip inside and find where she needs you most.

She’s so warm and slick with heat, you find no trouble slipping in a finger inside, curling rhythmically and slowly. Robin moans against you, breaking apart from you to your neck, letting herself rest there while you get her ready. It’s not long before you slip in another finger, even allowing her to grind down against you to rid some of the ache.

She practically whines when your fingers leave her.

“Take this thing off.”

She obeys instantly. Her jeans fall heavy to the floor and you’re back at it, her heat missing the two seconds you weren’t inside her.

Her moans and whines could sustain you forever. It feels so good to make her feel good, you could probably reach your limit right here and now just drunk off her pleasure. Three fingers in now, pumping in and out, in and out. She’s close, you can feel it. It’s almost amusing how her cool exterior dumbs down to whimpers the moment someone touches her.

“I’m getting, I’m,”

You leave a lingering kiss on her cheek, while Robin’s eyes clenched shut, her walls closing down on your fingers as she lets go. Her moans are euphoric and beautiful, and being this close you can feel them all around you, surrounding your five senses, and you find yourself starting to moan with her, too.

Her body collapses onto you, her sweaty cheek meeting the crook of your neck while your slick covered fingers come up to your lips to be licked clean. Robin can hear you hum at the sensation, annoyingly popping your fingers like a cartoon character after finishing a gourmet meal.

“You taste so sweet, Rob.”

You can’t hold back your grin as she groans into your skin.

“God, shut up.”

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley smut #robin buckley x reader smut #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #x reader #smut #x reader smut #stranger things x reader smut #request #robin buckley x you smut #robin buckley x y/n

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fanaticsnail · 5 months

Text

Daughter of the Sea: Chapter 4

Masterlist Here, Header Masterlist Here

Word Count: 6,500+

Synopsis: After tucking your niece into bed after dinner, the two of you finally give in to your lengthy longing and spend the night in the arms of one another. A revelation once morning arrives has the blissful world you have created with one another come crashing down around you. (Smut in this chapter, MDNI, 18+).

Themes: Unrequited requited love, slow burn, long fic, long distance relationship, friends to lovers, found family dynamics, love over time, (smut, mdni 18+, NSFW - chapters will be marked accordingly), love-making, angst, hurt, gendered terms used, swearing, adult language.

Notes: Benn Beckman x f!reader, platonic!Mihawk x f!reader, platonic!Shanks x f!reader, slight mention of MiShanks ship, Beginning: Shanks is 19, Mihawk is 23, Beckman is 30, f!reader is 22, Uta is 2 months old for the sake of the plot (canonically she's 2 years old). The f!reader is suggested to be native to Kuraigana with her mannerisms and language.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @indydonuts

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Sifting through Uta's clothes and organizing her room was done hastily; placing her new clothes on hangers and setting up her small vanity. She hummed a tune, enjoying her reflection in the mirror as you worked away at neatening her treasures.

After some time, you turned to see her twirling in place with her new skirts frilling around her in a perfect circle. You were glad her childhood has been happy, especially considering the hardships of your own. Truly glad to spoil her in all the ways you had never been, you stood tall and beckoned her over with a soft wave of your hands.

“Ready for dinner, gorgeous girl?” You asked her, her hand reaching out to collect yours within, “Want to go somewhere that's just us, or do you want to see your crew for a meal?” You placed the velveteen, well-loved hawk plush on her pillow and fixed up her bedsheets.

“Can we go back to the bar place?” she smiled at you, looking down at her bed before placing her hand in yours, “And maybe have a table for just me and you?”

“Of course, sweety,” you reassure her, “Just me and you.”

As you made your way off the Red-Force, you noticed Benn Beckman standing on the deck of the bar, leaning over the side rails and looking to the ocean where you arrived from. He looked at peace, his signature frown missing from his face and a cigarette tucked between his index and middle finger. Dressed in a fine dark button-up shirt, his hair combed back, and his face clean shaven, Beckman had never looked so refined before.

Beside him was Lucky Roux, gnawing at a whole leg of lamb while joking with him. Roux’s wide, toothy grin grew when Uta suddenly tugged at your hand to pull you inside the bar.

“Roux,” you nodded your greeting, Uta tugged you in firmer, “Beckman.” Your eyes met, his silvery orbs mesmerized with the immediate contact. His lips parted, his mouth moving as if to speak, only to immediately shut as Uta thrust you within the doors of the bar.

Both of you were dressed in fine clothes, Uta's new skirts sparkling as she moved towards Shanks and Limejuice who sat alone and laughing together. As she began to demonstrate her new fine-wear to the men, you walked over to the bar and began perusing the menu.

“Need help deciding what to get, love?” a woman's voice prompted you to look up. Her hair was a vibrant green, tucked away from her face by a triangular bandana, “I'm Makino, owner of the bar.” Giving her your name in response, you nodded your greeting to her.

“I’ll take two glasses of water for now, please,” you asked, turning over the menu in your hands to gauge an appropriate meal for your niece, “Uta will likely have some chicken, mashed potatoes and I would love to see her eat some type of green vegetable.”

“We’ve got peas or string beans, do you have a preference?” she readied two glasses with ice and began filling them with water.

“I think the beans would be appropriate,” you shrugged, placing down the menu and sliding it over to her. She exchanged the waters for your Berry, handing them down with an inquisitive smile. You cock your head to the side to read her expression more clearly, your evidence collection being halted when she disclosed her curiosity.

“We don't normally see women dressed in all that finery here. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life,” she admitted to you, prompting you to laugh a little in response. A soft rouge drew up her cheeks, mentally slapping herself.

“Thank you for your compliment, Makino. I truly appreciate it,” you teetered off your laughter, reaching forward to give her hand a soft squeeze, “I'm from Kuraigana. This is the similar style worn by our locals there.”

“Kuraigana? Is that on the Grand Line?” she asked, her curiosity growing as she readied Uta's meal for her. You nodded emphatically, beginning to talk about the land you had been living in under the rule of Dracule Mihawk.

As you both dove deeper into conversation, Benn Beckman and Lucky Roux reentered the bar. The first-mate was in a trance, his gaze locked onto you as your actions moved slower in his mind than what occurred in reality.

The soft bounce of your hair when you laughed, the passion in your eyes as you spoke to Makino, and your grand smile. The smile that haunted him from the moment he first saw you. His heart soared ever higher when Uta joined you at your side, you immediately stooping to aid her up onto the barstool to consume her meal.

He was so desperately in love with you.

Now that he knew you used both his name and love in the same sentence, he needed to make his move. Although he wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and begin wooing you l like his other conquests, he physically couldn't do it. His northern star pointed him to you, calling him home to rest in your arms, but he was still unsure of where to start. He wanted to make you feel special, set aside from the rest, and most importantly: loved.

As Uta finished her meals, dipping her green beans into her mashed potato and using it as a spoon, you continued sipping at your water and praising her for eating her meal. Giving you a wide, toothy grin, Uta jumps up into your lap and starts eagerly discussing her plans for her future. Her dreams of being a singer, her travels to Kuraigana to see you and her Uncle Hawk, and how she wants to have her captain achieve his goals.

Just at the mention of his name, Shanks hovered over the bar, ordering another drink beside you. He pauses, leaning forward and giving you a soft peck on your cheek before leaning down to press his lips on the crown of Uta’s head.

“Thank you for coming to see us while we were docked here,” Shanks whispered to you, collecting his drink from the bar, “Means a lot to all of us here, especially Uta.” He smiled down at his adoptive daughter, extending his arm out to her, “It’s time for you to get to bed, little miss. Want Yassop to take you?”

“I think we both know who Uta wants to take her,” a burly voice rumbled from ahead. Beckman stepped into the bar, his lopsided smile looking first down at Uta before raking his eyes up to meet yours. You return his smile briefly before looking down at your niece.

“Shall I tuck you in, gorgeous girl?” you offered, her overenthusiastic smile immediately rising up her face. She all but sprung out of your lap, gathering your hand and dragging you onto your feet. Before you took a step towards the door, Uta’s unoccupied hand reached up and gathered Beckmans within her own.

You both briefly made eye contact once more before she dragged you towards her lodgings for the night. She was happily chirping away to Beckman, recounting all of her day with you and her in town. He would ask the occasional question, humming in interest when it was called for, all the both of you would steal looks from one another like coy, lovesick teenagers.

You both readyed Uta in her pajamas, tucking her into her bedsheets and reading her a fairytale from one of her new books. After all the bedtime routine took its course, you gave Uta one final squeeze goodnight and kissed the apple of her cheek.

“Goodnight, gorgeous girl,” you whispered to her, “I'll see you in the morning. We could have breakfast together, if you like.”

“Pretty A-...,” she yawned, stretching her arms above her head and nestling into her sheets, “...-Aunty, I would like that. Pancakes?”

“We can do pancakes,” Beckman nodded, smoothing over her sheets and drawing up her quilted blanket to keep her warm, “I'll get up early and make the batter for you, okay?”

“You're the best, Uncle Beckman,” she uttered snoozily, her eyes drooping as she flopped further into her bed, “Both my favorites together.”

Quietly exiting the room, you clicked her bedroom door closed before looking around the shared communal lounge. You clicked your tongue at the miscellaneous items askew in the room, immediately setting to work and tidying up after the Red-Hair crew.

“Leave it, Darlin’,” Beckman urged you, collecting a cigarette from his pocket alongside his lighter, “The boys’ll get to it.” You huffed a gentle laugh, continuing to collect empty drinking containers, clothing items and dirty bowls and mugs. Placing the clothes in baskets, the food utensils and containers on the bench top, and turned to face him.

“Leave me be, Becks,” you shook your head with a soft smile, “Don't keep your date waiting, and let me put myself to use while I'm here.” You continued fussing in the room, leaving Beckman perplexed while mulling over your comment.

“She is very pretty,” you continued, sighing as you began to fill the basin of the sink with warm, soapy water, “You always did know how to pick the best ones.” Beckman coughed out a soft laugh, choking on his thoughts.

Spinning on your toes to gaze up at him, you waved him off with a gentle “shoo.” Beckman's mind was racing, watching you hastily turn off the tap to the basin and gather the dishes into a neatly stacked pile. Immediately drawn back to you ushering him away to rest after being so long at sea, cradling the infant Uta in your arms, supplying the Red-Force with all the ship needed to embark on the adventure: his mind zeroed in on that single moment.

As you hummed while starting to wash the drinking glasses first, he was immediately overwhelmed by those first emotions from so long ago. He neither had the constitution, nor the energy, to make his move back then: his body too sleep deprived and seaworn to truly depict his adoration for you.

He was under no such plight now.

Just when you placed the last of the drinking cups to dry on the rack beside the sink, two strong arms wrapped around your stomach while a face buried itself in the crease of your shoulder. You froze in shock, eyes wide and unblinking. Lips found your neck, sweet kisses pressed into your skin and leading down into your shoulder.

“Beckman, what are you doing?” Your breathy voice gave you away to him, truly reveling in the attention, “You're all dressed up, and your date is waiting for you-.”

“-I got dressed up for you, Darlin’,” he groaned, his lips trailing back up from your shoulder to your neck, “Only for you.” You quickly dried your hands, turning in his arms and pushing him gently on his shoulders.

“And the woman at the bar?” you asked him, brows raised and eyes darting between his half-lidded orbs. He could barely focus on forming a sentence, his mind wanting nothing but to give into what his body was craving.

“Just a kiss, nothin’ more, I swear to you,” he confessed hurriedly. His hands began to tremble as they held you firmly, your attention momentarily drawn to them before turning back to face him.

“You deserve so much more than a simple kiss, Benn Beckman,” you gazed up into his eyes, both of you mirroring the same unspoken emotions you had for one another.

“I don't want to have anything more with anyone else,” he whispered, his body moving forward, his torso brushing against your chest, “I just want you,” his voice caught in his throat as he confessed, “Only ever you.”

The love between you was physically tangible, desire rolling from you both in waves. Before managing to speak a single word of confession, you both became overwhelmed by the sensation of finally holding each other in your arms.

Lips crashed almost violently, Beckman pinning you against the kitchen counter by his hips while your hands caught his lengthy hair in fistfuls. He pawed at your legs, hoisting you up and sitting you firmly on the counter while your lips began to attack his cheek, chin and jaw with your lips.

Turning his head, he reclaimed your lips beneath his, his hips slotting between your legs and growled into your lips as you untied his hair from within the elastic. His hair fell like curtains over his shoulders, your hands gathering up the strands and holding his head hostage to your passionate and bruising kisses.

Sliding his hands over your thighs, he hurriedly snaked his arms over your hips and drew you in closer. Pelvises brushing, you whined into his lips when you felt the outline of his stiff cock grinding against your clothed core. As you parted your lips and shifted your chin, Beckman darted his tongue out to stroke yours and deepen the desperate oscillation.

“Becks,” you sighed, hands perching on his shoulders as he trailed his lips along the outside of your mouth, “Becks, stop.” He immediately broke away, eyes wide and panicking.

“I'm sorry, Darlin’,” he gasped, your hands leaving his hair and his hands leaving your body, “Did I misread something? Did you not want this-?”

“-Uta is sleeping in the other room, sweetheart,” you whispered, a love-struck smile rising to your lips as you caressed his cheek, “And Yassop was going to come and take over supervision any second,” you tucked a stray piece of fallen hair behind his ear, “I don't particularly want us to be caught, pants down and ass out by the crew.”

Beckman’s rumbled laughter was contagious, your own joining his as he stooped lower and pressed his lips against your cheek. His lips traveled again to your mouth and hummed as his warm and slow kisses pressed against yours. Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes and softened his expression: eyes half-lidded, lips parted and a small smile painted over his mouth.

“I am truly,” he kissed you with a soft peck, “deeply,” followed by another chaste kiss, “desperately,” he held his lips firmly against yours, deepening it briefly before pulling away, “In love with you.”

His confession caused your heart to beat violently against your chest, eyes swelling at the truth he disclosed to you. You collected his cheeks within your palms, rubbing a soft circle over his lips with your right thumb.

“I loved you from the moment you placed Uta in my arms,” you admitted, your voice wavering a little as you truly came to terms with your emotions, “And I have loved you every day since.” He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I win,” his nose circled your own, scrunching briefly in playful teasing, “I loved you the moment I first saw you. Just before you and Mihawk got into that large brawl, from memory.”

As the tension swelled once more between you, you shook off the feeling as soon as you heard heavy boots outside the door. Beckman broke away from you, turning away and readying his cigarette and lighter as you approached the sink. Surely and steadily as you washed the dishes, the door to the lodgings swung open to reveal Yasopp.

His pistol lay at his side, strutting on through with a soft nod to you before sharing a pointed look with Beckman.

“She sleepin’?” Yassop asked, brow raised high. Your back was turned, concentrating fully on the task of washing the dishes.

“Aye, she is,” Beckman confirmed as he lit his cigarette, inhaling a deep lungful of smoke, “You eaten?”

“Makino made some lamb stew,” Yassop confessed, wandering around to the kitchen, leaning against the countertop Beckman had pinned you against moments prior, “Had to fight Roux for the last bowl.”

“Ah, that settles my next question,” Beckman uttered, his hand raising to the crown of his head and raking through his fallen locks with his fingers, “No chance of gettin’ some leftovers for us, Darlin'.”

You huffed a soft laugh, looking at him over your shoulder and smiling mischievously.

“I have some supplies back on my ship from town,” you admitted with a shrug, “I could cook you something, if you like.”

Beckman closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side and attempting to bite back his growing smile by clamping his lips tightly around his cigarette. Yassop shot Beckman a knowing smirk, walking away from the benchtop and approaching the sink.

“Let me handle that, Hon,” he picked up a dish and nudged you away with his hips, “Go get some food sorted for you and the big guy.” Your heart began to race, turning to glance up at Beckman through your eyelashes.

“Thank you, Yassop,” you praised him, fully unable to tear your eyes away from Beckman's as his eyes darkened.

The walk back to your ship passed in almost a blink. As soon as your foot stepped atop your boat, your fine dress was immediately hoisted over your head to leave you in your lingerie. Beckman's shirt was hastily unbuttoned and shrugged away from his shoulders. All while undressing one another, your lips never left seeking out new bare flesh to press themselves against.

Finally in the crew quarters of your personal ship, your legs wrapped themselves around Beckmans hips as he wove his left hand around your shoulders, and right hand snaked around your hips to hold you firmly in place. His lips we're eagerly consuming your lips, jaw, neck and down your chest as he lined his swollen cock up with your glistening slit.

Before he prodded you with his knob, he hesitated, snapping his face up to meet with yours. You looked up at him, eyes blown with lust and lashes half-lidded. Hand caressing his cheek, he turned his chin to collect your palm beneath his lips.

“Everything okay?” you asked him in a airy whisper.

“I just-...” he darted his eyes between yours, looking down to your lips before floating back up, “...I want you to know this isn't just a notch for me,” he confessed, prodding you open with his knob, “I’ve wanted this for so long, and I want you to know how much I love you”

You smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his knob slowly stretching you open with shallow thrusts. Reopening them, your eyes met: Beckman's expressive silver globes pooling with love and adoration for you.

“If you're asking me if I love you too, please know that I do,” you whimper as he sheathed more of himself into you, your walls molding to the shape of his cock with each slow thrust, “Oh, Becks. I love you,” you moaned, arching your back as his cock sheathed itself deeply inside you.

“F-Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his forehead falling into the crease of your shoulder and neck. He began thrusting slowly, keeping the majority of his cock buried down to the hilt. His pelvis brushed against your clit, each intentional motion his hips made had his mushroomed tip curve to hit your g-spot.

You anchored your hands on his shoulders, hastily circling his shoulders to hold him closer. Your feet joined at the ankles, digging your heels into his back to prompt him to keep going. He picked up the pace, deep thrusts brushing your g-spot before pushing deeper to reach further depths within you.

“Fuck, Becks,” you moaned, arching your back and pressing your head against the pillow, “R-Remind me-... Nghmm-... Remind me again why we w-weren’t doing this f-for the past five years.”

“N-No fucking clue, Darlin’,” Beckman huffed, his hips rutting faster as he bullied your walls to take more of his brutal pace, “Coulda had you so many ways in that gloomy castle.”

“How would you’ve had me?” your mind began to fog, your smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He turned his head to face you, his grin mirroring yours between panted breaths.

“Woulda’ had you bent over that desk a few times,” he laughed, eyes rolling back as he felt your walls clench around his shaft. “Fuck,” he groaned your name, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Woulda’ had you sit at that fuckin’ desk chair, and wrap your gorgeous thighs around my face while you did your paperwork.”

You mewled as he unwrapped his left arm from your shoulder to rake at your thigh, carefully supporting it against his hips as he continued snapping his pelvis against yours.

“Pick a place in the grounds,” he groaned, his motions becoming staggered as he felt his release rapidly approach, “There's the maze,” he smirked, his gaze turning wicked and feral, “Woulda’ chased you through the damn thing in nothin’ but lingerie and some sensible running shoes.” You laughed, turning it into a short whine as he bullied his swollen tip against your g-spot.

“Oh, fuck, Beckman. I-I’m right there,” you cried, feeling the coil begin to tighten in the pit of your abdomen. Your hands pawed at him, desperately attempting to find something to tether you to the world before it came crashing down around you.

“I got you, I got you,” he chanted, his left hand leaving your thigh as he raised your hips with his right and began pistoning your body against his skin. His impossible strength heightened the pleasure he was snapping into you. Your body was flint, his hips the rock that sparked the fire to ignite your flame.

He collected your hands from his shoulders, his index finger anchoring your two wrists together as his thumb and three fingers tugged them away from his shoulders and above your head. He pressed your knuckles against the plush pillow of your bed, using his body weight to pin you against the bed.

“Becks,” you whined, “Becks, I'm close.”

“Me too, me too,” he nodded, his hips snapping with crude, wet slaps echoing within your bedroom. Mewls of your bliss and gruff groans of Beckman's own rapid approach harmonized together, your voices carrying chants of one another's names over the sea.

As your eyes began to see the dancing lights behind them, your body buzzing with bliss, Beckman's voice barked over your hypnotism to break the trance.

“Eyes on me, Darlin’,” he growled, “Wanna see you come undone. Wanna see it in your eyes.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you forced your eyes to stay open. He pummeled himself into you, your body beginning to shoot the buzzed sparks throughout your stomach to your toes.

“Becks, I-I'm gonna-...” you anchored your legs firmly against his body as your orgasm began to hit you, “...Beckman-... Fuck-... Beckman, I'm cumming.” Your body erupted into pure, electrified bliss. Eyes never leaving his, Beckman could see your unravel as his own shot through him.

“Fuck, Darlin’,” he barked, his hips staggering while his entire length was sheathed completely down to the hilt, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” Your walls wrung around his cock in rhythmic contractions, squeezing his shaft to the same rhythm he sheathed himself within you.

You attempted to wriggle away from his grip, the overstimulation causing you to panic a little beneath him. Sensing the panic in your arms, he released your hands from above your head and drew them up to his hair. Wasting no time, you drew his face down to meet yours, your lips consuming his whole he chased his bliss within you.

As your hands tangled in his hair, he rut himself deeply within you, his cock twitching and beginning to spill himself deeply within you. He was usually careful, wrapping himself in a barrier to hold back his spend. With you, he all but lost that thought the moment your lips met his for the first time back in the lodgings.

“I’m g-gonna-,” he warned you, his hips staggering, “Where? Where do you-.” You wrapped your legs tightly around his hips, refusing to allow him space to pull away from you as you sucked a dark, purple oval against his neck. “F-Fuck, Darlin’. Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Please, let me have you,” you whined against his neck, biting at his flesh as you felt the rapid approach of his hard cock within you, “Please let me have all of you.”

He chanted your name, the crude snaps of his hips staggered while fully sheathed within you. Ropes of his spend shot deep within you in short spurts. His face eagerly sought out yours, his lips collecting your mouth and groaning deeply within.

His hips stilled, his cock twitching as he continued to slowly rock his hips against yours. He released a breathy whisper, something you weren't anticipating to follow. Caressing your cheek, he looked down at you while whispering in his best attempt at Kuraiganan

“I love you.”

Your thoughts betrayed you, eyes beginning to pool with emotion at his heavily accented depiction of the language. His intentions were pure, prompting you to relay your own heart in your practiced tongue.

“I love you too, Beckman,” you whispered, your hands smoothing over the fallen strands of his hair, “More than I could ever truly say, with any uttered tongue. I love you more than you could ever dream of.” He smiled, shaking his head while attempting to understand your words.

“My Kuraiganan is lackluster,” he admitted with a short laugh, his body and yours still tingling with the aftershocks of the bliss, “But I think I got the sentiment.” He chuckled, pressing his lips against yours and passing his smile to you. Your own lips mirrored his, you both groaning as he pulled his cock out of you.

He rolled beside you, cradling your shoulders against him as he continued to move his lips in slow and intentional kisses.

For the first time since early childhood, your guard completely dropped. The walls fell away from guarding your heart from the pain of breaking, each rock of resolve gently pried away by Beckman's lips coaxing you to give in. He felt your body relax, his own following suit as he allowed his hardened heart to warm to the unspoken promises of tomorrow.

You both felt exactly in the place you needed to be, that place being within the arms of a lover you valued as equal to you.

Basking in the soft afterglow of your love for a few more moments, you slowly got up and placed Beckman's dark, button-up shirt over your body; drowning in the fabric. He laughed at you, sitting up as you went to your small bathroom to gently rinse yourself of your prior collection of joint release.

Upon exiting the room, you brought a small dish and washcloth to the man sitting in your bed. You knelt beside him, gently placing the warmed water onto his body and cleansing him.

“I really should be doing this for you, you know,” he smirked as you continued to drag the cloth over his abdomen and down to his shaft.

“Why would I expect you to, especially after you were the one who topped me?” you laughed, your hands circling a ring around his cock and drawing out the final drops of his release into the washcloth.

“You saying you could top me?” Beckman taunted you, nudging your thigh with his knee.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you purred at him, leaning over his torso and tucking a loose strand of hair over his ear, “I was being nice letting you take the lead because you're special to me,” you brought your mischievous smirk over to him, cocking your head to the side and uttering your soft promise. “When you're ready again, I'll show you how good it can be.”

Your challenge did not end unseen, your night almost sleepless as your joint pleas, cries of bliss, and praises echoed well into the dark of the night. As your body finally gave in to the sweet call of slumber, that rest was found tucked within the strong arms of Benn Beckman. His slow and steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep, just as the gentle rise and fall of your chest had him blissfully achieve the best sleep he's had aboard a ship.

As the sun began to rise, Beckman woke first. He felt you nuzzle into him as he began to shift, taking a moment to commit this picture to memory. His heart was with you, his love and adoration carried with every breath you took. As you stirred, he pressed his lips against your temple.

“Mornin’, Darlin’,” his smooth drawl has you swooning as your eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, my love,” you whispered, leaning up and pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. Marks of your night together showed itself in soft hues of purple, small indentations of teeth and scratches on your bodies. Gazing down at you, he clicked his tongue as a reprimand to himself about his rough treatment of you.

“Shouldn't ‘a gripped you so hard,” he scolded, his index finger tracing down your body and bringing your attention to the perfect cast of his hand against your hips.

“I probably should not have sunk my teeth into your shoulder like that, either,” you noted, nudging your face against his shoulder. A small, wicked grin began to simmer atop your lips, your eyes filled with mischief as you asked, “Want me to make it up to you?”

Before he could utter a word, you were already straddling his waist, peppering his cheeks, neck and shoulders with kisses as the rush of morning blood swelled his cock with eager anticipation. Both indulging in chasing your highs, you skillfully raked yourself over Beckman’s thick cock until your walls contracted in blissful flutters around his girth; his seed spilling within you as your lips pressed against one another.

This time, Beckman did all the heavy lifting with aftercare. He drew you a warm bath, your iron pipes heating your water reserves and filling the large basin with soapy water as you lay in your bed, laughing at yourself as you felt truly happy.

The taps squeaked off, your long-haired lover returning to you with his pants hanging limply from his hips. His lips collected yours beneath his, giving you a lengthy kiss as you leant into him. Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes as his smile illuminated his face.

“I promised our niece pancakes,” he reminded you, nudging your chin with his nose, “Come join us after your bath. I'll have coffee waiting for you back at the lodgings.” You swooned, whimpering at the thought as he laughed at you.

“You truly are a man after my own heart, aren't you?” you uttered more as a statement than a question, “Pancakes for the princess, coffee for the-.”

“-The queen,” he hastily confirmed your title to him, reaching down and collecting your left hand within his right, “You're my queen.” He pressed his lips on your knuckles while looking deeply into your eyes.

“Oh, stop it, flatterer,” you giggled at him, turning your left hand within his to collect his chin, “Would that make you the king?”

“Nay, my lady,” he smiled at you, his lips pressing against your palm before tugging down at your wrist, “I am your knight,” he kissed your wrist, approaching your forearm. “Your loyal soldier,” he trailed a soft kiss down to the inner crease of your elbow. “Your fierce protector,” he trailed his lips over your bicep to your shoulder, “And, most importantly,” he kissed your nose, “I am your friend first.”

“That you are, Benn Beckman,” your dazed and lovestruck eyes held his for a moment, him falling victim to your inquisitive stare, “But the most important aspect is actually,” you sat firmly up, your faces at eye level and leaving no air for misinterpretation. “You are my love,” you confessed, “You will always be my love.”

“As you will be mine,” he whispered, his voice wavering with his confession. He surged his face down to yours, his body caging yours beneath it as he pressed his unwavering love into you to solidify his vow. Just as you moved to hook your legs around his and deepen the kiss, he chuckled, tearing himself off you.

“Enough o’ that,” he chastised you, his eyes shut as he stood upright, “Keep that up, and we won't ever leave this fuckin’ room.” You rose up onto your elbows behind you, sensually biting your lip and carefully dragging your toes over his thigh.

“What if I don't want you to ever leave this room?” His head snapped over to you, his gaze firm and longing.

“You're going to be the end of me,” he sighed, catching your ankle and drawing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against it. “Pancakes and coffee first,” he growled, “Then back to this room until my queen is satisfied, yes?”

You giggled a soft, “Aye, sir,” which prompted Beckman to fall deeper into your trap, truly not wanting to leave. You handed him back his shirt, aiding him to thrust his arms into the sleeves, and gave him a soft kiss goodbye. You watched him approach the tavern with a soft bounce in his step, as you shrouded yourself with the door.

As you turned to approach your warm bath, a rumble of your personal Den-Den hummed to life. Puzzled, you reached for the small shell and elevated it to your ear.

“Enjoying your time away with our niece, my dear?” the disinterested call of Mihawk hummed at you through the transponder, “She would be about five now, yes?”

“Good morning, my lord,” you smiled into the transponder as you gathered your bathing supplies to begin basking in the soft call of the water, “Have you arrived back at Kuraigana already, sir-?”

“-I’m sorry, dear,” he spoke over you, his tone depicting an unnatural worry to you, “I truly wanted to know about Uta and the Red-Hair crew, believe me. That will need to wait, I'm afraid. You need to sit down while I tell you this, and ensure you are alone.”

At the swift change of his tone, you sat on your bed, your bathtowl beneath your naked form as you gathered a robe to shroud yourself.

“I am sat, Mihawk,” you informed him in a professionally practiced tone, “What happened? What did you do?”

There was a brief pause, a small stagger of breath within his tone, his voice betraying him as he attempted to steady it. After a moment, he informed you of his travels.

“My bounty has been canceled, and, by association, so has yours.” You cocked your head to the side, holding the shell closer to your ear as he admitted, “I have joined with the marines to become one of the seven warlords of the sea.”

You were immediately flooded with dread, your mind racing with you at this knowledge. Your bounty was hefty, your collection of whispers on the wind keeping you informed of hunters and marines before you docked or left Kuraigana.

“What does that mean?” You asked, shaking your head as you attempted to process the information, “I work for them now, too?”

“Absolutely not. You work for me, and I advocated for you because you live with me in Kuraigana,” he relayed to you, “I refuse to have every Marine rat come to my door and attempt to collect your bounty each time I receive orders from the World Government.”

After taking a few moments to collect yourself, you ready the question Mihawk knew you would ask. Although he anticipated it, he truly could not prepare for the heartbreak depicted in your tone.

“What are you asking me to do?”

“You need to come home, immediately,” he whispered after taking a slow and steady breath, “Leave the Red-Hairs and come back home to me.”

The next question that fell from your lips almost broke him, the new warlord experiencing the greatest empathy for his oldest friend and closest confidant.

“Will I ever be permitted to see them again?”

The pause he produced had your breath stop, your heart beating heavier and heavier with each burst, “...it means no contact for at least five years.”

You could barely process the following information Mihawk was relaying to you, his voice attempting to produce further instructions of, “That includes calls, letters, physical contact. We will not see our niece again for quite some time.”

Your voice caught in your throat, your pulse beating heavy in your ears with a brutality you had not had since your first encounter with the fight, flight or freeze reaction.

“My dear, did you hear me?” the smooth drawl of Mihawk's voice broke you out of your rapidly panicking thoughts, your mind snapping back to you.

“I-I can't do that,” you stuttered, your eyes swelling with immediate grief, “I can't do that, Mihawk. Especially now, since-...” your voice trailed off, your eyes immediately falling to the closed door of your ship.

After a moment of silence, Mihawk clicked his tongue in shock, putting the pieces he feared together

“You're finally been in bed with Beckman, haven't you?” your stifled sob escaped your lips, prompting your right hand to clap over it. Soothing assurances poured from his honey-sweet tone.

“My dear, I'm so sorry,” his apology fell on deaf ears as your body already began to mourn the years to be lost to you. After taking a moment longer to dwell with your shattered heart, you hardened your stance and blinked back the rise of sorrow in your eyes.

“What would you have me do, my lord,” your cool tone depicting your cast aside emotions in each articulated syllable.

“Best to tell only Shanks, and leave him to relay what he wants to his crew,” he directed you, your body moving as automatically as it could to prepare yourself to receive your orders, “You need to come back before the spy network can draw a connection between us and them.”

You stepped into the bath, hastily ridding yourself of the prior night and morning shared in the arms of your lover and stepping out to dry yourself. Housing the chain of the plug out from your bath. In lieu of the sundress you had desired to wear for the day, you tugged on your old uniform: a hooded shawl, tanned pants and a lengthy shirt beneath a face shield that only showcased your eyes above it.

Before Mihawk ended the call, he advised you with a swift and steady articulation.

“You may do what you need to do to make it easier on yourself and your niece, but know,” he paused, inhaling a deep breath, “The longer you dwell with them, the more danger you put not only yourself, but Uta in. Goa kingdom hosts marines, pirates and bandits alike. If you're seen with them, the marines have been ordered to kill on sight.”

“Aye, sir,” you uttered in a voice darker than night. Mihawk uttered a final precaution to you, his sorrow almost depicted in itself, “Better to have them hate you than for them to chase you.”

Ending the transponder call, you finally had a moment to dwell in silence before deciding on what direction to take. As you looked at yourself in your vanity, it seemed as if one has already been made for you.

#one piece #x reader #benn beckman x reader #beckman x reader #op beckman #benn beckman smut #one piece x reader #one piece smut #f!reader #op x reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year

Text

Fixer Upper

Part 3

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 2

part 4

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter

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warnings: mentions of vomit, slightly suggestive

Kurapika woke up the sound of someone knocking on his door.

“It’s me.”

(Name)’s head peeked through the crack, the smell of dinner wafting through.

“I assume you woke me up to say dinner is ready?”

“How did you know?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Lucky guess.”

The other three were already sat at the table. Tonight, they were having a baked hen, (Name) placing a few side dishes onto the table as Kurapika sat down.

“Go ahead and start eating, I’m going to grab drinks.”

Gon jumped up. “I’ll help!”

The two walked into the kitchen.

“Did you sleep well? (Name) wouldn’t let us wake you up.”

Leorio offered him a smile as the tall man filled his plate with food. He didn’t get to eat good, home cooked meals often, relying on fast food and TV dinners in between classes.

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, I did. I feel much better now.”

“Good. Does that mean you’ll be joining our sleepover tomorrow?”

He blonde sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.” Killua replied through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

‘Sleepover… I don’t think I’ve ever attended one.’

Kurapika stared at his empty plate before beginning to fill it.

“Is lemonade alright with everyone?”

Gon and (Name) we’re back at the dinner table, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and cups.

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain about (Name)’s homemade lemonade.”

Killua grabbed a cup from Gon and held it out to (Name), who filled it.

She filled everyone’s cups before sitting down and making her plate.

“It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. We should go do something tomorrow, before our sleepover.”

Gon nodded, his face covered in food. “Oh yeah, maybe we can go to the carnival! It’s in town for the next few days.”

“That’s a great idea! Guys, what do you think?”

Leorio shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Killua was just as excited as Gon, and Kurapika…

“I guess that would be fine.”

(Name) giggled, clapping her hands together. “It’s settled then. Tomorrow, we’ll go grocery shopping in the morning, and go to the carnival after lunch.”

———————

The five loaded into the car to go grocery shopping. Unfortunately for (Name), she hadn’t gotten up fast enough to avoid taking everyone with her.

“Killua, Gon, repeat it one more time.”

“No touching anything but the shopping cart.”

She sighed. “Good. And?”

“No fighting the employees.”

“Finish it.”

“… even if they’re rude to you.”

“Alright. Let’s get going then.”

The drive to the grocery store was short, the two boys playing I-spy to pass the time.

“(Name), did you get the text I sent?”

“Yes. I’m not buying wine, nice try though Leorio.”

“Damn. Foiled again.”

The five exited the mom van, Kurapika going around the back to open (Name)’s door for her, but he paused.

The bumper was covered in stickers, ranging from Sanrio themed stickers to cursed images. It was easy to see who had placed which stickers.

“Kurapika? Oh, the stickers.”

(Name) had appeared by his side while he’d been looking over the back of her car. Kurapika’s eyes paused on a family if stick man that decorated her back window.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, that’s a representation of us. The girl is me, the little ones are Killua and Gon, and the big kid is Leorio. Though he’s more of the weird uncle, we just couldn’t find one that looked like him.”

He nodded. “I see.”

He felt a bit if disappointment that his own image wasn’t there.

‘But why would it be? I’ve barely been around.’

He diverted his attention to another sticker, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby on board? What baby?”

“Killua of course.”

“I put it on myself.”

The white haired boy looked strangely proud, patting it. Gon pointed to a sticker of an alligator. “I picked this one.”

“We know Gon.”

“It’s my favorite.”

“It’s a great sticker.”

Kurapika couldn’t help but laugh.

They all followed behind (Name) as she entered the store.

‘They look like little ducklings.’ Kurapika thought, unaware that he looked like one too.

“You can grab a buggy, Killua. Gon…”

The two made eye contact, not a single word exchanged.

The two boys followed behind quietly.

‘Telepathic communication? Is that what just happened?’

Kurapika watched the boys with a carful eye. With the way (Name) had talked in the car, he knew they had to have done something in order to earn her distrust.

“Alright, let’s start with snacks. Leorio, Kurapika, grab whatever you usually snack on and watch the boys. I’m going to grab Killua and Gon’s juice boxes.”

She waved as she walked off.

“So…”

The boys turned to look at Kurapika.

“What the hell did you do to not be allowed to touch anything?”

The two shared a look.

“They’ve gotten (Name) and themselves banned from every other grocery store in town.”

“Leorio!”

Kurapika snickered. “Seriously? What did you do to get banned so many times?”

Gon kicked the ground, looking embarrassed. “… made all the shelves fall like dominoes.”

“I bit an employee hitting on (Name).”

‘I’ll have to buy him some chocolate robots for that later.’ Kurapika thought. ‘Wait, why do I care if someone hits on her?’

“They were also caught trying to break into an employees only room.”

“We just wanted to see what it looked like!”

“Maybe you did, Gon, but I wanted to steal their uniforms and see how long it took them to realize I didn’t work here.”

Leorio shook his head. “This is why they aren’t allowed to touch anything. Honestly the fact that she allowed you two to come at all is shocking.”

——————

(Name) returned with a few packs of juice, dropping them into the grocery cart.

“Is it the-“

“Yes it’s the orange juice kind.”

The two grinned, following behind her.

“Kurapika?”

“Hmm?”

“What would you like for dinner? Gon got to pick what we had last night, it’s your turn.”

The blonde took a while to answer. ‘If I tell her anything is okay, she won’t take that as an answer. What is something I would prefer?’

Kurapika didn’t usually have the privilege to be picky. He ate what he could.

“If I’m being honest, I would prefer a traditional Kurtan dish, but as that is impossible for you to make…”

He thought for a moment more, (Name) typing something into her phone as he did.

“Something… suitable for a slumber party should be fine.”

Leorio snickered. “She asked what you specifically wanted, Kurapika.”

The man shot him a look. “I’ve never been to a slumber party. I don’t know what foods you eat during one.”

(Name) nodded, patting the blonde on the back. “It’s alright, I’ll let it slide this time. Just focus on picking out some snacks you like, okay?”

She left the snack aisle then, Gon and Killua in tow.

“You heard the lady, pick out some snacks.”

Kurapika frowned. Again, he wasn’t picky. There were few things that he cared about when it came to food, but…

He managed to pick out a few items.

The first was a box of cinnamon covered pecans. Pecans were one of his favorite nuts, and he quite enjoyed cinnamon.

His second pick was bag of trail mix, and his last was a box of crackers and cheese.

“No offense but those are some pretty lame snacks.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. “She said to pick what I like. This is what I like.”

“Any particular reason you like them?”

The blonde nodded. “Nuts are high in protein, crackers and cheese are filling. Travel mix is convenient.”

Leorio sighed. ��This isn’t a mission Kurapika, it’s a slumber party. Is there any food you get purely because you enjoy it?”

Again, the blonde had to think for a minute. Staring down the snack aisle, he began walking towards the sweets section.

In front of him was a specific type of candy. They looked like normal peppermints, but instead tasted of strawberries and cream.

Kurapika took a bag, looking down at it with a half hearted smile.

It was the first candy he could remember eating, a favorite among the Kurtan children.

“Got what you all wanted?”

(Name) strolled towards the two, the shopping cart the boys were pushing a lot fuller now.

Leorio turned to her with his arms full of snacks, (Name) stopping.

“Leorio, you can have three of those.”

Kurapika blinked and looked down at his own snacks, reaching to put one back.

“Oh, you can have as many as you want, Kurapika!”

She grabbed the snacks from his arms and dropped them into the shopping cart.

“Hey, no fair! Why does Kurapika get special treatment?”

(Name) gave him a smile. “Because Kurapika is just too pretty to deny.”

It took a moment for Kurapika to process the compliment, but when he did his cheeks turned pink. She’d called him pretty before, but the suddenness of her words left him flustered.

“That’s discrimination! Are you saying I’m not pretty?”

Leorio leaned forward, fluttering his eyelashes. (Name) groaned and pushed him away. “You’re not pretty, Leorio, you’re handsome.”

The man paused, his own cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Leorio cleared his throat and stood. “Ehem. Thank you.”

‘She thinks Leorio is handsome?’

Kurapika glanced between the two. In the past two years he’d been gone, how much closer had they gotten?

Was it closer than him and (Name) had been?

Kurapika only became more suspicious when (Name) looped her arm in Leorio’s.

“Let’s go check out, then.”

She walked away, Gon and Killua laughing.

“She always knows how to distract Leorio.” Killua said, snickering. Gon nodded.

“Yeah, one compliment and he’s like that.”

Leorio stumbled over both his words and his own feet as (Name) dragged him away.

The blonde watched with mild irritation.

———————

“Everyone, what are the rules for the carnival?”

They all sighed.

“1. Don’t fight the carnies, even if their games are rigged.” Killua said, his arms folded over his chest.

“2. There is a buddy system. At least have on other person with you at all times.” Gon answered, grabbing Killua’s arm.

“3. No gambling.”

“Wait why is that a rule?” Killua asked after Leorio stated the 3rd rule.

“You can blame Leorio for that.”

The other three boys turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

‘What an idiot.’

“4. No leaving the carnival without informing everyone first.” Kurapika said, opening his car door.

“That goes for everyone, adults included. I won’t hesitate to report any of you missing.”

She gave them all a look before smiling.

“Okay, everyone grab your buddy and let’s go!”

The group left the parking lot and entered the carnival.

“We’ll walk around then split up. Killua, Gon.”

She grabbed both of the boys by their shoulders when she noticed them starting to drift away

“You’ll be joining us.”

Killua groaned, Gon just nodding as he was dragged away.

They made a lap around the carnival, (Name) pointing out each attraction she’d want to visit.

“Oh, there’s a haunted house.”

Leorio perked up. “Haunted house? It’s not even close to Halloween.”

Kurapika glanced at the cheaply designed haunted house before continuing to follow (Name).

“Okay, you two can go. We’ll be meeting back up before 3 pm at the food court.”

The two boys were gone as soon as she finished talking.

“Are they going to follow the rules?”

“No, but they’ll be secretive about it so hopefully it can’t be traced back to me.”

“Hopefully they don’t attack anyone this time.”

Kurapika stared at the two with an incredulous expression.

‘What the hell do they get up to when they’re unsupervised?’

The first attraction the group of three were drawn to was a game where you threw darts at balloons to win a prize.

“Hmm… Leorio, I’m going to try.”

The man nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to be at the next booth.”

Kurapika and (Name) turned, only to be instantly disappointed.

“A kissing booth? Seriously Leorio?”

(Name) walked up to the game of her choice. “Kurapika, you can go to another booth nearby while I play if you want.”

“I think I’ll try this one after you.”

(Name) nodded then handed the man behind the counter a few dollars.

“Alright Miss, all you have to do is hit three balloons with these darts, and you’ll win a prize!”

He handed her five darts, meaning she had five chances.

She handed Kurapika two of the darts. “Hold these for me, sweetheart.”

He did so, holding back a smile.

(Name) threw her first dart.

“You’ve hit your first balloon! Only three more to go!”

She jumped up and down in excitement. “Ahh, okay!”

She threw her second one, almost grazing a nearby balloon. It hit the board, missing it by a millimeter.

The next dart also missed, (Name) raising an eyebrow.

‘Weird, those should have hit.’

“Do you want me to try?”

Kurapika twirled a dart between his nimble fingers. His eyes were on the balloons, a frown on his lips.

“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”

Kurapika stepped forward, throwing the dart with more strength than necessary.

POP!

The carny’s eyes went wide. “How did you…”

“You’ve been using nen to make the balloons harder to penetrate but…”

He threw his last dart, popping the last balloon.

“It wasn’t strong enough to resist my nen coated darts.”

(Name) used Gyo to see Kurapika was right. The balloons had a thin nen barrier around them, making them indestructible to non men users.

The carny scoffed. “Didn’t think any nen users would be coming to my booth. Go ahead and pick out your prize, little lady.”

(Name) glanced at Kurapika, giving him a sweet smile.

“You pick. You’re the one that figured out what was going on, it’s only fair.”

Kurapika browsed the various plushies and small toys. Nothing he saw caught his eye.

‘I’m not really interested in such things. But…’

He turned away to think, and spotted a couple at another booth.

A man won a game, the girl at his side cheering for him. Once the prize was won, he handed it to the girl.

Kurapika’s eyes widened when the girl gasped and pulled the man into a kiss.

‘Is this what you’re supposed to do?’

He looked over the prizes again, this time with (Name) in mind. Kurapika remembered when he’d been in a small store in York New with Leorio

“She likes cute things. Like Sanrio products.”

“Sanrio? What is that?”

Leorio stared at the man. “Are you being serious? Hello Kitty, My Melody, Keroppi?”

Kurapika gave him a confused look.

“Oh my god. Just get her this.”

Leorio shoved a keychain into his hands. It was small and pink, with a cartoon cat holding a strawberry at the end.

Kurapika pointed to a Hello Kitty plush. “I’ll take that one.”

The carny handed it over and shooed them away. “Now get out of here. You’re bad for business.”

(Name) shrugged and walked over to Leorio, who was still in line for the kissing booth.

Now Kurapika was left carrying a small Hello Kitty plush.

‘Do I… give it to her now? Or later?’

(Name) had to physically drag Leorio away from his place in line. “It’s flu season, Leorio.”

“I don’t care! I’ll happily get sick if I get to kiss a pretty lady!”

Kurapika followed behind them, staring down at the small plush.

‘It’s… kind of cute.’

——————

After playing a few games, the group met up at the food court. Gon and Killua had been waiting for them with corndogs in hand.

“Finally. We’ve been waiting for like…”

“Five minutes.”

(Name) rolled her eyes and sat down next to them. “You two having fun?”

“Gon threw up.”

“Twice!”

(Name) smacked a hand over her forehead. “And you didn’t call me, why?”

“… it was really gross.”

“Trust me, you didn’t want to see it.”

Kurapika shivered. “Gross. Why are you eating if you just threw up?”

“It’s BECAUSE I just threw up. Gotta refuel before our next ride.”

“Wait, pause.”

(Name) held up her hand, causing the two boys to go quiet.

“Have you been eating and getting on rides right after throwing up?”

They looked at each other before answering.

“… yeah?”

She took a deep breath.

“I love you two. So much.”

She stood up and took Gon’s backpack.

“Hey, my tickets are in there!”

“Yeah, that’s why I took it. No riding anything for at least 20 minutes.”

“But-“

“But nothing! It’s like you’re shaking up a soda can, opening it, then refilling it and doing it all over again! You’re the soda can, Gon!”

Gon sighed, laying his head on the table.

“I told you not to eat four bags of popcorn before going on the carousel, but noo, you wouldn’t listen!”

Killua huffed. “Now we both have to sit out. I can’t rude anything because you’re my buddy.”

(Name) patted Gon’s back. “I’ll get you some water, okay? Just try and relax.”

She left to order her food and get some water.

(Name) returned a few minutes later with a platter of food in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

“Sip on this, I’ll be right back with the other drinks.”

Gon gulped the drink in one go.

“She said sip.”

“Please don’t tell her.”

Killua slapped a hand over his face. “I won’t, but only because if I do she’ll make us stay seated longer.”

Kurapika took a bite of the chicken strips he’d ordered, wincing at the greasy food.

“Ahh, carnival food. I’m going to be sick later.”

Leorio took another bite of his turkey leg.

(Name) returned with the drinks, sitting one in front of each person before taking her seat.

“Alright, dig in.”

She didn’t bother to look up to see they had begun eating without her, seemingly replying to someone on her phone.

After their meal of chicken strips and corn dogs, the group split up again.

“What should we ride next?”

Leorio began to speak but (Name) interrupted.

“I said ride. We’re not going back to the kissing booth.”

“Foiled again.”

Kurapika pointed to a nearby attraction. “How about that one?”

It was one of those turning teacups rides.

‘It’s cute, (Name) would probably like it.’

She hummed, pulling the two behind her to get in line.

“Yeah, let’s try this one. It’s only a dollar per person.”

(Name) stood on her tippy toes to peek over the person in front of her. “The line doesn’t seem that long, we’ll only have to w-“

She was interrupted when someone shoved her back and took her place in line.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Leorio stepped out of line to help (Name) up and brush the dirt off her dress.

The man who had cut the line didn’t answer.

Kurapika glanced between (Name) and the man, his jaw tensing.

‘She said not to attack anyone. Keep calm.’

Leorio and (Name) joined the line again, Kurapika creating a space for them to get in front of him.

(Name) politely tapped on the man’s shoulder.

“You need to go to the end of the line.”

The man turned around.

“And just what are you gonna do about it if I don’t?”

Her companions stared back at him from behind her, their expressions darkened.

“I… I’ll go.”

The man scurried away before (Name) could say another word.

“Wow. Was he scared of me?”

She pointed a finger at herself, looking back at her friends in surprise.

“You do have a scary mom look. Must of been a mommas boy.” Leorio replied with a shrug.

Kurapika followed the man with his eyes, making sure he could feel the blondes bloodlust with each step.

“Kurapika?”

He blinked before turning his attention back to (Name).

“Your eyes.”

The blonde paused, staring into the reflective metal off the teacup ride.

His usual soft brown eyes were a rich shade of scarlet. (Name) grabbed Kurapika’s hand and moved into a crowd of people.

“Close your eyes until I say to open them.”

He did so, trusting her to lead him to safety.

The two stopped somewhere, (Name) thrusting something onto his face.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

His vision was darker now.

“Sunglasses?”

“Yeah, will that work?”

He nodded. “Yes. They’ll work for now.”

Kurapika took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

‘Why are my eyes scarlet? Am I that angry a man pushed her?’

(Name) placed a hand on his arm. “I don’t think anyone saw, but we should probably leave to be safe.”

Although she was putting up a brave face so he wouldn’t feel bad, he could tell she was disappointed they would have to leave.

“No, it’s fine. I closed my eyes seconds after they became scarlet, no one would have seen them.”

He took her hand, walking away from the booth she’d led them to.

“Let’s get back to Leorio. He probably has no idea what’s going on.”

“Actually, he’s the one that realized your eyes were red. I just reacted first.”

Kurapika laughed. “Of course. He’s so slow to act. Very indecisive.”

———————

The two joined Leorio, who had kept their spot in line while they were away.

“You two are just in time. It’s our turn next.”

(Name) jumped up in excitement. “Really? Oh good, I hate waiting.”

The three soon discovered that the ride was two per teacup.

And Leorio was way too tall to be stuffed into a teacup with another person.

“Sir, we’ll need you to step out of line. You’re too tall to ride this attraction.”

“Too tall?! There aren’t any rules about being too tall!”

(Name) gave him a look, causing him to back down and grumpily step away.

“Alright, you two ladies can go ahead and enter the teacups.”

Kurapika frowns. ‘Why do people keep assuming I’m a woman?’

(Name) took her seat in a pink teacup. “Get in and close the door behind you.”

He listened, a pout on his lips. Did he really look that much like a woman? What was it that made people immediately assume he wasn’t a man?

‘I should cut my hair…’

(Name) tapped his leg with her foot. “Hey, it’s time to start spinning!”

“Spinning? What-“

(Name) turned the wheel in the center with a giggle, the teacup spinning around so fast Kurapika had to hold on to keep himself from flying out.

“Ahh, this is so much fun! K- wait are you okay?”

Kurapika was beginning to turn a sickly shade of green as the rude continued. He gave her a thumbs up before moving his hands to hold his stomach.

“Oh shit.”

———————

“(Name), I am so sorry.”

The two sat on a bench, both covered in vomit.

“Don’t be. I should have known you would have a sensitive stomach after eating that greasy food.”

Leorio returned, carrying (Name)’s backpack. “Hey, I got your text. Is-“

He stopped a few feet away, holding a hand over his mouth.

“Yikes.”

(Name) let out a tired sigh, standing up so Kurapika could lie down fully.

“Watch over him, I’ll be right back.”

“What about the buddy system?”

(Name) shrugged. “That only applies to you four trouble makers.”

Kurapika slapped a hand over his head, letting out a miserable groan.

She was back soon after, carrying a handful of wet paper towels and a novelty tshirt that says “I love YN”.

“What is a York New tshirt doing here? We aren’t even close.”

(Name) shrugged. “I don’t know, it was the cheapest shirt available. Here, let me help you.”

She helped Kurapika sit off and pulled off his tabard, folding it carefully and throwing it in a plastic bag to wash later.

“I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your fun.”

(Name) pulled the shirt over his head and gave him a soft smile. “To be fair, Gon has been throwing up too.”

“But I threw up ON you.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, that does suck. But everyone gets sick. Trust me, I’ve gone through worse.”

He frowned, looking down at his new clean shirt.

“I’m going to go change too. Just rest up, the boys will be here in a minute.”

“You mean Gon and Killua? Wait I-“

She was already gone.

“Fuck, if Killua sees me like this-“

The sound of raucous laughter could be heard to his left.

‘God damn it.’

“Oh my- oh my god no way. There’s no way this is happening right now, hahaha!”

Killua was rolling on the ground, tears in his eyes from how hard he was laughing.

“Oh, you threw up too? And you got a new shirt, wow!”

Killua pulled himself together, picking himself off the ground.

“I don’t see why this is so funny. It’s just a novelty tshirt.”

Killua paused.

“No way.”

He took his phone out of Gon’s backpack and snapped a picture, turning the screen towards Kurapika.

The glasses (Name) had unceremoniously shoved into his face weren’t just normal sunglasses.

They were the most obnoxiously over the to hello kitty sunglasses on planet earth.

Killua bursted into laughter again. “Jesus Christ man, who told you those were a good choice?”

“(Name) did.”

His cheeks were a dark shade of red now. He wished (Name) would have picked something a little… manlier.

‘This must be the reason that person thought I was a woman. Of course.’

“Oh.”

Killua quieted down. He wouldn’t insult something (Name) picked out.

“I think they look good on you.”

Killua jumped at the sound of (Name)’s voice behind him.

“(Name)?”

Kurapika raised his head weakly to look at her.

“Where did you get those clothes from?”

(Name) was now wearing a tank top and a white pleated skirt. “Oh, I keep a change of clothes in my bag at all times. It became a habit after the Hunter Exam.”

He glanced from her small backpack, to her new clothes, to her face.

“How… never mind.”

(Name) crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his forehead.

“You’re warm. I’m going to take the boys to a few more rides, and then we’ll go home. Leorio, stay with him until then.”

“Roger that.”

(Name) leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Just consider us even for me drooling on you during the Hunter Exam, alright?”

She gave him a sweet smile before turning to leave, Killua and Gon following behind her.

——————

For the most part, Leorio listened and stayed by Kurapika’s side.

That was until he had to use the bathroom.

“Hey, you think you’ll be okay for like… five minutes? I need to take a leak.”

“I’m a grown man, I can handle myself.”

Leorio would have shot back saying even grown men need help sometimes, but he didn’t have enough time to, sprinting off to the restrooms.

For the first minute or so, Kurapika stayed still, letting the cool breeze calm him down.

That was until people started to gather around him.

“There’s a drunk lady just… laying on that bench. Is that legal?”

“She smells awful.”

Kurapika cracked one of his eyes open. On his right were a handful of people, peeking over the bench to look at him.

“I’m not drunk, just sick”

“That’s what they all say, lady. There’s kids here, drink at home.”

Kurapika sighed softly. He didn’t give a shit what other people thought about him, but they were disturbing his rest.

“Listen, I’m this close to projectile vomiting on anyone in 30 foot vicinity. You might want to vacate the premises.”

They scoffed at him. “Oh really?”

Kurapika rolled his eyes and pretended to dry heave, sending the crowd of people running.

“Oh god he’s going to throw up again. (Name)!”

“Where is Leorio? I leave for 10 minutes and-“

Kurapika held up a hand. “I’m fine, I was just pretending.”

(Name) helped him sit up. “Okay, we’ll pretend to not be a total mess right now because people are staring. Where’s Leorio?”

He leaned against her shoulder for support, cursing his weak body. “Bathroom. He’s only been gone for a minute.”

She halfheartedly patted his back. “Alright. Gon, Killua, go get him and head towards the car. I’ll meet you there.”

She pulled him into a standing position. “Can you walk?”

He stepped forward without her help, pushing her hand away. “Yes, I’m not helpless.”

Killua raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. You look like a newborn giraffe. Don’t blame (Name) if you fall and eat shit.”

Kurapika flipped him the bird before stumbling towards the car.

‘Why are men like this?’ (Name) followed behind him, ready to catch him if he fell.

———————

The car ride home was quiet, the only sound heard being Killua singing along to whatever was on the radio.

“Killua, could you please quiet down? I’ve gotta headache.” Kurapika asked as a hand rubbed away at his temple.

Killua looked like he was considering his question, opening his mouth before (Name) sent him a glare through the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Kurapika sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

If he knew that Killua had been seconds away from screaming at the top of his longs before (Name) intervened, he wouldn’t have thanked him.

(Name) pulled into the driveway of her home. The boys piled out of her mom van, running inside and tossing off their shoes.

“I’m going to shower…” Kurapika stated before stumbling towards the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t forget-“

He closed the door behind him.

“Your clothes…”

She groaned. Now, either she would have to bring him clothes while he showered or he would have to walk to his room in a towel.

‘Wait…’

“Hey, I’m going to take a shower. Can you bring Kurapika some clothes in a minute?”

She’d asked Leorio, but KIllua butted in. “Yeah, I can.”

“No. Sorry but I don’t trust you.”

“But…”

“No buts. Leorio, don’t let him get his little paws on Kurapika’s clothes. Killua has a cute face, but don’t be fooled.”

Leorio scoffed. “Oh please, I’ve known him longer than you. I watched him take a man’s heart out with just his bare hands.”

“Killua thats unsanitary.”

“He didn’t even wash his hands after.”

“GROSS!”

(Name) pulled away from the boy, a look of disgust on her face. “Go wash your hands, now!”

“It was two years ago!”

“I don’t care! Go!”

He walked up the stairs to (Name)’s bathroom while grumbling about her being unreasonable.

“I’ll take his clothes now…” Leorio slipped away into Kurapika’s room to avoid (Name)’s irritated state.

“Okay, let’s get you some medicine for your nausea earlier.”

Gon and (Name) sat at the dinner table, drinking juice boxes as she waited for Killua to come back down the stairs.

“I’m done. Go take your shower or whatever.”

(Name) leaped out of her seat and races up the stairs. She’d been putting on brave face for Kurapika, but she’d been on the verge of a meltdown for the past two hours.

‘God I smell so gross. Gonna throw that dress away later…’

She threw her clothing into the hamper and stepped into the warm water.

‘Ahh… that’s better. Gonna- where the fuck is my shampoo?’

(Name) blinked, did she use the rest of her shampoo last time? Good thing she kept extra under her sink…

(Name) finished her shower quickly. She’d need to start dinner soon if they would be eating before 8 pm.

Since they were having a sleepover, (Name) threw on a pair of pajama pants and a sweater. Comfortable, and cute.

‘There’s no one to look cute for, though.’

She sighed. It had been a while since she’d thought about purposefully dressing up. She’d have to call up some of her friends for a night on the town.

“Hey, did you-“

(Name) paused on the last stair. For a moment, she contemplated just going back upstairs and going back to bed. That would be much easier than dealing with the current situation.

Fake money was strewn across the floor, Leorio sitting in a corner muttering something about losing everything.

Killua and Kurapika were having a stand off, Monopoly money clutched against Killua’s chest.

And Gon was sitting with his shoes on the couch.

‘Where to start?’

She made her presence known by clearing her throat. Several pairs of eyes shot up to see her staring down at them, her eyes narrowed.

“You have 1 minute to fix this. I’ve got to grab my backpack from upstairs.”

With that, she turned around and walked back up.

———————

When (Name) returned, the floor was clean and the boys were all sitting patiently at the dinner table.

“Okay, good. Now that that’s settled, what should we do for dinner?”

“Something simple. I don’t think Gon can handle anything complex right now.”

Killua patted his friends back, who was currently sitting with his face planted on the table.

“Anything you make will be good, so I don’t care.”

(Name) groaned. “God you guys are no help at all.”

She stormed to the kitchen and threw the fridge open.

‘Something easy and simple… that won’t take long to cook…’

She settled on her grandmas recipe for homemade chicken noodle soup. She’d made it countless times, and even though it wasn’t cold outside yet, she knew it was the best option she had.

It was easy to make and would be good for her two sick friends.

“We’re eating chicken noodle soup. That okay with everyone?”

They all nodded, the two boys moving from the table to the couch to watch TV.

Kurapika’s hair was wet. Again. (Name) stared at him, hoping he’d be able to feel her thoughts and dry his hair, but he didn’t react at all.

“Kurapika… your hair.”

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Didn’t I tell you if you don’t dry it, you’ll catch a cold?”

He pushed his wet locks out of his face. “You worry too much. I’ve been leaving my hair wet for years.”

(Name) left the room and grabbed a towel. “Either you dry it, or I do. I’m not going to let you get sick.”

Kurapika stared at the towel.

‘Well… she did a good job last time…’

“… you can dry it. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. Leorio, watch the chicken. It’s cooking on the stove.”

“Roger that.”

(Name) dried his hair again, Kurapika relaxing ever so slightly under her touch.

‘I shouldn’t get used to this…’

But even as he thought that, his eyes closed and he leaned into her touch, a content look on his face.

He didn’t know how much he loved the feeling of fingers running through his hair. Kurapika even enjoyed the conditioner she added in.

“All done. Try to remember next time, okay?”

‘I’ll remember to forget.’

As (Name) cooked, Kurapika watched her from the table. It was hard not to.

He could still feel the lingering sensation of her fingers in his hair. It felt comforting, soothing almost.

Was it wrong to let himself enjoy the comfort of his friend? Maybe. In his world, that was a luxury he didn’t have the time to enjoy.

But he wasn’t on a mission right now. He could relax.

Just a little.

——————

After dinner, the group gathered in the living room. (Name) and Gon carried in multiple large comforters, placing them on the group to make a pallet.

“Are we… all sleeping here? Together?”

Kurapika watched as the other four plopped down onto the floor, Gon and Killua rolling around the soft surface.

“Yeah? That’s what you do during a sleepover. You… sleep over.”

He stared down at Leorio, who looked a bit too comfortable lying next to (Name).

“I see.”

He sat between Leorio and (Name), pushing the man away with his foot.

“Hey, rude! Who says you get to sleep next to (Name)?”

“I just don’t know how I feel letting my female friend sleep next to a known pervert. I wouldn’t be able to rest knowing she might be leered at.”

Leorio began to protest, but Killua spoke up.

“I actually agree with Kurapika. We haven’t forgotten what happened during the Hunter Exam.”

“Wait what happened?”

(Name) tilted her head in Leorio’s direction.

“On second thought I think I’m perfectly fine sleeping over here.”

Leorio cuddled up under a blanket, hiding away from (Name)’s judging gaze.

“Uh huh… anyways, what should we do next? Okay some games? Watch a movie?”

“Aren’t we… aren’t we supposed to sleep?”

Kurapika was already under his blanket, looking up at her with sleepy eyes.

“Oh, I mean you can, but I won’t promise you’ll be unscathed when you wake up.”

He was suddenly very awake.

“Unscathed?”

“First one to fall asleep gets their face drawn on.”

“Except for (Name). Last time we did that…”

KIllua shuddered. “It was a permanent marker too.”

“Killua. You didn’t.”

(Name) sighed. “He did. I had to go on a mission with a faded marker mustache and scribbles on my face. It was awful.”

“I don’t envy you. Not one bit.”

Killua and Gon crawled over. “We said we were sorry! Gon even picked you flowers.”

“Yeah, from our neighbors garden.”

“Technically-“

“Technically nothing! Now they won’t talk to me anymore!”

(Name) crossed her arms, pouting. “They were pretty though… and it was sweet of you…”

She pulled the two into her arms. “Aww, I can’t stay mad at my boys. Come on, let’s get some snacks and play some games.”

The two followed behind her like the puppies they were, Kurapika watching.

“How should I know you’re not going to perv on her?”

Kurapika glanced down at Leorio, who was wrapped up in a blanket. He’s inched towards the blonde like a worm.

“Unlike you I don’t have the history of being a sexual deviant.”

Leorio scoffed. “Yeah, sure. That’s only because you haven’t had your sexual awakening.”

Kurapika frowned. “My what?”

The dark haired man stared up at him. “You’re joking. Have you ever had any kind of sexual education?”

“… no?”

Leorio face planted. Now he really looked like a worm.

“Jesus. Okay, when a mom and a dad love each other very much-“

“I know what sex is, Leorio. Also, shut up.”

The blonde man’s face had gone red. Even if he hadn’t had his sexual awakening or whatever the hell Leorio had said, talking about sex was awkward.

Especially when his friend knew a lot more than he did.

“Whatever. Just… if you need to know something about it… just call me. I don’t want you doing something stupid and embarrassing yourself in front of (Name).”

Kurapika’s face turned a brighter shade of red. “In front of (Name)? What do you mean by-“

“Guys, should we play Candy Land or Uno?”

Their conversation was thankfully cut short by the group returning, games in hand.

Kurapika thanked the fact that he’d been sick today, because his red face was easily excused.

———————

They played for an hour or so before Leorio gave in and fell asleep.

“Boys, he has classes this weekend. Use the washable markers.”

Kurapika and (Name) sat on the couch watching some random anime the two boys had picked out as they doodled away on Leorio’s face.

“Are you feeling tired?”

(Name) had only asked because Kurapika’s head was dangerously close to leaning on her shoulder.

“Mm… a little.”

“You’re safe to sleep now. They have their victim.”

Kurapika nodded, but didn’t move. His eyes were getting heavy and he didn’t have enough brain capacity to listen.

“Mhm… yeah I’ll do that in just… just a…”

His head fully leaned onto her shoulder, the man falling asleep.

(Name) peeked at him from the corner of his eyes.

‘Ugh, why does he have to be so cute. It’s hard to keep my distance when he’s so freaking cute!’

She moved, moving his head from her shoulder to her lap.

‘If he stayed like that, he’ll hurt his neck…’

Once Killua and Gok finished their dastardly deed, they joined (Name) on the couch.

“I can kick him off of you if you want.”

(Name) shooed Killua away. “Killua, that’s not nice. Let him rest.”

The white haired boy rolled his eyes. “Alright, but don’t come complaining to me if he drools on you.”

She pursed her lips. “I won’t.”

Another hour passed, with (Name) passing the time by gently running her fingers through his hair.

It wasn’t as soft as it had been when he’d fallen asleep on her before. She knew he hadn’t been taking care of himself, and this only solidified the thought in her head.

‘I need to help him. Before he ends up getting himself killed.’

Gon and Killua fell asleep soon after. Killua had finally run out of steam after him and Gon chased each other down the street for a good 30 minutes.

‘The neighbors are going to complain again. At least they think the thing disturbing their sleep is a cryptid and not Killua.’

She glanced down at Kurapika.

He was crying.

She didn’t know why, but in his sleep tears had pooled into the corners of his eyes, falling onto her lap.

(Name) wiped them away and pulled the blanket they were sharing up to his chin.

‘It’s been a long day. I should sleep too…”

She moved so her legs were underneath him and lied down, her head resting against the armrest of the couch.

306 notes · View notes

redahlia-writes · 10 months

Text

practical magic. | javier peña x ofc

Abstract: Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

Words: 12k

Content: original female character (helena goode); alternative universe, magic, death, ghosts, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of an abusive relationship, mildly suggestive language, inspo both from the movie and the book

A/N: it's still halloween, right? i'm sorry for the late late posting but, alas, shit happens. i hope you all enjoy this nevertheless <3

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

also on AO3 - masterlist

He will hear my call a mile away. He will whistle my favorite song. He can ride a pony backwards. He can flip pancakes in the air. He'll be marvellously kind. And his favorite shape will be a star. And he’ll have eyes like chocolate, worthy of honesty.

Helena Goode often thought about the petals blowing in the air after her Amas Veritas, her true love. Years had gone by since then—she’d been just a kid, wishing on her true love, her perfect love. Thinking it could not exist—for how could it, when all those women came crying in her aunts’ kitchen in the middle of the night? She’d wished for what she thought could never come to her.

And then there had been Frankie—her love, definitely not perfect, but good, so good. And gone, gone forever, because she had loved him so much. Or so she had thought—maybe that hadn’t been real, maybe there was no such thing as real love, contrary to what her sister said. After all her aunts had played a part in her marriage, and for so long after Frankie’s death she’d tried to believe none of it had been real, so that it would hurt less. So that she would not die of a broken heart.

But, in spite of everything, in spite of her bitterness, in spite of her pain, in spite of the loss, she knew some things had been real. Like the coffee he made her in the morning before leaving for work, like the dinners she fixed before he came back, like the colour they picked to paint the walls of their house; like all the times she’d listened for his whistling as he came back from work; like his kisses, and like their two beautiful daughters; like the laughter during the day and the nights spent awake; like the normal life they’d began living, and the shop they’d dreamed of opening together that now belonged to her only.

Like the State Investigator who stood in front of her at the front door, asking after her sister’s boyfriend. A boyfriend she knew to be dead and buried right there in the backyard. Fuck, she kept thinking, looking at the man in front of her—his eyebrows arched, lips parted under a neatly trimmed moustache, eyes dark as chocolate, and—

“I’m sorry?” she asked, clearing her throat. Dry throat. Sweaty palms. Tongue-tied.

“Is your sister home?” She knew he’d asked that already, and he was being mighty patient about it. “I’d like to speak with her, ma’am,” and then, because she had not moved an inch, “nothing to worry about, really. Just routine questions.”

“Sure,” again Helena cleared her throat, and willed her legs to move. She stepped back, opening the door fully so that she could let him through. “Come on in, I’ll go get her.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, over and over as the man nodded and stepped in, walking past her into the entrance—he smelled of coffee and tobacco, of the desert he came from. Helena closed the door and wiped her hands down the front of her shirt, which she suddenly realised belonged to one of her daughters, with rhinestones adorning the front. Fuck.

“Kitchen is just on your left, I’ll be right back.”

Phoebe Goode was trying her best. Each night she dreamed about James—his eyes, old and clear, staring at her—and each morning she tried to stop carrying him with her, to forget he ever existed, even though she could still see him on her face, in the bruises around her eye, in the split lip on the point of healing—thanks to her sister salve, the one that smelled of roses. She was trying her best, ignoring the awful fact she felt him still, knowing that the deepest relationship with a man of her whole life was with a dead man.

So she wore blue for protection, and had asked Emma, her niece, to lock her cigarettes away, and tried to sit in silence to meditate and push him away, out of her mind, out of her life for good. She was even back at the house, where she’d sworn she would never go back, because it was safer, because of her sister.

Her sister, running up the stairs, out of breath, in a shirt that did not belong to her and a skirt that must’ve been older than her, so dishevelled-looking Phoebe felt her heart drop for a moment, figured the next words out of her mouth would be James, and honestly anything after that could be awful, because he was. Had been.

“There’s a cop. Agent. Someone,” Helena was gasping, her voice an alarmed whisper. “He’s looking for you. And James—but he asked for you.”

“That’s fine, we can manage,” perhaps the meditation was working, because even after hearing his name she could still think without panic closing her throat. “I’ll tell him I haven’t seen him in days, and I came here because we’re done. And if he asks, you’ll just say—” she stopped, frowning at her sister as she shook her head. “What? You’ll just say you’ve never seen him.”

“Here’s the thing,” Helena reached for her chest, still shaking her head, still out of breath. Her head was spinning, and her heart—God, her heart—felt like it was about to explode. “I don’t think I can lie to him.”

“Of course you can,” Phoebe scoffed—but her sister was still having a hard time breathing, her eyes so wide she looked like a deer spooked half to death. “Get over yourself, Lena. It’s fine. You’re just having a panic attack.”

“I don’t think it’s that. I just—the way he looks at you,” she inhaled sharply, a strangled noise scratching her throat and making her sound like a wounded animal, then exhaled, breath stuttering. “I can’t sit there and just lie to him. I know I can’t.”

“You have to, Lena,” but her sister’s eyes darted around the attic, where Phoebe was staying in. She snapped her fingers in front of her face, making her recoil. “Listen to me, you have to. We know nothing, nothing happened.”

Helena and Phoebe had grown up knowing that something was real because they believed in it. That was what gave things power—magic, words, talismans. But what happened when two people believed two different things? How did the universe cope with that? Was James dead and buried in their backyard, under lilacs that were growing wildly out of season (girls in the neighbourhood had begun to whisper that if you kissed the boy you loved beneath the Goode’s lilacs he’d be yours forever, whether he wanted to be or not), or was he back in Laredo, or off somewhere else, left behind by his girlfriend?

Javier Peña was wondering the same as he stood in the odd kitchen of an odd house, there on Magnolia Street.

There were no clocks and no mirrors, in that house, and the floors creaked anywhere but where he stepped; light came pouring in from big, wide windows, showing an even bigger garden with lilacs out of season and more flowers and plants that he could recognise or count—rosemary and lavender, roses and daisies, carrots and an apple tree that reminded him strangely of home, but all seemed like a dream through the thick glass. Each piece of furniture inside seemed dusty, but when he ran his fingertip across the dark wooden surface of this table or that cabinet, no dust came away—no need for polishing anything in there. It smelled of cherrywood. It smelled familiar.

It was a familiarity Javier had not been ready to face—he touched the pocket of his jacket, felt the paper tucked in there crinkle at the touch, and a moment later, as if summoned by thought alone, Helena Goode came back down the stairs, slightly more dishevelled looking than before.

Helena had clearly been in the kitchen when he first knocked. He knew because he could almost see it, like a ghost moving around the stove, stirring a pot that had since been turned off, its content left forgotten on the back burden. He knew because she’d called Hold on at the third rattle of his knuckles across the door, matter-of-factly, as if she’d been expecting him. The mere sound of her voice had thrown him for a loop, the patio under his feet shifting unsteadily, and he could’ve followed the sound there with his eyes closed.

He thought then he could be in trouble—and when she’d opened the door, he’d known he would. Because he’d looked into crystal clear pools of grey and begun drowning, down and down without anything he could do about it. His father had once told him that witches caught you like that: with a look. If you ever meet a woman like that, you run the other way, no matter what, for your own good. There’s no cowardice in safety. But Javier had no intention of running—he’d rather drown, over and over, if it meant she looked at him like that a little longer.

She stood at the end of the stairs, perfectly still, with that ridiculous shirt with rhinestones across her chest and her dark hair down past her shoulder, brushing the sliver of uncovered skin at her waist. She was beautiful, Javier thought, so ridiculously beautiful he got a lump in his throat just looking at her. For a moment, before her Can I help you? at the door, he’d almost forgotten the reason he was there. He almost forgot it again when he saw her shake her head at the end of the stairs, and had to touch the letter tucked next to his heart again.

“Can I get you anything?” her voice sounded different as she strode into the kitchen. “My sister will be right down. Coffee?” she wasn’t looking at him, and Javier wished she’d just stop and turn to face him, if only to forget himself again in her eyes.

But Helena wouldn’t turn. She wouldn’t look at him. She woldn’t look at his face, and his neatly trimmed moustache, and his lovely dark eyes. She wouldn’t look at the lines on his face he was way too young to have, and the loneliness embedded in each of them she knew could be found in the silver strands of her hair, too. Helena figured he was not a man who hid things, just like he was not hiding the fact he was looking at her—she could feel his eyes burning on the back of her head, and she couldn’t believe the way he was staring at her. Looking at her like that.

It was how dark his eyes were, the problem. The way he could make someone—her—feel seen from the inside out.

“Coffee’s fine,” he said, forcing his gaze away. He looked outside, where in the distance, still filtered like a dream, he could see clouds gathering, a distant storm that seemed to have followed him there. Javier’s father had taught him to predict exactly when a storm would hit just by the location of lightning, so that he could prepare the ranch in time to brace for it.

He’d never been very good at it. He thought that lightning, like love, was never ruled by logic. Accidents happened, and they always would.

He looked at Helena again, her back still to him—she was watching the coffee brew, her arms crossed, fingers tapping nervously against her elbow. Javier looked at her and thought she was familiar to him—he’d thought that ever since getting her letter, the one tucked next to his heart, but to see her there in front of him, flesh and bones and long hair and clear eyes, really settled it for him.

He’d heard about it happening to other men—his friend Steve being one of them. Going about their business one minute and suddenly they found themselves without hope. They fell in love so hard they never got up off their knees again.

He’d never thought it would happen to him. Javier was all business—he always had been. It was his need to figure out the why of things, of people. Money, love, fury—those were the motivations he found usually, in his line of work. James Hawkins fell in the money category, of that he was sure, with perhaps a sprinkle of fury in the shape of his ring marked on the bodies.

Javier had been looking for that ring at Hawkins’ place—he’d seen it in pictures, read it in descriptions, remembered it from the few times his path had trailed along Hawkins’, because Laredo wasn’t that big of a place, and faces grew familiar over time—when the letter had arrived.

Crumpled and torn in one corner, the flap already opened, Javier had looked at it and thought he should’ve taken it directly to the office. But an open letter was hard to resist, even for someone like Javier, who had resisted a whole lot in his life. But that letter was something else, something tempting, and he gave into it.

He never regretted it.

He had just sat there, on the patio of the house of the man he was looking for, and read the letter Helena Goode had written to her sister. When he was done, he’d read it again. And again. And twice more midair, and then while he had his lunch, and once more when he’d settled in his hotel room. Even when the letter was folded back into its envelope and stored in the pocket of his jacket, the words came back to haunt him—whole sentences written by Helena forming in his mind.

Javier had been close to people, and while he didn’t have that many friends he was content—he’d even almost gotten married after high school, although that’s a topic no one ever brought up, not even himself. But he’d never once felt like he’d known anyone the way he felt he knew the woman who had written that letter. It felt like someone had ripped a piece of his soul out of him and formed into words. Words he was so taken by he wouldn’t have heard, seen, or felt a thing as long as he was reading them.

I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm, or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen.

Javier wanted to tell her that he saw her. Right there in front of him, and even when she was not there, when he had not the faintest clue what she looked like, he saw her. He saw her standing, moving the coffee pot from the fire. He saw her pouring the coffee in three mismatched cups. He saw her hands shaking as she did so.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she recoiled as if startled by his voice.

“I think I’m going to sit down,” Helena said, casually, as if she didn’t seem about to collapse.

Still she brought two of the cups over, almost spilling the contents of one, and collapsed onto the chair opposite Javi with a shuddering sigh, her cheeks flushed, her chest fluttering. She wondered if drinking coffee would be a good idea at that moment, still feeling as if her heart might explode, but needed something to keep herself busy, so she brought the cup to her mouth and gulped down the scalding drink, burning the roof of her mouth and her lips.

“Why are you here?” she asked then, bitterness coating her tongue. She was used to sugar in her coffee, most times a dash of milk. “I mean, I understood what you told me—about Phoebe’s boyfriend—but why here?”

She saw the man hesitate—he did not strike her as someone who hesitated in anything, but he was pondering her words and how to best respond to her, his lips shifting to draw in a breath, and then exhale. He reached for his jacket—he still hadn’t taken that off, and with the movement it hugged his shoulders tight, seams pulling uncomfortably—and, from one of the inner pockets, took a piece of paper that he handed to her.

“I mailed that to my sister ages ago,” Helena recognised it immediately—that letter she was so grateful had never reached Phoebe, but also wished it had a little earlier, so she wouldn’t be in that mess. There’s a halo around the moon tonight. I think trouble is coming. I wish you’d get out of there. Come back home. Alone. “You opened it,” she added then, a little baffled.

He hadn’t just opened it. He’d read it. The paper consumed from being folded over and over again, each line marked deeper where it bent, words slightly smudged as if someone had run their fingers over each and every of it.

“It was opened already,” he retorted, justifying. “It must have gotten lost at the post office.”

“But you read it,” the cup was burning her palm, the letter her other hand, her face was burning too under his gaze.

“Maybe a thousand times,” Javier admitted, his voice dropping.

“It was a very personal letter,” she whispered too, feeling the tightness inside her throat and belly and chest grow, and grow, and grow until it was choking her. That had to be what a heart attack felt like. Perhaps she was about to end up on the floor unconscious.

“I know,” the man said, and at last she looked at him.

He saw her but, Javier knew, she saw him too. She could’ve seen how Javier wasn’t sure how far he’d go to cover for someone—he’d never been in that position before, and he despised the way it felt. But he was there, sitting in her kitchen, drinking her coffee, a total stranger on a humid day, wondering if he was going to look the other way because of her. She could see all that—or at least, she hoped.

And then Phoebe came down. Noisy steps down the stairs, announcing her presence to the entire world—she always had that about her, always managed to bring the attention to her, with her lovely strawberry-blonde hair and her long lashes and full lips. Even with the bruises, even with the wounds, even with her fear embedded so deeply into her skin it was painful, Phoebe was beautiful.

Still, Javier focused on Helena, and it wasn’t until her sister stood at her side that he caught a glimpse of her. Night and day, that’s what the aunts called them. He didn’t know, but he would’ve agreed—so starkly different, yet seemingly in tune with each other.

“As I’ve said your sister, I won’t take up much of your time,” Javier cleared his throat, offered his hand to Phoebe as he stood. He missed the feeling of his letter against his body, but Helena was clutching it tight, pressing it against her stomach. “It’s just a couple of questions, routine checks.”

“Of course—agent, is it?” Phoebe’s voice was soft where Helena’s was strong. She took up space just by standing, her arms folded in front of her as she held the third cup that had been on the counter.

“Yes, ma’am—Agent Peña.” Only then did she take his hand, a delicate shake before turning his palm up towards her face, peering down with an interested hum.

“You’ve come a long way just for a couple of routine questions, Agent Peña.” Her thumb ran along one of the lines on his palm, tracing it with a feather-like touch. Her brows knitted for a moment, confusion locking on her features (eyes darting towards her sister) before she shook herself. “I see here it’ll be worth the trip,” she mused, tapping his palm.

“Right.” Again he cleared his throat, and pulled his hand back. “When was the last time you saw James Hawkins?”

“Ah, a man of action,” Phoebe scoffed lightly, then shrugged. “Couple of weeks, just before I came here. It just wasn’t working anymore.”

“Is he responsible for that?” he asked, gesturing towards her face, the bruises.

“As I’ve said, it wasn’t working anymore,” she tipped her chin up, leaned with her hip against Helena’s chair. “I have no idea where he might be. If a man hits me, he only does it once,” Helena’s breath hitched, her grip on both the cup and letter tightening.

“What about the car? The one with the Texas plate—it’s registered in his name,” Javier thought he might as well reveal all his cards from the beginning. Neither sister was stupid, but still Phoebe was lying—he knew she was. He had seen that look before, countless times: people who are guilty of something think they can hide it by not looking at you. Or looking at you too much.

Helena wasn’t looking at him anymore—again. Phoebe was staring him down. But Helena wasn’t looking at him, because she knew, she was certain, that could not lie to the man. She feared her eyes would betray her too, like her heart was doing, like she imagined her words would if she were to say anything more.

“I took it when I ran,” Phoebe said, sighing. “And I know that’s wrong, so you may take it right away—I just needed a way out. That was the fastest.”

She was good, Javier managed to think in that haze-like feeling he’d found himself in since he’d walked into the house. Since he’d seen Helena. Her eyes.

“And you have not heard from him since?” Phoebe shook her head, sipping on her coffee and grimacing—too bitter, too strong. But it helped keep her mind away from the times she had heard from James—in her dreams, nightmares, really; or when she was distracted, and his voice crept into her head; or when she looked in the mirror and his reflection stared back.

“I have not,” she smacked her lips, the taste of the coffee lingering on the tip of her tongue.

“Alright, well,” Javier picked his cup and drank most of the coffee that remained—he liked it that way, black and strong, it reminded him of his father—then went to the sink to rinse the cup. Helena watched him while his back was turned, and almost smiled at the way he let the water slosh from side to side enough to get any residue off before settling it upside down. “If anything comes to mind, I’ll be around a couple of days longer—I’m staying at the Hide-A-Way Motel.”

“Really?” was the first thing Helena said in what felt like ages. Javier turned around—he was just stalling then. He wanted to remain there, with her. He wanted to keep on looking into Helena’s eyes and drown, drown, drown for days. He saw nothing else but her eyes.

“Lady at the car rental desk suggested it—it isn’t half bad,” he shrugged, and smoothed his jacket down. He felt the absence of the letter when he ran his hand across his chest, and the paper did not crinkle under his touch. Helena curled her fingers around her words. “Nice area.”

“It is,” she should know—her shop was one street away from the motel. She’d picked the area with Frankie because of how nice it was, close enough to the park it gave the impression of being around nature, but not so far from town that nobody would walk by the shop.

Phoebe watched the agent and her sister look at each other and frowned—for a moment, what she’d seen on Peña’s palm flashed before her eyes again. A new beginning, a line cut through by something, someone he could not escape. It had been written on his skin since the beginning. Some fates were just guaranteed.

“If I happen to remember anything else, I’ll come around,” Phoebe said, cutting through the crackle of energy that passed from one to the other. It was as if she’d woken them up from a dream, a dream made of only looks and silence. “You can have the car taken away.”

“Great,” he cleared his throat, and forced himself to back away. He knew that if he lingered any longer, he’d never want to leave. It was hard enough already. “Thanks.”

Helena felt like she was losing her mind.

The night before, a ring had appeared around the moon. A halo around the moon was always a sign of disruption—but it was a double ring, all tangled up, anything could happen. Helena didn’t like the thought, and she hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

The sparrow that used to fly each midsummer’s eve into the house on Magnolia Street had come back, out of season, round and round the dining room—her daughters had counted each circle: three. Three meant trouble, it always had. She’d chased it out with her sister, both of them on edge.

And it rained. All night and through the morning, one of her daughters standing by the window looking at the lilacs being hit by drop after drop, tapping her fingers nervously. Emma was looking at the man in their backyard, who stared back at them like from a vision, a nightmare rather than a dream. She was hoping he would go away, but the bad weather did not bother him—he seemed to relish in the black skies and the wild wind, and the rain passed through him. Emma thought—she knew—it was his fault that things were going amiss in the house, even though she didn’t know the extent of it: pipes rusting and the tile floor of the basement turning to dust, nothing in the refrigerator would stay fresh.

Both sets of sisters fought, loud and mean and just like he wanted them to. Emma would’ve liked them all to stop. Helena thought of chopping the lilacs all night long, but had to go to work.

And then there was Javier. Agent Peña, who walked around town and talked to everyone and was always there when she turned around from the counter. Javier, with a cigarette hanging from his lips at every street corner. Always there, always there, always there.

“Fuck!” Helena exclaimed, when the jar she was trying to place on the shelf fell and shattered on the ground, shards of glass flying around her ankles and the contents—curled dried leaves—spilling across the clean floor. “God, give me a break.”

“Are you okay, Lena?” a voice called from the other side of the shop. Helena didn’t have many friends—it came with the Goode name, being shunned away. But Crystal was one of the few who did not shy away, besides being a good employee. “Let me help you.”

“It’s alright, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” she went to gather the glass and leaves, both crunching as she moved the broom across them. “But could you put the kettle on? Maybe some tea will do me good,” even though she craved coffee desperately.

She’d craved coffee ever since she’d met with the agent. Black and bitter. She could smell it in the air around her, no matter which room she walked in, or which street—along with tobacco and more. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life but now felt her fingers itch as if reaching for one.

Crystal obliged without question—she’d learned early on that many things around Helena Goode just did not make sense, and there was no point in prying. It had been that way since they were children. Her mother liked the Goode aunts, said that it was not their fault for more than two hundred years their family had been blamed for everything that went wrong in town.

Some people are just different. Most people are just stupid to be afraid of it.

She remembered their classmates being terrified of the day a bunch of cats followed Helena to school—witchery, they called it. A witch and her familiars. Nasty, nasty creatures, the whole lot of them. But Crystal remembered Helena being kind and poised, she remembered her balanced lunches, and the way she always looked out for her sister. She still did. Why people would think Helena and Phoebe had any evil in them escaped her.

Goode women ignored convention; they were headstrong and willful, and meant to be that way.

“Thank you, Crystal,” Helena said from the kitchenette, throwing away the spoiled merchandise..

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home? I can look after the shop,” but even as she asked, Helena was shaking her head, lips trembling with her deep inhale. “Lena, did something happen?”

“It’s not—” a bell. The shop’s bell. Helena looked up from her mug, the smell of lavender easing her headache a little, and then turned. “I’ll get it.”

He was everywhere, always there, always there, in her shop, too. Helena stood frozen next to the counter and looked at the agent who was looking around—a feeble attempt at not immediately turning towards her, not falling into her eyes right away.

“Yes?” she managed to ask, her throat dry once again. Just by his mere presence.

“I’m afraid I forgot to bring enough toothpaste,” Javier lied. He’d thrown an almost full tube in the bin just that morning—still wasn’t sure why. Maybe because so many people had told him about Helena’s shop, just around the corner. How the woman was the way she was, but her products were amazing.

“You could’ve gone to the market,” she said, but placed her mug down and moved to the shelf anyway. Once she wasn’t looking at him, she managed to exhale again, but still his eyes burned on the back of her head, and she suddenly felt conscious of the fact she probably had forgotten to brush her hair in the morning.

“Yes,” he retorted, and didn’t add anything else. He knew he could’ve, but he didn’t want to. And he could’ve told her it was because so many people had recommended her stuff, or because the shop was closer to his motel. But he didn’t.

“Any allergies?” she asked, moving the stool closer to the shelf.

“No, ma’am.” She paused, one foot up the step as she bit her tongue—just a moment, then she climbed and grabbed a jar, the label scribbled so hurriedly it was unreadable, the dark paste inside a stark contrast with the white paper.

“Charcoal—whitens the teeth,” she moved back down, the counter between them as she handed the product to him—her eyes flickered towards the cigarette that he’d tucked over his ear, shaking her head lightly. “Nasty habit,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

“I’m aware,” Javier chuckled—as he took the jar, he grazed her fingers. Helena pulled back as if she’d been burned, fingertips curling into her palm and pressing harshly. “Does this stuff actually work?” he cleared his throat, turning it in his palm to glance at the label again.

He knew her handwriting. He could read it like the back of his hand. I have this dream of being whole.

“It does,” Crystal called as she walked in from the kitchenette, and Helena leaned over the counter and reached for her mug—anything to keep her hands busy. “See for yourself. On the house.”

“He can’t accept it on the house, Crystal,” she said, moving back. “There’s an investigation ongoing—isn’t that right?” it looked as if she might turn to him while she addressed him, but didn’t. Again.

“That’s right,” Javier cleared his throat, shuffling a little. He was so close to the counter he could feel the edge of it dig into his stomach, and forced himself to look at the other woman. “But are you giving me your word? That it works.”

He was a charmer. Helena knew already—Crystal was just finding out. She wanted to ask what investigation Helena was talking about, what was happening at the house on Magnolia Street that she desperately did not want to go back, and what was happening with the agent so desperately trying to meet her eyes.

“Cross my heart,” she said instead, because she knew this would be another inexplicable moment. She’d made her peace with it. “Swear to God, this woman is a magician. Let me ring you up.”

Helena hid her face with the mug, the dwindling steam turning her cheeks a soft shade of red. At the same time, Javier scoffed lightly.

“Right,” he muttered, reaching for his wallet. “Heard that one before. Thanks.”

It took a moment for Helena to register his words—she was trying so hard to not hear him, to not focus on him, that she didn’t understand what he was saying until he was out of the door, an echo of the bell ringing in her mind.

“Wait, what?” she placed the mug down, looking up at his back behind the glass. “Hold on.”

She shouldn’t have gone after him. She should’ve known better. Helena spent her whole life being vigilant, she spent her whole life relying on logic and common sense, she’d taken care of everything from the moment her parents had died, and then again when Frankie had died—she thought about everything.

She had to, because otherwise how would her kids have made it to fourteen and fifteen?

She had to, because if she stopped thinking about everything, what exactly was she left with? Her thoughts and worries are the only reason she continued to exist, of that she was certain.

Never look back, never change direction, that’s what she had to tell herself. Don’t think about being alone in the dark, or storms or lightning and thunder, or the true love you won’t ever have. Life, she knew, was brushing her teeth and making breakfast for her kids and not letting her mind wander.

But that was a lie—from the beginning Helena had been lying to herself, telling herself she could handle anything: her parents dying, her sister relying on her, her aunts’ reputation, Frankie, Frankie’s death, the spell, the year where everything went grey, her children, and now this. She’d grown tired—she didn’t want to lie anymore. One more lie and she’d be lost. One more lie and she’d never find her way back through the woods.

And it’s all because of him.

“What did you mean?” she stopped abruptly when he did, taking a step back when he turned to look at her. She tugged her cardigan close, the wind whipping the ends around along with her hair, and tipped her chin up with her arms crossed, finally, finally looking back at him. “Heard that one before?” she echoed. “Is that why you were at my shop?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s because I needed toothpaste, and I’m just around the corner,” she scoffed lightly, shuffling her feet. “But actually, yes, I heard a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make sense at all, so I’d like to understand.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job,” he retorted. “Because, seriously, I have heard it all. A family of witches, a curse, your own husband—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, and for a moment Javier recoiled, saw the truth in the words of all the people who had warned him off Helena Goode. With her hair dancing in the wind, and her cheeks still red, and her eyes oh-so-clear, like a storm incoming, he understood. “Do not bring Frankie into this.”

“Hard not to, when it’s everything this town talks about,” he took a step forward, her whole body seizing up. “Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? People tell me you’re here cooking up placenta bars, that you’re into devil worship.”

“You think I don’t know that?” her voice was lower, and pulled him closer. “All my life, this town—I know what they say about me, I know what everybody thinks.” She wanted to move away—she wanted to lean in. She remained still. “All my life I wanted nothing more than to be seen as normal, but that’s just not the way it is. I don’t have a ranch house or a white picket fence, I don’t have a husband that’s alive anymore, I don’t have—” she cut herself off, unsure as to why she was so ready to pour her heart out to a stranger in the middle of the street. “I don’t see how that’s my fault.”

“I never said it was,” Javier spoke softly, a gentleness that felt foreign on his tongue but rolled off easily when he looked at her.

“Then why are you here?” her chin was still up, but she was looking down at her nose, careful to avoid his gaze—it made him believe that she, too, felt that tug in the pit of her stomach. She was just better at controlling it.

Your letter, he almost said. You.

“James Hawkins,” he replied instead. “A guy like that doesn’t simply vanish.”

“And would that be such a big loss?” she scoffed, tightening her arms around herself. “A guy like that—wouldn’t it be so much better if he did just vanish?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and felt his hands move before he could control himself. “But I made a vow, and I have a job—” his fingertips grazed her arm, and at that she pulled back.

“As do I,” one hand moved to the point he’d brushed, holding the spot as if it hurt, tight against her chest. “So unless you have something you want to ask me, Agent Peña, I’d rather get back to it.”

“Are you or your sister hiding James Hawkins?”

“He’s not here, no.”

“Did you or your sister kill James Hawkins?” he asked, and her eyebrows arched.

“Oh, yeah. Couple of times,” Javier sighed, and forced himself back, his hand now itching for his cigarette. “Is that all?” he put it between his lips, ignoring the frown forming on her brow.

“Yeah, sure,” he didn’t light it up just yet, but reached for the lighter nevertheless—he missed the letter in his pocket whenever he touched it. “Bye, Helena.”

He watched her go back inside the shop with her shoulders pulled back tight, steps unsteady, and only when the door was closed, the echo of the bell ringing in his ears, did he light up the cigarette.

She watched him go away from inside the shop, with his steps matching the thundering of her heart.

“What is wrong with you?” Phoebe watched her sister kneel on the ground, pruning shears in hand and purple flowers all around her, on her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of seeing these every time I look out of the window,” her breath was short—the flowers seemed endless, she cut and cut and cut and still they were there. “And the smell—I hate it. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Lena—Lena! It’s just flowers!” although Phoebe knew it was not entirely true. Mostly, she ignored the lilacs, and everything that was underneath it. Especially what was underneath it. “Stop it, before you hurt yourself.”

“Oh, now you’re thinking about that?” Helena dropped the shears and stood, the soil on her jeans already a stain she wouldn’t manage to remove. “Now that there’s a cop after us? Now you think I might hurt myself?”

“So what? We stick to our story. No body, no crime,” she gestured towards the lilacs. “There is not a single reason why he should think we’ve done something, unless you give him one.”

“But we did, Phoebe. You understand that, don’t you?” she hissed, walking up to her sister. “We fucked up, and somehow I’m still the one who’s cleaning up your messes,” Phoebe’s eyes widened, mouth set in a thin line. “I’m sick of this.”

“I never asked you to, I never—”

“Enough lies, Pheebs. Aren’t you tired?” Helena smelled like the lilacs, and her headache was back, stronger and stronger as the storm approached from the horizon. “I know I am. I’m so tired of lying.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe had lowered her voice, and was looking at her sister as if she could not recognise her. “Lena—you can’t do that,” even as she said it, Helena walked past her, brushing her hands down the front of her jeans. “You can’t go to him,” she said, following her. “We’ll both be sitting in jail if you do. What about the girls? Why are you even thinking about it now?”

Helena wasn’t sure why. She knew she’d woken up smelling cigarettes and coffee again, and the lilacs, and the nightmare still clinging to her eyelids, making her feel unrested as she had for the past days. Weeks. She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew is that her throat hurt from all the lies she’d told Javier, and she wanted to come clean, to tell all—she wanted someone to listen to what she had to say and really hear her, the way no one ever had before. So she’d gone to work, and back home to cut the flowers, and as sundown approached she would go out for Javier.

“Don’t tell me about the girls now, when I spent half my life thinking only about them,” she said loudly, marching in and out of room after room of the house, grabbing things she wasn’t even sure she needed. “And you? You only ever thought about yourself. You left me here. You lived your life. And you dragged me back in just to save your ass.”

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Phoebe screamed too, from the middle of the house, following the noises of her sister as she stomped around. “I lived my life and you hate me for it!”

“I don’t hate you, Phoebe.”

“No, no, sure—you’re unbelievable. You spent all your life trying to be normal and fit in, but you never will! You know we’re different, and so are your girls,” Helena stopped abruptly to look at her.

“That’s twice now—you leave them out of this,” she said with a scowl so similar to that of their mother’s, if only either of them could remember her.

“All my life I’ve wished I had half your talent—you’re wasting yourself, Lena,” Phoebe cried, and for a moment she sounded just like the little girl who had just gotten to the aunts’ house. “And now you—what? You’re gonna turn yourself in? Or get down on your knees and beg for mercy?”

“If I’ll have to, yes,” Helena said without a second thought, fixing her sister with a look. “I’m done.”

They both measured themselves harshly, always had, as if they had never been anything but those two plain little girls, waiting at the airport for someone to claim them.

If you go against what you believe in, you’re nothing. That was another thing his father liked to say—and Javier knew he was right. So he was going to stick to his plan: fly back home and give up the case to the poor bastard who was supposed to get it from the beginning, had it not been for the letter. He was going to go back to work as usual, forget about the whole ordeal, forget about grey eyes and dark hair and his own heart.

Heart, heart, heart beating to the sound of the knocking on his door, that for a moment he’d thought to be rain pattering on the ground and the roof, such the strength of the storm was. But he heard it, and when he opened the door, Helena was there, shivering and looking up at him.

“You want a confession?”

In his line of work, Javier had been trained to notice things, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Part of the reason was that he’d been imagining Helena everywhere he went. So maybe it was just an illusion, a desire of his heart turned into a vision.

“What?” he stepped aside and, water falling from her hair, Helena walked in, trailing mud behind.

“You want a confession, don’t you? It’s why you’re still here,” she was shaking, arms crossed over her chest with wet clothes clinging to her. “We killed James. Technically, I killed James. I used belladonna.”

“I know,” Helena frowned, moved the hair out of her face with trembling hands.

“You know?” she sniffled, part from the cold part from the smell attacking her nostrils—coffee and tobacco and, surprisingly, food.

“I found some in the car—saw the same thing in your shop and had it analyzed,” he closed the door, careful to not turn the lock, leaving her a way out as he moved back towards the kitchenette. “His ring was in there, too. There was blood on it. Have you had any dinner?”

“I—what is this, some sort of joke?” she asked, slightly out of breath, and stepped in his direction. Javier scoffed, his back to her as he shook his head a little.

“Far from it,” he muttered, turning the stove off. Still, he didn’t move to look at her—if he did, he wouldn’t be able to say what he had to. He could feel her shiver, just a few steps from him, and it took everything in him to not reach over and grab her and hold her close. “But I have no idea what to do from here. I can’t say that I’m sorry Hawkins is gone, and I can’t—”

“Javier—” he exhaled—it was the first time she said his name, and he gripped the counter with both hands as he closed his eyes. Through the rain, and the soil, and the smoke in his room, he could smell lilacs and that same scent that had clung to the letter, which had bled onto his fingers each time he reread it.

“I was gonna turn over the case,” she held her breath at his words—he heard the light hiccup as her lips sealed, and slowly turned, though his gaze remained lowered. “I can’t say I’m impartial anymore—I can pretend, but I’m not. I no longer can tell what’s right and what’s wrong and you—you came here, and what did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was small, and Javier knew she was looking at him—the roles had switched, he could feel her gaze burning across his skin. “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’m tired—of lying, of hiding, of those fucking flowers,” she sniffled, and from the corner of his eyes he could see her rubbing her arms. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure it’s because of you, and I can’t stand it—because I know I’ll get hurt, and my sister will get hurt, and my children, too.”

“Then why,” his voice had dropped slightly, and he took one more step forward, looking up at last—they were standing so close now, heat radiating off of him and clinging to her chilling bones, “are you here, Helena?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her hands seeking him before she could even realise. “Maybe this,” her letter was almost destroyed, wet and crumpled as she held it between them.

Fear or loneliness—she wasn’t sure she could distinguish them anymore. When the deathwatch beetle had started ticking for Frankie, then she’d been afraid. When she’d stopped speaking and seeing colours for a year, and her children had been by themselves, then she’d been afraid. When she was young, and she sneaked down the stairs with her sister to see what the aunts where up to, then she’d been afraid. In that moment, she was terrified.

And lonely. She’d never felt more alone or lonely before in her life. She wished she could’ve believed in love’s salvation, but truth was desire had been ruined for her. She wished she’d never spied on the aunts’ and seen their customers crying and begging and making fools of themselves. She’d become love-resistant because of that and, with her sister, sitting on the roof of the house, they’d wished to look up at the stars and not be afraid of it.

But, just like trouble, love came in unannounced and took over before she’d had a chance to reconsider or even think about it��Frankie first, and now—

Amas Veritas—she thought about it again, looking into Javier’s dark eyes. He will hear my call a mile away—she’d been just a child, so stupid, thinking that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, to play with. But real love, she’d learned, she was learning, was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.

She’d learned that with Frankie, and now—

“Oh, don’t,” she whispered when Javier’s hand brushed along her arms, foregoing the letter—and moved closer to him, pulled by gravity, by forces she couldn’t begin to control. “Javi—”

He believed he was going to cry—because she was saying his name again, soft and gentle and like she’d known it all her life, and his hands were tracing a path up her arms like he knew exactly the shape of her, and trying to learn it by memory all over again.

He wasn’t even sure that was not the case. Perhaps a part of him knew her already, always had.

He had stumbled into love, of that he was certain, and was stuck there. Javier was used to not getting what he wanted, he’d learned to deal with it, but with Helena in front of him he couldn’t help but wonder if that had only been because he’d never wanted anything too badly. He did now.

“I just do this,” he said, voice sad and deep and causing the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on edge as he leaned closer, towards the hand she was offering to him like in prayer, and she brushed his cheek as he sighed. “Pay no attention,” he said, but she did. How could she not?

He was there, and she shifted toward him as if to brush her hand along his face, but instead ended up with her arms looped around his neck, his own wrapped around her, holding her closer.

And Helena was terrified, because suddenly she wanted whatever he was promising her, with his lips so close and words so soft she told herself don’t listen, but she couldn’t, because whispers of I’ve been looking for you forever inched their way underneath her skin, warmed by his hands. She wanted to get lost—she, who couldn’t function without directions, needed it. Him.

Everything she did those days was so unlike her usual self that when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window behind Javier’s shoulder, she couldn’t recognise herself. Looking back at her was a woman who could’ve fallen in love if she’d let herself, a woman who didn’t stop, not even when Javier moved her hair from her neck, the wet locks sending a shiver down her spine that only intensified as the man bowed his head a pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat.

What good would it do her to get involved with someone like him? She wondered—because the last time she did, she loved so much she got hurt to the point a part of her had forever vanished. Or so she had thought, because with Javier’s lips brushing her skin, the light tickle from his moustache making her eyelids droop, she could’ve believed something had come back alive behind her ribs. She suddenly felt like she had to press a hand down against her chest to make sure her heart wouldn’t escape her body.

“Helena—” he whispered, his arms tight around her—the droplets of rain clung to his lips, the taste of her flooding his senses, overpowering everything else. She sighed again, a shudder running down her spine, unsure if it was from his voice or the cold settling in her bones.

Although, if she were to be honest with herself, she’d say she wasn’t cold. She was burning, really, Javier’s body so close she could memorise it by touch alone.

“Maybe I’m letting you do this so you’ll stop the investigation, even with my confession,” she said, his head straightening—his nose brushed along her jaw, her cheek, and her eyes remained closed. “Have you thought about that? Maybe I’m so desperate I’d fuck anyone, including you.”

There was a sour taste in her mouth with each cruel word, but she didn’t care—she forced herself to open her eyes, she knew she needed to see the wounded look on his face with each bitter word. She needed to stop it—whatever it was—before she no longer had the option to. Before the freedom she had longed for forever slipped through her fingers, and she was trapped again in pain, just like the women who used to come at the aunts’ back door.

“Helena,” Javier said again, mournful, and she could almost taste her own name falling from his lips. The tobacco, too. Her mouth parted on instinct, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw down towards her chin, brushing her bottom lip. “You’re not like that.”

“Really?” she scoffed lightly, the noise remaining trapped in her throat when she lifted her gaze to his eyes. “You don’t know me. You just think you do.”

“That’s right,” he nodded, and the tip of his nose brushed hers—one tilt of his chin, one tip of her head, and the agony would be over for both of them. But for the moment they were just suspended in time. “I think I do. I do.”

“Let go,” she told Javier, and it sounded almost like a plea. “Let go of me.”

He did. He would’ve done anything she asked of him. Let go, hold tighter, kneel, jump into a fire. All of it. So he let go of her, even if it hurt, both of them taking one step back—her arms immediately wrapped around her middle (an attempt to trap his warmth close to her skin), his hands tingling with the loss of her.

“Helena—” he said once more, her name more and more familiar on his tongue.

“You have your confession, and you have your proof,” each word felt like shreds of glass in her throat, while she looked away forcefully—in the window, her reflection was almost familiar again, still a little wild, but recognisable. “It’s up to you. You know where to find me, once you make a decision.”

“I do,” he repeated, somewhat stunned, his mind reeling. She took one step to the side, heading for the door. “It’s still pouring outside.”

“I know,” she only said, and went nevertheless.

For hours her perfume remained in the room, clinging to him for so long he didn’t even notice the smell of his burned dinner. So long the letter had dried on the floor where it had slipped, enough for him to reread it, again and again until he’d managed to fall asleep.

Helena couldn’t stop thinking about Javier. From the moment she’d walked out of the motel room, he had been all she could think about—on the drive home through the storm, in the warm bath to wash the cold away, doing the dishes, in bed, unable to sleep, dreaming about him while wide awake and in the few hours she’d managed to close her eyes, too. Haunted, just like her sister.

She dreamed of the desert, an apple tree in a yard that wasn’t hers and bloomed without water, and horses that ate apples from that tree and ran faster than all the others, and a man who was taking a bite from a pie she’d made, bound to be hers for life. She’d woken up smelling apple pie and cinnamon, coffee and tobacco.

So it was no surprise when Javier showed up that same morning. She almost heard him coming. Yet she couldn’t face him right away, so she hid inside, behind her sister, still skittish, behind her daughters, still confused, behind the pretence of making breakfast.

“He’s staying!” Sophia, the eldest of her daughters, announced, running from the garden to somewhere past the living room—Helena sighed, eyes closing. “Aunt Pheebs! He says he’s staying!”

Helena wondered if, without the feeling of Javier’s hands still on her, she would’ve wondered why Phoebe would care whether or not the man investigating them was staying at their place for breakfast. She wasn’t even sure whether she was glad he was staying or just nauseated.

“Can I help?” Emma, much quieter than her sister, stepped at her mother’s side and pointed at the stove, a half-burned pancake smoking on the pan. Helena threw the failed attempt away and nodded, forcing a smile onto her face—she knew the man was in the room with them, she could feel him watching the two of them from the entrance, could see him in her mind as he leaned against the doorway.

“Be careful,” she murmured, taking one step aside, then another, and more, her own steps echoed by Javier’s. They met halfway across the kitchen, her still not looking at him while his eyes never once left her.

“’Morning,” he hummed, shoulders brushing—Helena moved aside, ignoring the sharp pain in her hip when she bumped into the table.

“Good morning,” she cleared her throat, brushing her hands down the front of her shirt—and then lowered her voice. “Why are you here?”

“You told me I knew where to find you once I’d made my decision,” he replied, matching her tone.

“And have you?” her hands began going numb as she clenched them in fists at her sides. She could still feel Javier looking at her.

“I’m going back to Laredo,” her gaze snapped in his direction, so fast the whole room spun as she inhaled sharply, holding her breath. “I thought you should have this. After all, it belongs to you.”

It took her a moment to manage to focus on the paper he was handing her—her letter, now ruined, a half-destroyed piece of paper she’d poured her heart over, more than once. When she picked it up, their fingers brushed just like the first time, and Helena almost cried out in pain.

“Now, something smells like it’s burning,” she could see the strain in his neck as he turned away from her, looking at Emma. One more moment and then he walked ahead. “Need a hand?”

“I was trying to flip it,” Emma mumbled, a pout forming on her lips that made her look more like her mother. Javier chuckled, settling at her side. “Do you know how?” she asked suddenly, a hopeful note in her voice Helena hadn’t heard in a while. Her chest constricted, watching the man smirk and roll up his sleeves.

“I absolutely know how to,” he nodded with a theatrical gesture. “Step aside and observe.”

Amas Veritas, dancing in Helena’s head as she watched Javier, fitting so well in her kitchen, flip pancakes in the air and making the young girl laugh. It had been a while since Emma had laughed like that, and for a moment she was her soft-voiced and shy 14-year-old again, who liked to look at the stars and sleep with her head on Helena’s lap.

But then her shoulders tensed, her whole position shifting, taking one step away from Javier to turn towards her mother, even though her eyes went past her. Helena knew, without having to turn right away, that something was terribly wrong.

“Mom,” Sophia came running in, breathless, and immediately clung to her arm, tugging harshly. “Something’s wrong, mom,” the panic in her voice settled in Helena’s bones, mixing with her own, and she was quick to push her daughter behind her back, stepping away from the door. “It’s aunt Pheebs, she—”

“It’s not her,” Emma’s voice was grave, so unfitting for a young woman, and she inched closer to her mother, too. Which left Javier at the stove, looking at the three of them with confusion and alarm. “It’s him, it’s the man of the lilacs.”

“What?” perplexed, Javier took a step forward, only to be stopped by Helena’s extended arm, while she pushed all three of them behind her just as Phoebe walked into the kitchen. Accompanied. “What the hell—” Javier exhaled, reaching for his belt.

“Agent Peña!” James exclaimed, translucent as he came into the light. Javier’s head started spinning as he stared at him, then at Phoebe Goode, her arm trapped in his vice grip made of fingers of smoke, then back at him. “Long time no see. How’s Laredo? I think I’m starting to feel homesick.”

As James spoke, Helena had started stepping backwards, her gaze never leaving Phoebe—the two sisters were looking at each other, guilt and fear and resolution in their gazes that no one but the younger girls could notice, the familiarity an ache on the palms of their hands as they held each others’, keeping close, keeping behind their mother.

“Helena,” Javier called, his gaze unwavering as he took hold of his gun. “You said he was dead.”

“Yes,” she nodded, and for a split second, Phoebe’s eyes showed surprise.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he retorted, and James scoffed.

“You’ve all spent weeks pretending I’m not here—well, almost all,” he tilted his head, gaze settling onto Emma, and smiled. Helena pushed her daughter into her back, the girl hiding her face against her shoulder, clinging tighter onto her sister’s hand—Sophia held her chin high, squeezing back. “It’s gotten boring.”

“Then leave,” in Phoebe’s voice there was all the rage of the Goode women before her. But then James turned, his grip tighter on her arm, and Helena watched her sister’s legs tremble. “Just leave us alone,” she pleaded, eyes widening.

“No,” James chuckled, pulling her closer—Javier could see the strain in the woman’s shoulder, her face contorting in pain, and could not wrap his head around it. James Hawkins did not look real, or at least not real enough to hurt them. Still, he felt uneasy, even more so when he spoke again, his head lowered next to Phoebe’s. “I’m feeling very into sisters right now,” his gaze flickered towards Helena, too, a grin taking over his pale face.

Javier wasn’t looking at her, but he felt Helena straighten her back, look at him, and then turn. He heard her whisper to her daughters, possibly holding them closer, to run into their aunts’ room and be mindful of the salt. He heard two sets of steps backtrack, and watched James’ face shift into disappointment.

“Oh, Lena, Lena, Lena—you really do take the fun out of anything, don’t you?” he took one step forward, dragging Phoebe with him—the woman cried weakly, trying and failing to escape his hold.

“Hey,” only now that the kids weren’t in the room did Javier lift his gun—although he was sure it would do nothing to stop the man, and his widened grin only confirmed it. “Let go of her.”

“And you,” James groaned, even as Javier placed himself between him and Helena, “you never, ever learned when to just give up,” the two men looked at each other—Javier’s gun lifting, James’ hand reaching out for him. “You should let the adults—”

Before the sentence was over, James screamed, letting go of Phoebe. Helena ignored Javier’s surprised gasp in favour of her sister tumbling to the side, quick to reach her before she could even touch the floor.

The same floor where a star shimmered, catching the sunlight. Javier carried it with him everywhere he went, in remembrance of his father, the star-shaped badge he’d lived by for ages before retiring. Javier did not believe in luck, good or bad that it was, but he did believe in reminders: of doing the right thing, always. Of never losing sight of who he was.

He picked it up right as James straightened, a hole in his near-invisible hand that echoed its shape. Without thinking, without considering, Javier held it up right as the other man—or whatever was left of him—screamed in his direction, unintelligible words that probably would’ve resounded like threats, had Javier been able to hear a single one.

Instead, he stared as the figure vanished, with one longer scream and a curse, the air darkening in front of his eyes and then dissipated into nothing, leaving him to look at the corridor that brought to the stairs, a ringing in his ears.

“It’s okay, Pheebs,” Helena’s voice slowly brought him back, words repeated soothingly as she still held her sister. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” reassuring, in spite of her trembling voice. “I need you to call the aunts, Phoebe. I need you to tell them what happened. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe was still saying, her eyes unfocused though she looked up to Helena.

“I know, I know—but can you?” Javier could almost see it—nights spent with Helena reassuring her sister, hidden under thick blankets or on the rooftop of the house beneath a sky full of stars. “Please, I need to go to the girls.”

“Oh, the girls,” Phoebe exhaled, and released the grip on her arm. “Of course. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Helena didn’t wait, though she lingered enough to rest a kiss to Phoebe’s temple, before standing and walking out of the kitchen. It took Javier a moment to come to his senses, and then he went straight after her.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his mind still reeling, forgetting for a moment the effect he had on her. “Was that him? Did I kill him?”

“Yes, and no—technically,” Helena didn’t stop, heading for the stairs she used to sit on when she was a kid to spy on the aunts. “It was his spirit, which you banished. But I told you, I killed him. And you can do whatever with this information after, but right now—”

“Hold on just a goddamn second, all right?” Javier grabbed her arm, pulling her right back against him. A split second in which they looked each other in the eyes, and all that had happened the night before came back, all that had been left unsaid before hit them square in the chest, and in that split second, they could’ve almost forgotten all else. “What are you talking about? His spirit? I came here to bring in the bad guy—generally, that’s what I do, and now you’re telling me about spirits?”

“Is that why you came here, Javier?” she stood her ground, her arm still in his hold. “Be honest.”

“Honesty,” he scoffed. “I thought I did—and then you were here, and your letter—maybe that’s what brought me here. Maybe it was you. And I’m all mixed-up about that.”

Helena was looking at him with that storm still brewing in her eyes, and Javier felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him. His hand fell from her upper arm, down her elbow and wrist, brushing the palm of her hand. She took a slow breath in, lips trembling.

“The reason you’re here and you don’t know why is because I sent for you,” she said, quietly.

“I know why—”

“You don’t,” she interrupted him. “When I was a little girl, I worked a spell so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldn’t possibly exist,” she shook her head, while his fingers wrapped around her limp hand. “But you do.”

“So,” he scoffed, “you’re saying that what I’m feeling is just one of your spells?”

“Yes, it’s not real,” it sounded like it pained her to say, even though Javier knew she was telling the truth. Or at least thought she was. “And if you stay, I wouldn’t know if it was because of the spell, and you wouldn’t know if it was because I don’t want to go to prison.”

“All relationships have problems,” he muttered, and she gave a small, unamused laugh.

“I thought I loved Frankie, but that was another spell too,” for a split second, she held his hand back, squeezing her fingers around his to the point it hurt. “Still, you don’t want to know what happens if you stay. We’re all cursed. You saw that,” and just like that, she let go of him.

“Curses only have power when you believe in them, Helena, and I don’t,” clenching his fists, Javier stepped back from her. “You know what? I wished for you too.”

Helena knew. He’d told her the night before, his lips etching each word onto her skin.

But she watched him go nevertheless, glad he managed to take the steps she couldn’t.

Helena was tired. She had been tired since lying on the floor next to her sister, watching as she was being consumed from inside. But all of that was over. She’d stared at the letter from Laredo for days after that, keeping it stored with the other one written in her own hand that carried the mark of both her touch and his.

She did her best to not think of him. It was near impossible.

James Hawkins’ cause of death was accidental, read the letter. His body was identified by jewellery in the ashes of a body found in Laredo, right by his property. The same ring he’d told her was in his car, the car she’d driven, the car she’d spilt belladonna in.

Sincerely, Javier Peña, special investigator.

“I don’t think you’ll find him there, Lena,” Phoebe said softly, when she caught her reading the letter once more. “But somewhere else, perhaps.”

For days, she let the words linger. Days turned into weeks turned into months, his absence like an emptiness into her chest. She’d almost convinced herself it would pass. That, with time, that too would pass—just another pain, just another absence. She could deal with it. She could.

And then Javier was there, in her backyard, or at least that was what she thought she was seeing, because it couldn’t be. How could he be there, when he was in her dreams just that night?

“What would you do, Pheebs?” she whispered, her heart beating so loud she wouldn’t be surprised if everybody else could hear.

“What wouldn’t I do, for the right man?” Phoebe whispered in return, gently pushing her forward with a wide smile. “This is not the aunts’, this is the two of you.”

All the while, Javier looked at them, standing perfectly still like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do, one of his hands half-raised as if in greeting but without waving, the other buried deep within his pocket. He looked at them, and watched Phoebe quickly lead the girls away even when they tried to run to him, and then Helena walk in his direction.

“A love that even time will lie down and be still for,” he said as a way of greeting, once they were standing one in front of the other. “Ever since I went back, time hasn’t felt real, because you weren’t there. And maybe you still believe it’s for a spell you did as a child, or your aunts’ fault—”

“How do you know about the aunts?” it was hard not to smile when he fidgeted like that.

“Your sister told me,” he returned, softly. “Your sister called.”

“And you’re here,” she said, a half-step forward in his direction.

“I’m here,” he nodded, moving the hand out of his pocket and reaching for her tentatively. “I’m here because I know this is real. No gimmick, just—”

“Love?” she suggested, and the glint in her eyes reminded him of the moon itself.

“Love,” he repeated, their fingers interlocking. “Helena, I mean all of it. I’ll even quit smokin’ if—”

She kissed him, plain and simple. Pulled his hands so that he was stumbling forward and caught his lips with hers, gentle, slow. She kissed him, and as Javier held her, he felt like he’d finally gone home. She kissed him, and felt that empty space in her chest filling with the taste of coffee and tobacco.

Can love travel back in time and heal a broken heart?

There were some things, after all, that Helena Goode knew for certain:

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Plant lavender for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.

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mcrdvcks · 7 days

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Sweet Dreams - Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: After celebrating Thanksgiving for the first time, Logan and Alexandria go on a simple reconnaissance mission.

Word Count: 13.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: hello! i was going to post this yesterday but it was my birthday (i turned 20, pls i don't know how i made it this far) so i was able to relax. but here we are!

i'm not sure if i'm going to post until around thursday/friday since i have two midterms, and it's only the FOURTH WEEK of classes. anyways, enjoy :)

TW: blood, violence, slight allusion to torture

Series Masterlist - Chapter 3 → Chapter 5

AO3 Link For Chapter

November had rolled around and so had a holiday called Thanksgiving. They were given part of the week off, Wednesday through Sunday, to celebrate.

As far as she knew, or what was told to her, the holiday was on Thursday.

Alexandria, Jean, Kitty, Scott, Jubilee and a few other students were sitting in the common area. Currently Scott, Kurt, Bobby, and Kitty were playing a game on the TV called Mario Kart. Alexandria had no idea what the game was, but they all seemed pretty into it.

She leaned closer to Jean, “what exactly is Thanksgiving?”

Jean looked up from where she was lounging on the couch, a smile spreading across her face. “Thanksgiving is an American holiday that celebrates giving thanks for the good things in life. Traditionally, it's about coming together with family and friends to enjoy a big meal.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the big meal?”

“It usually includes things like roast turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and pie—pumpkin pie is pretty popular,” Jean explained, as she glanced over at the TV where the Mario Kart race was heating up.

“So, it’s basically a feast?” Alexandria asked, trying to piece it all together.

“Pretty much,” Jean confirmed. “It’s also a time for people to reflect on what they’re thankful for. It’s not just about the food, but about spending time with the people you care about.”

Alexandria nodded, absorbing the information. “But… why? Can’t you do that any day?”

Scott, who had just won a race and handed his controller to Ben, or as some called him, Match, sat in between Alexandria and Jean. He placed an arm around both of their shoulders. “Thanksgiving was a dinner between the Plymouth colonists and Native Americans back in the 1600’s. But now it’s more of just an excuse to eat a lot.”

She nodded again, side-eying the arm around her shoulder. Alexandria looked over at Jean and noticed Scott was casually rubbing Jean’s shoulder as he cheered Kurt on.

She wondered what that meant, and why Jean started to blush faintly. Kitty broke her out of her thoughts. “Wanna play?”

Alexandria glanced warily at the controller, “I don’t know how. I’ve never played,” she paused, hoping she was going to use the right term, “video games before.”

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “It’s easy! Here, I’ll show you.”

She took the controller from Alexandria’s hands and began to explain the basic controls. “So, this button makes your character go, and this one makes them jump. You use this stick to steer.”

Alexandria nodded, trying to keep up. “And what does this do?” she asked, pointing to another button.

“That’s the item button. You get power-ups during the race,” Kitty said. “They help you get ahead or mess with other players.”

Alexandria took the controller back, her grip tentative. She glanced over at the TV screen where the game was already in progress. The colors and movement were dizzying. “Okay, I think I get it.”

Jean gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’s all about having fun. Just jump in whenever you’re ready.”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before pressing a few buttons. The character on the screen wobbled a bit before straightening out. “This is… not as complicated as I thought.”

Kitty laughed. “Exactly! You’re doing great. Just remember, you don’t need to win, just try not to crash too much.”

As the game started, Alexandria tried to keep up. The characters whizzed around the track, and she struggled to steer properly. The other players were pretty focused on the game, so Alexandria mostly kept to herself, trying not to get in the way. Her character crashed into a wall, and she muttered under her breath, “not great.”

“Hey, you’re doing better than I did my first time,” Scott said. “It’s all about practice.”

Alexandria managed a small smile. “I guess that makes sense.”

Jubilee, who had been watching from the side, chimed in. “Want some tips? I’ve been playing this game forever. I can show you how to use items better.”

“That’d be great,” Alexandria said, looking over at her.

Jubilee leaned in and started explaining strategies for using power-ups and avoiding obstacles. “Just remember to use your items strategically. Don’t waste them.”

Alexandria tried to follow the advice, and gradually, she started to get the hang of it. She wasn’t winning, but she wasn’t crashing as much either.

After a few rounds, Kitty noticed that Alexandria was starting to look more comfortable. “You’re doing awesome! See? I knew you’d catch on.”

Alexandria chuckled. “Thanks. It’s actually kind of fun.”

“Glad to hear it!” Kitty said. “It’s always nice to introduce someone new to something we enjoy.”

Kurt looked up from his spot on the floor, “how about we take a break and get some snacks?”

Bobby, who sat next to him agreed, “ice cream anyone?”

Everyone got up from their spots and went to the kitchen. Scott and Jean stood up from the couch as Kitty got up from the floor.

“What’s ice cream?” Alexandria asked, what she thought was a completely innocent question.

“You’ve never had ice cream?” Scott exclaimed. “Well, I think we have to rectify that.” He led the way into the kitchen, the three of them following. “We can have everyone choose their favorite ice cream and you can choose your favorite.”

“Like an ice cream showdown?” Jean questioned.

Kitty perked up, “hell yeah!” She high-fived Scott.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Scott said.

Alexandria followed, her curiosity piqued. As they entered the kitchen, she glanced around, taking in the array of snacks and ingredients on the counter. It wasn’t like any kitchen she was used to; it was more like a small, bustling cafeteria.

Scott grabbed a few tubs of ice cream from the freezer. “Alright, here’s the deal. We’ve got a lot of different ice creams. Everyone picks their favorite, and we’ll have an ice cream showdown.”

Jean pointed to the tubs. “I’m going with chocolate. Can’t go wrong with that.”

Kitty grinned. “I’ll take cookies and cream. Classic choice.”

Bobby looked at the tubs thoughtfully. “I’m going for strawberry. Can’t resist the fruitiness.”

Kurt shrugged. “I’ll try vanilla. Simple but solid.”

Everyone else followed suit, until they all had a tub of ice cream in front of them. They each placed a scoop into a bowl so Alexandria could try.

Alexandria stared at the array of ice cream bowls lined up on the counter, each one offering a different flavor. She picked up a spoon and hesitantly dipped it into the chocolate ice cream, taking a small bite. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“This is… really good,” she said, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

Scott grinned. “Told you. Ice cream is a game changer.”

Kitty handed her a bowl of cookies and cream. “Try this one. It’s my favorite.”

Alexandria took a bite, and her smile grew. “This is amazing. I didn’t realize dessert could be so… delightful.”

Bobby passed her a bowl of strawberry. “That’s what makes ice cream great. There’s a flavor for everyone.”

Jean watched Alexandria’s reaction with a pleased expression. “Glad you’re enjoying it. It’s one of those simple pleasures in life.”

Alexandria nodded, savoring the flavors. “I think I understand now. Food can be more than just sustenance.”

“Exactly,” Kurt said, taking a scoop of vanilla for himself. “It’s about enjoyment, and sharing it with others makes it even better.”

Jubilee, who had been waiting for Alexandria to finish, finally got her turn. “Here’s a tip: mix flavors. You might find a new favorite combo.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Mix them?”

“Yep,” Kitty said. “It’s like creating your own custom ice cream experience.”

Alexandria shrugged and scooped a bit of each flavor into her bowl. She took a bite of the mixed flavors and nodded in approval. “Not bad. I can see why people get excited about this.”

Scott, noticing the look of genuine enjoyment on Alexandria’s face, clapped her on the back. “Welcome to the world of ice cream. But before you are completely welcomed you have to try my favorite…” he moved a mint tub closer to Alexandria, “mint chocolate chip.”

The group groaned and booed Scott, with Kitty and Ben threatening to melt it and throw it in the trash.

“Seriously, Scott?” Kitty said, pretending to gag. “Mint chocolate chip? It’s like you’re trying to ruin everything we’ve got going here.”

“Hey, mint chocolate chip has its merits,” Scott defended, holding the tub protectively.

“Maybe if you want your breath to smell like toothpaste,” Ben added, sticking his tongue out dramatically.

Alexandria looked at the tub of mint chocolate chip with curiosity. “Why is this flavor so controversial?”

Jubilee snickered. “It’s a love-it-or-hate-it kind of deal. Personally, I’m with the haters.”

Scott gave her a mock frown. “You all are missing out. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.” He turned to look at Alexandria, “come on, try it. Don’t listen to them it’s great.”

She slowly grabbed a spoonful of the ice cream, a bright mint color with small chocolate chunks before putting it in her mouth.

Alexandria grimaced almost immediately, muttering a “fuck you,” in Russian before coughing.

Jean laughed and patted a pouting Scott on the back, “too bad dude. Your outnumbered, everyone else hates it.”

Alexandria swallowed the ice cream, “Scott, that was the worst American food I’ve had so far.” She shook her head, “I feel like I swallowed a tube of toothpaste.”

As Alexandria grimaced from the mint chocolate chip ice cream, the group erupted in laughter. Alexandria even found herself smiling and laughing along, something she hadn’t done… at all.

Scott, despite his disappointment, chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, alright, maybe it’s not for everyone. But hey, at least you gave it a shot.”

Kitty, still laughing, nudged Alexandria. “See? It’s not so bad to try new things. You might not like everything, but that’s part of the fun.”

---

December

“You want me to take her on a mission?” Logan asked, following Charles down the hall of the bunker.

“A simple reconnaissance mission, yes.” Charles responded. “She’s done well in the Danger Room scenarios and has yet to get below a 98% average on her training.”

“I’m not a babysitter, Chuck.” Logan said roughly.

“Whoo, someone’s grumpy.” Ororo added, her tone light but with a hint of amusement.

Logan shot her a sidelong glance. “I’m not grumpy. I’m just not thrilled about this mission.”

Charles, who rolled beside them with his usual calm demeanor, didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a simple task, Logan. Just gathering intel. No combat involved. Besides, Alexandria needs more real-world experience.”

“Yeah, and I need to go on vacation,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why not have her tag along with someone else?”

“Because I trust you to keep an eye on her. You’ve shown you can handle more than just brute force. And Alexandria could use someone with your… particular skill set.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow at Charles’ words. “Particular skill set? Or are you just trying to pawn off a job?”

“Both,” Logan muttered an answer for Charles, though there was a begrudging hint of agreement in his voice. “Fine. When’s this thing supposed to go down?”

“Tomorrow morning. Meet me in the briefing room at 0900,” Charles said, turning towards the door of the bunker’s command center. “And try to be patient with Alexandria. She’s new to this world and still finding her footing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, waving him off as he walked away. “Just keep in mind I’m not here to be her mentor. I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.”

Ororo smiled, knowing that despite his rough exterior, Logan did have a protective streak. “She’ll be fine, Logan. She’s tougher than she looks.”

“Everyone’s tough until they’re not,” Logan retorted, heading down the corridor.

---

Later that day, Alexandria was in the Danger Room, her focus intense as she worked through another training simulation. The room was set up like a dense forest, with obstacles and targets scattered throughout. Her movements were swift and precise, a testament to her rigorous HYDRA training. Still, there was a noticeable improvement in her demeanor; she wasn’t as cold or distant as she once was, though her interactions remained guarded.

Logan watched from the observation deck, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t sure what to make of her—she was a mix of everything he didn’t want to deal with, but he’d give her a shot.

After the simulation ended, Alexandria stepped out, her face flushed with exertion. She was greeted by Logan’s steely gaze.

“You’re coming with me tomorrow. We’re doing a reconnaissance mission,” Logan said bluntly.

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “And you’re the one leading this mission?”

“Yeah. I don’t sugarcoat things, and I don’t babysit. So don’t expect any hand-holding.”

She crossed her arms, mimicking his stance. “You do realize I’ve gone on missions of my own, right? Since I was 10. I was HYDRA’s most decorated assassin. Had more kills than the Winter Soldier.”

Logan studied Alexandria with a steely gaze, his expression unreadable as she mirrored his stance. “I get that you’ve got a history,” he said gruffly, “but here, you follow orders and you don’t mess up. Got it?”

Alexandria’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve done more than my share of reconnaissance missions. I understand the importance of not making mistakes.”

Logan grunted. “Yeah? Well, we’ll see how it goes. Don’t think for a second you’re going to impress me by talking up your resume. I’ve seen more than my fair share of ‘decorated’ agents who couldn’t handle the reality of a mission.”

“Your confidence is noted,” Alexandria replied, her tone cool. “Is there anything specific I should prepare for?”

Logan shrugged. “We’re scouting an old facility. Nothing too crazy—just gathering intel. The fewer surprises, the better.”

“Understood,” Alexandria said, her expression softening just a touch. “I’ll be ready.”

Logan nodded, clearly not one for small talk. “Good. I’ll meet you in the briefing room at 0900 tomorrow. Be sharp.”

With that, Logan turned on his heel and headed for the exit. Alexandria watched him go, her mind already racing with thoughts of the upcoming mission.

---

The next morning, Alexandria stood in the briefing room, her usual expression of calm determination firmly in place. Logan arrived a few minutes later, carrying a folder of mission details and maps. He glanced at Alexandria, who was already seated and ready.

“Alright,” Logan said, setting the folder down on the table. “Here’s the rundown. The facility we’re going to was used for research, but it’s been abandoned for a while. We’re looking for any signs of recent activity and any useful intel we can find. Simple enough.”

Alexandria nodded. “Do we have any specifics on what we might encounter?”

“Just the basics,” Logan replied. “Might be some security systems still operational, but nothing that should be too much trouble. Your telekinesis should help with any obstacles.”

“Understood,” Alexandria said, her voice steady. “And what about local security? Any chance of encountering people?”

“Possible, but not likely,” Logan said. “Most of the security would be automated. Keep your senses sharp and be prepared for anything.”

“Got it,” Alexandria said. “When are we heading out?”

“Soon as we’re done here,” Logan said. “Any questions before we start?”

Alexandria shook her head. “No. I’m ready.”

“Good,” Logan said. “Let’s get moving.”

---

The two of them made their way to the Blackbird, the X-Mansion’s sleek jet, and after a short flight, they arrived at the outskirts of the old facility. It was a large, crumbling building surrounded by overgrown vegetation. The air was thick with the smell of decay.

Logan and Alexandria approached cautiously. “Stay alert,” Logan said, scanning the area with a practiced eye. “This place could be booby-trapped.”

Alexandria nodded and focused her senses, her telekinesis subtly scanning the immediate area for any hidden dangers. “Nothing immediate,” she said quietly. “But I wouldn’t let my guard down.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment and led the way inside. The interior of the facility was dark and musty, with dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering through broken windows. The air was cold and stale.

They moved through the corridors with purpose, Logan’s steps heavy and purposeful while Alexandria’s were light and silent. They reached a large, metal door at the end of a hallway. Logan examined it carefully, then turned to Alexandria.

“Think you can get this open?” he asked, nodding at the door.

Alexandria stepped forward and extended her hand, her telekinesis working to manipulate the locking mechanism. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dimly lit room filled with old computer equipment and filing cabinets.

“Looks like a control room,” Logan said. “Check for anything useful.”

Alexandria moved through the room with practiced efficiency, her eyes scanning the room as she began to sift through the papers and files. Logan kept watch, his attention divided between Alexandria and the dark corners of the room.

After a few minutes, Alexandria found a set of folders that looked promising. “These might have something,” she said, holding them up for Logan to see.

Logan walked over and took the folders from her, flipping through them quickly. “These are reports on various experiments. Looks like they were testing something significant here. This might be worth taking back.”

“Agreed,” Alexandria said, glancing at the documents. “Anything else we need to find?”

“Not for now,” Logan said. “Let’s head back and get these analyzed. We’ll follow up if anything else- ”

A clatter from the far side of the building cut Logan off before screams and gunshots echoed through the abandoned facility. Logan's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes narrowing as he and Alexandria moved swiftly toward the source of the noise.

“Stay close,” Logan muttered, his tone rough. Alexandria nodded, her senses already on high alert. The gunshots grew louder, mingling with shouted questions and the occasional burst of laughter.

The pair reached a doorway partially obscured by rubble. Through the gaps, they could see a figure moving with unsettling fluidity, a red and black suit clearly visible. The figure was none other than Wade Wilson, more commonly known as Deadpool.

“Seriously?” Logan growled under his breath. “Wade!”

He turned to face the two of them, “ah!” His hands went to his face, “honey badger! It’s so good to see you and… whoever you are. Must not be fun, right? Constant grunting and berating. I don’t envy you.”

Alexandria blinked in response. It almost seemed like he was saying whatever came into his head. But she had to admit, she liked his bluntness.

“Get the hell out of here.” Logan ordered Wade.

He tsked in response, “no can do. Interrogating.” Wade waved his gun in the air.

Alexandria's eyes widened as she saw the gold-plated Glock 34 in Wade's hand. She blinked, momentarily thrown by the absurdity of it. But also because it was a really good gun. "Is that a gold-plated Glock 34?"

Wade, still waving the gun around with casual nonchalance, grinned at her. "Bingo! I see you know your weapons. Who knew? I bet you also know the difference between a tuxedo and a tracksuit. Bet you’re great at parties!"

Logan, clearly irritated by Wade's antics, rolled his eyes. "Wade, we don't have time for your nonsense. We’re here on a mission, not to watch you play dress-up with your shiny toys."

Wade sighed dramatically. "Oh, Logan, always so serious. But fine, fine. If you want me to play the bad guy, I’ll just be the bad guy. These guys were having a lovely chat about their old employer's dirty little secrets."

"Yeah, about that," Logan said, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to leave. Now."

Wade looked genuinely thoughtful, scratching his chin beneath his mask. "Hmmm. I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’m just about to find out where the real secrets are hidden. Care to join the party?"

Alexandria glanced at Logan, who looked like he was about to explode. She was having fun. She liked this guy- quite a lot actually if he was able to get Logan to respond like this.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Wade, we’re not here for your nonsense. We’re here on a mission. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

Wade looked genuinely surprised, though his mask did an excellent job of hiding any real emotion. “Complicated? I’m just having some fun! These guys were talking about some interesting stuff, but they’re not very chatty. Maybe you’ll have better luck.” He waved vaguely at the group of people tied up in the corner.

Alexandria, feeling slightly more at ease now that Wade’s antics had taken the edge off, scanned the room. “What were they saying?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Wade shrugged, his nonchalance never wavering. “Oh, you know, just the usual—plots, plans, schemes. Nothing too exciting. But I bet if you dig a little deeper, you might find something fun.”

Logan grunted. “We’ve already got what we need. We’re leaving.” He turned to Alexandria. “Let’s go.”

Alexandria hesitated, glancing between Logan and Wade. “Maybe we should check to see if there’s anything else of value. This place seems like it has more to offer.”

Wade’s eyes lit up behind his mask. “Now that’s the spirit! You know, I like you. You’ve got some guts. I bet you and I would get along famously. Maybe you can join me for a chimichanga sometime.”

“What’s… that? A chim…” Alexandria trailed off.

Wade gasped, “you don’t know what a chimichanga is?” He looked over at Logan, “what are you going over there! Depriving children of one of the greatest joys of humanity.” He looked back over at Alexandria, “other than this Glock 34, of course.”

Alexandria grinned, “Can I shoot it?”

Wade’s eyes widened as Alexandria’s question sunk in. “You want to shoot it? Oh, pale and mysterious, you have just become my new favorite person!”

Logan, who had been standing with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, glared at Wade. “Wade, enough. We’re not here to play around. We need to finish this mission and get out.”

Wade pouted dramatically. “Aw, come on, Logan. Let the lady have some fun! Besides, I’m just about to reveal the big secret they were keeping.” He gestured to the group of tied-up individuals who were now staring at them with a mix of fear and relief.

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. “Wade, we’ve got what we need. Let’s just wrap this up and get back.”

“Fine, fine,” Wade said with a dramatic sigh. “But you’re missing out. I’ve got a whole plan for how we’re going to—”

“Wade,” Logan cut him off. “Just stop. We’re leaving. Now.”

They continued arguing, with Wade mostly enjoying making Logan angry as Alexandria went into their minds. One of them was daydreaming, letting her see what he was picturing.

Three men went up to the Blackbird and placed small remote explosives on parts of the ship. They were all masked, but one of them held the remote with a single button and his finger pressed to his ear.

The man dreaming was fearful, occasionally looking upwards at different corners of the ceiling. She followed his gaze to see faint red blinking lights in various edges of the ceiling.

“…fondling Colossus’s large metal balls before I would ever think about that.” Wade finished.

“You dick for brains, wannabe- ”

“Guys.” Alexandria said, but Logan continued.

“-piece of- ”

“Don’t you dare!” Wade exclaimed.

“-sh- ”

“Guys!” Alexandria exclaimed, her voice sharp and urgent. She pointed towards the ceiling where one of the small explosives was attached, the red light blinking faster and faster. “We need to get out of here.”

Logan's head snapped around, his eyes immediately locking onto the blinking light. His expression turned from irritation to intense focus. “What the hell?” he growled. “Wade!”

Wade, who had been in the middle of a dramatic monologue about how he’d never use a chimichanga as a weapon, suddenly seemed to register the seriousness of the situation. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes widening as he saw the explosives.

“Oh, fuck,” Wade muttered, his usual flippant demeanor momentarily dropping. “I guess we’re not in a fun, happy place anymore, huh?”

Logan didn’t bother with a response. He grabbed Alexandria’s arm and started pulling her towards the exit. “Move it! We’re not sticking around for this.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,” Alexandria caught the beginning of one of the guy’s Wade had tied up. He was praying in Russian.

The guy grabbed a black device with a red button, “have mercy on me, a sinner.” He pressed the button, the detonators in the building and on the Blackbird exploding.

The entire facility caught in flames, walls and ceilings breaking down almost instantaneously. The force of the explosions separated the three of them.

But Logan didn’t get the best of luck, because he heard Wade’s coughing right next to him. “Boy, oh boy. Haven’t been thrown around like that in a looong time,” Wade’s voice echoed through the smoke. Logan groaned, recognizing it immediately.

Logan pushed himself up, his muscles protesting. He spotted Wade stumbling through the smoke, coughing and mumbling something about chimichangas. Logan shook his head in frustration. “Wade! Are you trying to get us all killed?”

Wade looked at Logan with wide, slightly dazed eyes. “What? Oh, hey there, Logan! I was just about to- ” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realized the gravity of the situation. “Whoa, did things just get hotter, or is it just me?”

“Shut up and get moving,” Logan snapped, trying to get a grip on the situation. “We need to find Alexandria and get out of here.”

Wade nodded, a serious expression briefly crossing his face before he resumed his usual flippant demeanor. “Right, right. Save the day, get out alive, all that jazz.”

Logan scanned the area, straining to locate Alexandria amid the smoke and wreckage. “Alexandria!” he shouted, hoping she was nearby. His voice was barely audible over the cacophony of collapsing debris and roaring flames.

Alexandria blinked her eyes, the smoke slightly burning them and her lungs. She stood up noticing a rather large metal rod in her shoulder. She pulled it out with a grunt, dropping the rod to the ground.

All around her was flames and debris until she heard gunshots coming straight for her. She ducked for cover behind a large piece of concrete before glancing up.

A large group of gunmen in all black outfits, including a baklava, with rifles. “Damn it.” She muttered in Russian.

Alexandria’s mind raced. She needed to get out of here and find Logan. Her telekinesis picked up several pieces of debris, hurling them towards the advancing gunmen. They scattered, their shouts blending with the roar of the fire.

Using her telekinesis again, she brought the metal rod that was in her shoulder and huffed, partial excitement, partial wariness. But fuck, she loved fighting. And those rifles they had looked particularly expensive, and maybe even military grade.

She jumped out from the concrete and kicked in one guys knee, before using him as a human shield and taking his rifle. Alexandria threw the rifle at another guys head, before stabbing another one in the chest with the rod and pulling it out.

There were 10 more left and one of them happened to shoot her in the thigh. She continued on, moving onto that guy next, kicking his head into the concrete wall while grabbing his pistol, shooting it at the heads of 2 other men.

Seven more left.

Using her telekinesis, she picked up two small pieces of the broken concrete and smashed it against two guys heads before punching another man in the chest and kicking out his legs, finishing it with one shot to the forehead.

Four more left.

She glanced around quickly, taking stock of her surroundings. The facility was in ruins, flames licking at the edges of the debris, and the smoke was thick, making it harder to see. The gunmen, still advancing cautiously, were clearly outnumbered and outmatched. Alexandria’s telekinesis had already proven effective, and she was ready to finish this.

One of the remaining gunmen took a shot at her, but she dodged, using her telekinesis to deflect the bullet with a burst of force. She moved swiftly, taking down the nearest gunman with a well-placed kick to the chest, sending him crashing into a heap of rubble.

The remaining three gunmen hesitated, clearly shaken by the ease with which Alexandria had dispatched their comrades. One of them tried to call for reinforcements, but Alexandria didn’t give him the chance. She hurled a piece of debris at him, knocking the radio from his hand.

Another gunman took aim at Alexandria, but she was faster. She grabbed a chunk of metal from the ground with her telekinesis and sent it flying at him, knocking him off balance. She followed up with a powerful kick, sending him sprawling.

Two left.

The last two gunmen exchanged nervous glances. They were cornered, and Alexandria could see the fear in their eyes. She didn’t give them time to regroup. Using her telekinesis, she lifted a large piece of concrete and threw it at them, forcing them to take cover behind a nearby wall.

The gunmen’s attempts to return fire were futile as Alexandria’s telekinesis cleared the debris away from them with practiced precision. She moved in quickly, her movements fluid and decisive. She disarmed one of the gunmen and knocked him out with a swift punch to the jaw. The final gunman, now alone and panicked, tried to make a run for it.

Alexandria wasn’t having any of it. She used her telekinesis to create a barrier of debris in his path, cutting off his escape. He stumbled and fell, and Alexandria was on him in an instant. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up to face her.

“Who do you work for?” she demanded in Russian, her voice cold and fierce. When he didn’t respond she punched his jaw twice, knocking out his molars. “No cyanide pill, no suicide. Who do you work for?”

The man, unable to withstand her pressure and the pain from her earlier blows, stammered out a response. “I—I don’t know much. We were just hired for a job!”

“Who hired you?” Alexandria pressed, her voice gaining an edge of menace. She tightened her grip on his collar, making sure he understood she meant business.

“I don’t know, lady! You’re crazy.”

She gave a grin, almost looking crazed to the man, “good.” A sharp pain went through her abdomen as she looked down, seeing a knife from him. “You bitch. I thought we were getting along.”

Alexandria pulled the knife out and kicked him in the crotch, sending him to the ground. She straddled his body and held the knife to his throat while looking in his jacket pockets.

She found a card and pulled it out. It read ‘Voron’, a secret service of hitman that HYDRA tended to use for bigger operations.

“Did HYDRA hire you?” She asked. He shook his head in response. “I know a lot of ways to torture you. 50 of them include this knife.” Alexandria twirled it around in her hand. “12 of them include the fire just a few steps ahead, and 8 of them include concrete.”

Logan walked through the broken halls, fire licking at him and Wade who tagged behind. “You know she could be dead.” Wade said, as Logan turned to face him was a strong glare. “Just saying. But you’re probably right, she seems like she can handle herself. She has a really cool accent too. Is it Ukrainian? Or- ”

“Shut up,” Logan said, cutting off Wade’s incessant chatter. His irritation was palpable as he pushed through the thick smoke and debris.

Wade, ever unfazed by Logan's gruffness, just grinned wider. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet. For now.” He followed behind Logan, his steps exaggeratedly silent, as if he were tiptoeing through a field of landmines.

Logan’s focus was intense as he navigated the rubble, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Alexandria. The chaos of the collapsing facility made it difficult to keep track of her, and the smoke was thick and stinging his eyes.

The sound of more explosions and falling debris echoed around them. Logan’s frustration grew; the entire situation was turning into a bigger mess than he had anticipated. He had hoped this mission would be straightforward—just a simple reconnaissance to gather intel. Instead, it had turned into a full-blown crisis with Wade and a bunch of explosive devices thrown into the mix.

“Alexandria!” Logan shouted again, his voice hoarse from the smoke. “Where are you?”

Wade, who had been scanning the area with mild curiosity, suddenly perked up when they both heard a loud scream and a roaring fire. “Just a guess, but I’m assuming wherever that scream came from.”

Logan, who had been pushing through the debris and smoke, gave Wadel a sharp look. “I don’t need your commentary right now. Let’s find Alexandria before things get worse.”

Wade’s grin widened, though he followed Logan’s lead with surprising seriousness. “Okay, okay. No more jokes. But I’m still rooting for you guys!”

Logan didn’t respond, his focus locked on navigating the wreckage and finding Alexandria. The smoke was thick, and the heat from the fires was oppressive. Logan shouted Alexandria’s name again, his voice hoarse from the smoke. “Alexandria! Answer if you can hear me!”

The flames roared louder, and the facility was crumbling around them. Logan and Wade continued through the chaos, moving with purpose despite the increasing danger. Logan’s irritation was palpable, his usual gruff demeanor heightened by the urgency of the situation.

As they rounded a corner, the smoke began to clear slightly, revealing the source of the commotion. Alexandra dusted off her blood-covered hands as she threw the knife to the ground.

“Oh. Hello.” she said calmly.

Wade’s eyes widened under his mask, “Jesus, you look like a mess girl. A good shower will do you some good.” He chuckled, “but blood takes a while to come off your skin, trust me.”

Alexandria wiped her hands on her pants, trying to remove the blood but only smearing it further. Her eyes were cold but there was a faint trace of a smirk on her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm given the chaos around her.

Logan walked up, his expression a mix of frustration and relief. “Are you alright?” he asked gruffly, trying to push through his annoyance at the situation. “You’re not seriously hurt, are you?”

Alexandria looked at him with an almost dismissive air, though there was a hint of gratitude in her eyes. “Just a few cuts and bruises. I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Logan nodded, his eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of additional threats. “Alright, let’s get out of here. The place is coming down fast.”

Wade, still grinning, was hopping from foot to foot like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, I love a good rescue mission! But before we go, how about a quick debriefing? You know, for old times’ sake?”

Logan shot him a look that could freeze fire. “Wade, save it for later. We need to move.”

Wade’s grin didn’t waver. “Fine, fine. But I’m going to need a ride in that fancy jet of yours. I’ve got a new chimichanga recipe to try, and you guys look like you could use some culinary inspiration.”

“The jet? It’s destroyed.” Alexandria spoke casually.

“What?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say before the building went ‘kaboom.’ But you both were too busy arguing.” Alexandria's tone was dry, almost indifferent, as she leaned against a partially collapsed wall, her eyes fixed on the two men. Logan stared at her, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, while Wade's eyes widened under his mask.

“You're telling me the jet is gone?” Logan growled, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. His frustration was palpable, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. This was supposed to be a simple mission, and now it had turned into a complete disaster.

“Not gone. More like… scattered.” Alexandria replied, wiping a smear of blood from her cheek, hoping she didn’t add more to her face. Her voice was calm, almost eerily so, given the chaos surrounding them.

Wade clapped his hands together, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “Well, isn’t this just the most fun we’ve had all day? No jet, no ride home, and now we’re stuck in the middle of a burning building. This is going to be one hell of a story!”

Logan shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Wade, if you don’t shut up right now, I’ll give you something to really laugh about.”

Wade raised his hands in mock surrender, his tone playful. “Okay, okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants. But let’s be honest here, this is a bit of a pickle, isn’t it? How do you plan on getting out of this one?”

Logan ignored Wade's comment, his mind racing as he assessed their situation. The building was crumbling around them, the fire spreading rapidly through the structure. The smoke was thick, choking, and the heat was becoming unbearable. With the jet destroyed, their options were severely limited.

He turned to Alexandria, his tone gruff. “Can you sense anyone else in the building? Any survivors?”

Alexandria closed her eyes briefly, reaching out with her powers. She searched the remaining pockets of the building for any sign of life, sifting through the chaos of debris and flames. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and shook her head. “No one else. Just us and a lot of dead bodies.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, his jaw tightening. “Alright, we’re getting out of here. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“Lead the way, fearless leader,” Wade quipped, following closely behind Logan as he started to move through the wreckage.

Logan ignored him, focusing on finding the safest route out. They navigated the burning building, dodging falling debris and pushing through the thick smoke. Alexandria moved with a quiet confidence, her senses on high alert as she followed Logan’s lead.

As they approached a large gap in the wall that had been blown open by the explosions, Logan paused, scanning the area. Beyond the opening was the outside world, the cold night air mingling with the heat from the flames. The ground outside was littered with debris, but it was their only way out.

“Stay close,” Logan instructed, his voice rough as he led them through the gap and into the open air. The contrast between the cold night and the inferno inside the building was stark, the cool breeze a welcome relief after the suffocating heat.

Wade stretched dramatically as they emerged from the wreckage, taking in the scene with a gleeful grin. “Ah, freedom! It smells like victory, with just a hint of burning debris. I think we’re making memories here, folks!”

Logan shot him a withering look but didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the remains of the Blackbird, now a smoldering heap of metal scattered across the ground. The explosion had obliterated the jet, leaving nothing but twisted wreckage in its wake.

“Damn it,” Logan muttered under his breath. His mind raced with the implications of their situation. Without the jet, they were stranded with no immediate way to get back to the mansion or contact the others.

“We’re a bit stranded, aren’t we?” Wade commented, his tone cheerful despite the dire circumstances.

“There’s a pickup truck right over there.” Logan gestured to a white beat-up truck with rust on the hood. Before Wade could speak Logan spoke again, “you’re not driving.”

“Aw, man!” Wade exclaimed, his voice dripping with exaggerated disappointment. “And here I was all ready to show off my impeccable driving skills. What’s the matter? Afraid of a little off-road adventure?”

Logan shot him a glare that could freeze water. “Not afraid. Just not stupid. I’ve seen what you call ‘driving.’”

Wade put his hands on his hips, striking a dramatic pose. “Well, aren’t we the stern taskmaster today. I’ll have you know I’m a certified road warrior. But fine, you drive. I’ll just sit here and look pretty.”

Logan didn’t bother responding. He moved swiftly towards the beat-up truck, his mind already racing through their options. Alexandria followed, her calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the chaos that had just unfolded. Despite her usual indifference, she couldn’t help but notice the irony of the situation: a gruff Wolverine, an irreverent Deadpool, and a demolished jet—her new reality.

As Logan approached the truck, he noticed the keys hanging from the ignition. “Guess they weren’t expecting company,” he muttered, looking over at Wade. “You can play with the radio, but don’t touch anything else.”

Wade nodded his head gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain! I’ll keep my hands to myself and my eyes on the road.”

Logan shook his head, barely containing his frustration. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the truck. The engine roared to life, and he maneuvered it carefully around the debris field, his attention divided between the road ahead and the smoldering wreckage of the Blackbird.

Alexandria, still wiping blood from her hands, took a seat in the middle of the backseat, her eyes scanning the surrounding area. The adrenaline from the fight was fading, leaving a dull ache in her muscles and a cold sense of urgency. She glanced at Wade, who was fiddling with the radio and humming off-key.

She glanced down at her abdomen, the blood leaking slower, but still steadily. The good thing was, it was hard to differentiate her blood from the blood of the others, making it difficult to tell if she was bleeding herself.

Wade continued to fiddle with the radio. The upbeat pop music blaring from the speakers seemed wildly out of place given the circumstances. He was humming along loudly, apparently in his own little world. Logan kept his eyes on the road, his expression a mixture of irritation and concentration.

“So,” Wade said, breaking the silence. “How about we get some names and backgrounds on these guys next time before we go full assault mode? A little intel never hurt anyone.”

Logan grunted in response, his eyes flickering briefly to the rearview mirror to check Alexandria’s condition. She looked like she was in pain, but she wasn’t complaining—typical.

Wade continued, oblivious to Logan’s irritation. “And speaking of names, how about we talk about you? Never got a chance to ask. Where you from? What’s your story?”

Alexandria kept her gaze fixed out the window, “I’m from Russia. The Avengers took me from HYDRA when they destroyed one of their bases a few months ago.”

Alexandria kept her gaze fixed out the window, trying to focus on anything other than the pain radiating from her wounds. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the aches in her shoulder, thigh, and abdomen were becoming impossible to ignore. The silence in the truck was thick, broken only by the occasional crackle of debris under the tires and the upbeat pop music that Wade had left on the radio.

“Russia, huh?” Wade finally said, glancing back at her. “Cold winters, colder people. I can see how HYDRA would be right at home there. So, what’s your deal? How’d they get their claws into you?”

Alexandria’s eyes flicked to him for a brief moment before returning to the window. “They killed my parents and older brother in front of me when I was three then took me in.” She sat up straighter, “turn the radio up.”

“And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate

And I screamed for whatever it’s worth

‘I love you,’ ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?

He looks up grinning like a devil”

She leaned forward slightly, “can’t we just drive to the mansion?” Alexandria asked Logan.

“No. We can’t. New York is almost 13 hours away from here.”

“Chert voz'mi.” She mumbled. She wasn’t expecting Michigan to be that far away from New York. The flight coming was only an hour and a half. A drive from here was only slightly shorter than a drive from Moscow to Warsaw.

As the truck rumbled over the uneven terrain, Alexandria’s eyes remained fixed on the passing landscape, her mind trying to push through the haze of pain and exhaustion. The rhythmic thumping of the tires against the road did little to soothe the throbbing in her shoulder, thigh, and abdomen. Each bump in the road sent jolts of discomfort through her, and she clenched her jaw to keep from making any noise.

Wade’s incessant chatter continued in the background, a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere. He seemed to take delight in every turn and bump, his playful commentary a constant presence.

“So, tell me, Alexandria,” Wade said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “You’ve got these awesome powers and a dark, mysterious past. What’s your favorite way to use them? Manipulating dreams? Throwing stuff around?”

Alexandria’s gaze remained on the window, her voice flat. “I don’t have favorites.”

Wade raised an eyebrow. “Really? No favorite way to mess with people’s minds or toss things around? I’d think with powers like yours, you’d have some fun stories.”

She gave a slight shrug, though it was more of a wince due to her wounds. “There was this one time I was sent to a farm close by Kenozero. This guy was supposed to be working for HYDRA but went off the grid. He had started to experiment on animals like tigers, lions, and coyotes.”

“He did the most on this one female tiger, but none of them could fight back because of a shock collar on all of them. All I did was take off the collar on Sasha and she ate him whole. You could even hear him screaming for a few seconds when his head was inside her.” Alexandria smiled fondly.

Wade looked between Logan and Alexandria before speaking, “that’s what I’m talking about! That’s a cool story! See, this is what bedtime stories are made of. Kids need to hear about tigers eating bad guys—straight up Jurassic Park meets National Geographic with a dash of HYDRA madness. You’re like a walking R-rated fairytale.”

Alexandria’s smirk faded slightly as she glanced at Wade, her expression returning to its usual stoic demeanor. “It wasn’t about fun. It was about completing the mission,” she replied flatly, her voice devoid of the enthusiasm Wade seemed to be looking for.

Wade, never one to be deterred, just nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Sure, sure, mission accomplished, and all that. But you can’t tell me you didn’t get a little bit of satisfaction from seeing that guy get what he deserved.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her gaze drifting back to the window. The cold landscape outside was a stark contrast to the warmth inside the truck, but it did nothing to soothe the throbbing pain from her wounds. She shifted slightly, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate her injuries.

Logan, catching the subtle movement, grunted. “You’re bleeding all over the backseat,” he muttered, not unkindly, but with the gruff concern that was characteristic of him.

“I’m fine,” Alexandria replied, her tone clipped. The truth was, she wasn’t fine, but admitting that wasn’t something she was accustomed to. She had been trained to endure pain, to push through it, and she wasn’t about to start complaining now.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching her reflection. “Fine or not, those wounds need attention. We’ll stop somewhere and patch you up before you pass out.”

“Like a motel?” Wade chimed in, his voice dripping with amusement. “We could do the whole ‘nurse Logan’ thing. I’d pay to see that.”

Logan shot Wade a look that could’ve melted steel. “If you keep talking, I’ll give you something to really scream about.”

Wade put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. We’re on a road trip, after all. Might as well make it fun.”

Alexandria shifted again, the discomfort in her abdomen intensifying. She didn’t want to admit it, but Logan was right—she needed to do something about her wounds before they became a bigger problem. The last thing she wanted was to pass out from blood loss in front of these two.

“We should keep moving,” she said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. “Stopping isn’t an option.”

Logan grunted again, clearly not convinced. “We’re stopping. You’re not in any condition to make decisions right now.”

Alexandria’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right, even if she hated admitting it. The pain in her abdomen was becoming harder to ignore, and every bump in the road sent sharp jolts through her body. She pressed a hand against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, but it was a losing battle.

Wade, sensing the tension, decided to change the subject. “So, Logan, got any good stories? You know, from back in the day when you were all ‘lone wolf’ and whatnot?”

Logan shot him a sideways glance, clearly not in the mood for chit-chat. “No.”

Wade pouted dramatically. “Aw, come on! I bet you’ve got some wild tales. Maybe a bar brawl or two? A tussle with some bad guys? Or maybe a romantic escapade?”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

Alexandria, despite her pain, couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the exchange. There was something almost amusing about Wade’s relentless banter and Logan’s gruff refusal to engage. It was like watching a dog trying to catch its own tail—endlessly entertaining and equally pointless.

After a few more minutes of silence, Logan finally spoke again. “There’s a town up ahead. We’ll stop there and get you patched up.”

Alexandria didn’t protest this time. She knew she didn’t have much of a choice. The pain was becoming unbearable, and she was starting to feel lightheaded. She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes and trying to focus on her breathing.

Wade, sensing the shift in mood, decided to dial back his usual antics. “Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Then it’s back to kicking ass and taking names.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her mind too foggy to come up with a snarky reply. The pain was overwhelming her, and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness. She tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle.

Logan noticed her slumping in the backseat and cursed under his breath. “Damn it,” he muttered, glancing at Wade. “Keep her awake.”

Wade immediately turned in his seat, his usual playful demeanor replaced by genuine concern. “Hey, hey, no sleeping on the job! Come on, stay with us.”

Alexandria’s eyes fluttered open, but it was clear she was struggling. Her vision was blurry, and her head felt like it was filled with cotton. She tried to focus on Wade’s voice, but it was like trying to hold onto a wisp of smoke.

“Stay with me, okay?” Wade continued, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

Logan pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the truck speeding through the darkened landscape. He knew they didn’t have much time. Alexandria’s wounds were serious, and if they didn’t stop the bleeding soon, she wouldn’t make it.

As they neared the small town, Logan spotted a rundown motel on the outskirts. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. He pulled into the parking lot, the truck skidding to a halt. Without wasting any time, he jumped out and opened the back door, reaching in to help Alexandria out.

Wade was already out of the truck, opening the motel door with a flourish. “Welcome to your five-star accommodations!” he announced, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

Logan ignored him, his focus solely on getting Alexandria inside. She was barely conscious, her body limp in his arms as he carried her into the room. He laid her down on the bed, quickly assessing her wounds.

“Damn it, she’s lost a lot of blood,” Logan muttered, his hands moving with practiced precision as he worked to stop the bleeding. “Wade, grab the first aid kit from the truck.”

Wade didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted back to the truck and returned with the kit, handing it to Logan. “Here you go, Doc. Think you can patch her up?”

Logan didn’t answer, already working to clean and bandage the wounds. His hands were steady, his movements efficient and methodical. He had done this more times than he could count, and each time it never got any easier.

Alexandria winced as Logan applied pressure to the wound on her abdomen, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “You… don’t have to…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Shut up,” Logan growled, not unkindly. “Just stay still.”

Wade hovered nearby, uncharacteristically quiet as he watched Logan work. He wasn’t used to seeing Logan like this—so focused, so determined. It was a side of him that Wade rarely got to see, and it was clear that Logan cared more than he let on.

After what felt like an eternity, Logan finally finished bandaging Alexandria’s wounds. He sat back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “That should hold for now,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

She glanced between Wade who stood leaning against the wall, his mask now off eating a bag of peanuts he must’ve found somewhere, and Logan who was in front of her.

Alexandria sat up on the lumpy bed, “you sure we can’t leave now? I feel fine.”

Logan shot Alexandria a look that was more irritated than concerned. "You’re not fine, kid. You just bled all over the backseat and nearly passed out. Sit your ass down."

Alexandria frowned but didn’t argue further. She leaned back against the lumpy pillows, her hand absently touching the fresh bandages. The motel room was dingy, the wallpaper peeling and the smell of stale cigarettes lingering in the air. It wasn’t exactly the X-Mansion, but it was better than bleeding out on the side of the road.

Wade tossed another peanut into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "You know, she’s got a point, Logan. We can’t stay here forever. The motel’s got that ‘murder scene in a bad horror movie’ vibe, and I’m not sticking around to see if there’s a sequel."

Logan ignored him, his attention on Alexandria. "We’re not moving until you’ve had some rest. You’re not going to do anyone any good if you collapse halfway through the drive."

Alexandria sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She wasn’t used to this—being taken care of, being told to rest. She had spent her life fighting, surviving, pushing through the pain. The idea of sitting still while others worried about her was foreign, uncomfortable.

But she also couldn’t sleep, not without the mind blocker that Hank made her to keep out other people’s dreams. “I can’t.” She said looking over to Logan. “I don’t have my mind blocker. No mind blocker, no sleep.”

“You don’t need that thing to sleep,” he said gruffly. “Just close your eyes and rest.”

Alexandria shook her head, her frustration evident. “You don’t understand. I’ll end up in someone else’s dreams- or worse, they’ll end up in mine.”

Wade, still leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow. “Dream-weaving, huh? That’s gotta make for some interesting nights. But seriously, you can’t keep running on empty. Even superheroes need their beauty sleep.”

“Not really a superhero,” Alexandria muttered.

Logan’s gaze narrowed, his tone firm. “You’re bleeding through those bandages and can barely keep your eyes open. You need rest.”

“Is there a store nearby?” Wade interrupted, tossing the empty peanut bag aside. “Maybe we can find something to knock her out. You know, something strong enough to keep her from dream-hopping.”

Logan glared at Wade, then looked back at Alexandria. “We’re not drugging her.”

She leaned forward, “that’s a good idea. Although I suppose there are no strong sedatives around like HYDRA used. But 3 bottles of melatonin will do.”

Logan shook his head, clearly exasperated but also a little concerned. “Melatonin? Three bottles? You’re not serious.”

Alexandria shrugged, wincing as the movement tugged at her shoulder wound. “I don’t need much. Just enough to keep me under without letting the dreams in. HYDRA used to give us something stronger, but I’ll make do.”

Wade piped up from the corner, his interest piqued. “Sounds like a plan! I could run to the nearest store and grab some, no problem. Maybe pick up some snacks while I’m at it. What do you guys want? Twizzlers? Doritos? Those little chocolate-covered pretzels?”

Logan glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re not running off to the store. We’re not drugging her with a ridiculous amount of melatonin either. We’ll figure something else out.”

Alexandria’s frustration was growing. She wasn’t used to this—people debating over what was best for her, trying to take care of her. It felt alien and uncomfortable, and she didn’t like it one bit. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “I can’t just sleep like normal people. The dreams- they’re not always mine. I can’t control it without the blocker.”

Logan’s expression softened just a fraction, a rare moment of understanding in his usually gruff demeanor. “We’re not at the mansion, and we don’t have Hank’s fancy gadget, so we’ll have to improvise. You’re not getting loaded up on pills. You need real rest, not a drugged coma.”

Alexandria’s gaze was unwavering, her resolve clear despite the pain that etched lines into her pale face. “And how do you suggest I do that?” she challenged, her voice quiet but laced with a sharp edge. “I can’t just turn it off, Logan. My powers don’t work that way.”

Logan didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t good with words, especially when it came to things as complicated as what Alexandria was dealing with. But he knew enough about suffering through nightmares, both literal and metaphorical, to understand a fraction of her struggle.

His own healing factor had its perks, but it didn’t shield him from the horrors that played out in his mind when he finally allowed himself to sleep. And the idea of being trapped in someone else’s nightmares? That was something he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“We’ll figure something out,” he finally said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “But we’re not drugging you into oblivion. Not gonna happen.”

Alexandria sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard. The pain in her shoulder, thigh, and abdomen was relentless, a constant reminder of how vulnerable she was right now. Vulnerability wasn’t something she was used to; it didn’t sit well with her, not one bit.

She was a soldier, trained to push through pain, to ignore her body’s weaknesses, but she was also practical. She knew when she was beaten, and right now, she was on the losing side.

“Fine,” she muttered, closing her eyes briefly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “But don’t blame me when I end up in your dreams. Or you end up in mine.”

Wade, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange, perked up at the mention of dream-walking. “Ooh, that could be fun! Imagine the possibilities- Logan’s dreams are probably a mix of violent bar fights, wild animal chases, and maybe, just maybe, a tender moment or two where he hugs a puppy.”

Logan shot him a withering glare that could have sent lesser men running for cover. “Shut up, Wade. I’m not in the mood for your crap.”

Wade just grinned, unphased by Logan’s usual brand of hostility. “I’m just saying, if she ends up in your dreams, we might finally get to see the softer side of you. You know, the one that secretly enjoys long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners.”

Logan’s patience was wearing thinner by the second. “You keep talking, and I’ll show you the softer side of my fist.”

“Alright, alright, I get it- no beach walks for you,” Wade conceded, though the grin never left his face. He turned his attention back to Alexandria, his tone becoming somewhat more serious. “Look, kid, I know it’s not easy, but we’ve got to play the hand we’re dealt. You’re hurt, you’re exhausted, and you need rest. If the dreams come, they come. We’ll deal with it when we get there. Right now, you need to sleep.”

Alexandria opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. She knew they were right—Wade, in his own twisted way, and Logan, with his gruff sense of responsibility. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to accept. She had spent so long relying on her own strength, on her own ability to control her powers, that the idea of surrendering to something as mundane as sleep without her usual safeguards felt like admitting defeat.

With a heavy sigh, Alexandria finally nodded. “Alright,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll try.”

Logan nodded in return, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good. That’s all we can ask.”

Wade, never one to miss an opportunity to lighten the mood, clapped his hands together. “Well, now that we’ve got that sorted, how about a bedtime story? Something to lull you into sweet dreams. I’ve got this great one about a mercenary who- ”

“Wade,” Logan interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Shut up.”

Wade pouted, but there was no real bite behind it. “Fine, fine. No bedtime story. But if you need a lullaby, you know where to find me.”

Alexandria couldn’t help but smirk, despite the pain and exhaustion weighing her down. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured, her eyes already starting to drift closed.

Logan stood from the edge of the bed, giving her one last, assessing look before turning to Wade. “Keep an eye on her,” he said quietly, though his voice held the same edge of command it always did. “If she starts to dream-walk, you wake me up. Understood?”

Wade gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain. I’ll keep watch like a hawk.”

Logan grunted in response, then headed for the door. “I’ll be outside. Don’t do anything stupid.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Wade settled into the rickety chair in the corner of the room, his usual playful demeanor giving way to something quieter, more introspective. He watched as Alexandria’s breathing evened out, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been pulling at her for hours.

For a moment, he considered all the things he could do—draw a mustache on her face, take a selfie with her, or maybe even give her a gentle nudge to see if she’d end up in his dreams. But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he just sat there, watching over her like some twisted guardian angel, the usual chaos of his mind taking a backseat to something that almost resembled concern.

---

“You cannot enter until you learn your lesson.” The woman said slowly in Russian. “Your actions have consequences, child.”

“I did nothing wrong!” A young Alexandria cried out.

“You tried to help another prisoner. That's irresponsible.” The woman said, who was a head scientist at HYDRA. The same one that she first saw when she was brought to HYDRA.

The woman had thrown Alexandria out into the cold, snowy Russian terrain. They had a small field outside that was rarely used for recreation. HYDRA wasn’t kind. Instead, it was used as punishment. All Alexandria had was the thin grey prisoner outfit with thin socks that were already drenched with the freezing snow.

A tear fell down Alexandria’s cheek, almost immediately stinging her cheek due to the freezing temperature.

“Thirty hours, Alexandria. If you haven't learned your lesson by then... then the punishment will be even worse.” The woman closed the heavy metal door to inside the base, leaving Alexandria outside in the cold with no food or protection from the heavy snowstorm.

---

Wade was still in the chair, his head lolling to the side as he snored softly. The room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioner, and Logan closing the door.

He woke up shaking his head, “wow, what a weird dream. They were speaking some other language I didn’t understand.”

Logan took a swig of a whiskey bottle he found, glancing at Alexandria. “You dumb fuck. They were speaking Russian, weren’t they?”

Wade looked at her sleeping form as well, “oh- yeah, I guess that makes sense. That dream was so realistic. I could almost feel the cold.”

Logan shook his head at Wade in annoyance and took a seat at the edge of the bed, close by Alexandria’s feet.

“Help me.” She mumbled in Russian, turning on her side.

Logan’s brow furrowed as he watched Alexandria shift in her sleep, the words escaping her lips like a distant echo. He took another swig from his whiskey bottle, the bitter liquid doing little to numb the unease creeping up his spine. Alexandria’s sleep had been fitful, her dreams casting shadows that seemed almost tangible, even in her unconscious state.

Wade frowned, looking at Logan. “You think she’s dreaming about something bad?”

Logan took another pull from the bottle, his eyes never leaving Alexandria. “Yeah. It’s probably not a pleasant memory.” He paused, letting the silence hang in the air. “She’s got a lot of those.”

Wade shifted in his seat, trying to make sense of the fragments of the dream. “I could almost feel the snow. It was like I was there, seeing through her eyes.”

Logan grunted in agreement, though his attention was on Alexandria’s face, twisted in an expression of pain even in sleep. “Dreams can be powerful like that. Especially for someone like her.”

---

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had been out here. Her fingers were already numb and burning, and her wet clothes didn’t help her either.

There was no materials to create a fire, all of it wet from the constant downpour of snow.

For a while, she had banged on the metal door until her knuckles bled. Then she gave up, and sat under an old weight rack that covered part of her body.

Alexandria looked around past the gated fence, part of her hoping, wishing, and even praying like mama and papa did.

But no one came, not after her cries for help and her apologies to the impenetrable metal door.

She wanted to follow mama, papa, and Mikhail to the afterlife, but before she could close her eyes and surrender, the metal door opened.

---

By the time she opened her eyes, it was already early morning. The sun painted a faint orange hue into the room, but not bright enough to keep Wade awake, who was sleeping in the chair.

Logan wasn’t in the room, but she could smell the faint bitterness of some sort of alcohol. The dream, or memory, had made her cold, so without thinking she grabbed Logan’s leather jacket that was on the TV stand and put it on.

It was much bigger than her, she was somewhat taller than average, but still quite skinny thanks to the malnourishment she sustained at HYDRA.

Alexandria opened the motel door and walked outside, shutting it quietly behind her. She saw Logan by the truck, the hood popped open.

“Figured you’d be up early,” Alexandria said, her voice rough from sleep and the remnants of her dream. She wrapped Logan’s oversized leather jacket tighter around her thin frame. The cold made the pain from her wounds more pronounced, but she tried to ignore it.

Logan glanced up from the engine, his expression inscrutable. “What’re you doing out here? Thought you’d be getting some more sleep.”

“I was cold,” she said simply. “And I couldn’t stay in there.”

Logan grunted, his eyes shifting from Alexandria to the engine. “Ain’t exactly the Ritz in here. What’s got you up?”

Alexandria looked away, trying to shake off the remnants of her dream. “Bad dreams.”

Logan’s gaze softened for a moment before he returned his attention to the truck. “You should talk to someone about that. Dreams like that don’t just go away on their own.”

“Not much point,” Alexandria said. “Memories have a hard time fading away.” She shrugged, before putting her elbows on the truck and her chin on her fist. “And Wade was snoring. Hard to fall back asleep even if I wanted to.”

As the sun continued its slow climb into the sky, Alexandria tried to shake off the remnants of her dream. The pain from her wounds was a constant companion, but she managed to ignore it, focusing instead on the task of getting through the day. She glanced back at the motel, where Wade was still snoozing, oblivious to the early morning exchange.

“Hey,” Logan said, breaking the silence. “You want some coffee or something? There’s a diner down the road.”

Alexandria considered it for a moment. “Sure. I could use something warm.” She shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate her wounds. “Just… don’t expect me to be chatty.”

Logan gave her a rare, almost encouraging nod. “No worries. Just figured you could use a break from the cold. And maybe get a decent meal in you.”

She gestured to the motel room, “we don’t have to bring him, do we?”

Logan opened the driver’s seat, “fuck no. But he’ll probably show up out of nowhere anyways. Get in.” She opened the door when he glanced at her, “and close the jacket, your shirt’s covered in blood.”

Alexandria glanced down and realized that the shirt she was still in was covered in old, dried blood. She zipped the jacket and hopped into the truck.

The truck rumbled to life, and Logan threw a casual glance in Alexandria's direction. "You okay? Anything else you need before we head out?"

Alexandria shook her head, her voice still rough from sleep. "No, I’m fine. Just... trying to get warm."

Logan nodded and pulled the truck onto the road. The early morning sun cast a pale light over the landscape, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the lingering effects of the cold that had settled into Alexandria’s body. The two of them drove in silence for a while, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires.

"Dreams are a bitch," Logan finally said, breaking the silence. "You want to talk about what happened?"

Alexandria shifted uncomfortably, her wounds throbbing slightly with each movement. "Not really. Just... a bad memory."

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, eyes focused on the road ahead. "Yeah, well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just remember, there’s a difference between ignoring it and dealing with it."

She didn’t respond, instead staring out the window at the passing scenery. Her thoughts were still tangled up in the remnants of her dream, the icy cold of her past blending with the present discomfort.

A few minutes later, Logan pulled into a small diner that looked like it hadn’t seen a lot of business in recent years. The sign outside advertised ‘Hot Coffee & Fresh Breakfast’, a welcome promise after the cold of the morning.

As they walked into the diner, Alexandria tried to adjust the oversized jacket, her movements stiff and cautious. The warmth of the diner was a relief, but it also made her more aware of the pain from her injuries. Logan led the way to a booth in the corner and slid into one side, gesturing for Alexandria to sit across from him.

“And I’m not buying you that sugary coffee drink you like.” Logan said, looking over the menu.

She peaked her head out from hers, a slight pout forming, “why not?”

Logan glanced up from his menu, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "You can get that sugary crap on your own time. We’re here to eat, not to indulge your sweet tooth."

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, her pout deepening. "It’s just coffee, Logan. It’s not like I’m asking for dessert.”

“Dessert’s probably not a great idea either,” Logan said gruffly. “Not with your current condition. Stick to something simple.”

“Fine,” Alexandria grumbled, flipping through the menu with a practiced disinterest. She was getting a sugary coffee, no matter what he said. Although they didn’t have an iced white chocolate mocha, so she was going to have to settle for something else.

The waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, approached their table. “Good morning, folks. What can I get you?”

Logan gave his order- eggs and bacon, a black coffee- and then turned to Alexandria.

“I’ll have the double stack of pancakes and a caramel frappe,” Alexandria said with a small, defiant smile, looking up at the waitress.

Logan shot her a disapproving look as the waitress nodded and jotted down the orders before heading off to the kitchen. Logan settled back into his booth, his eyes flicking between Alexandria and the window, clearly lost in thought. Alexandria, meanwhile, tried to ignore the dull throb of her injuries, focusing instead on the warmth that was slowly seeping into her bones.

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he studied her. “You sure you don’t want to talk about that dream? Could help get it off your chest.”

Alexandria didn’t show any signs of response, choosing to stare out the window. She had never told anyone about what happened to her at HYDRA, although to be far she had only been at the school for a few months.

When she spoke, Logan was shocked but kept his expression neutral. “When I was nine, there was a new kid brought in. He was around 5 years old, didn’t speak Russian and only a little English. He reminded me of myself when I was first brought there.”

“I had been there for 6 years at that point, and the boy wasn’t used to the little bit of porridge they would give us for the day. So, I would give mine to him. They found out after 3 days and said that I was disobeying them and they had to punish me for it. The woman threw me out into the recreational field that was never used and kept me out there for thirty hours. In that part of Russia, it snows heavily and is almost always below freezing.”

Alexandria stared down at the sleeve of Logan's leather jacket, her voice low but tinged with a raw edge. “When they brought me back inside, they had one more punishment for me. They ended up killing that boy in front of me all because I had given him my food.”

The words hung heavy in the air, their gravity settling over the booth. Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, just took a long sip of his black coffee. Alexandria’s gaze remained fixed on the jacket as if it could offer some kind of solace or escape from the memories she had just shared.

The waitress returned with their breakfast, setting down a stack of pancakes and a caramel frappe in front of Alexandria, and a plate of eggs and bacon for Logan. Alexandria barely acknowledged the food, her attention still drifting through her painful recollections. Logan glanced at the pancakes with a look of mild disapproval but said nothing.

The conversation had shifted, but the silence between them was filled with the unspoken weight of Alexandria's revelation. Logan’s usual gruff exterior softened just enough to show a flicker of concern. He took another sip of his coffee, staring out the window as if searching for the right words.

“Shit, Alexandria,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “That’s rough. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Alexandria shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, though the pain in her eyes betrayed her. “It’s not about what I deserved. It’s what happened. I don’t expect anyone to understand, or care.”

Logan gave her a pointed look. “I get it more than you might think. Doesn’t mean you’ve gotta keep it all bottled up. Sometimes talking helps, even if it doesn’t fix things.”

She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I’m not good at talking. I’m better at... handling things on my own.”

Logan grunted, pushing his plate aside as he finished his coffee. “Handling things on your own can work, but sometimes it’s better to let someone in. Helps to lighten the load, even if just a little.”

Alexandria took a sip of her frappe, the sweetness of it a stark contrast to the bitterness of her memories. “You’re making it sound like you’ve got experience in this department.”

Logan’s eyes met hers, his expression unreadable. “Let’s just say I’ve seen my fair share of shit. Doesn’t make it easier, but sometimes it helps to talk about it, even if it’s just to get it out.”

She mulled over his words, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. “Maybe. But right now, I just want to focus on getting better. Deal with the stuff that’s actually in front of me.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said, his tone softening slightly. “Just remember, you don’t have to go through it alone. We’re here. You’ve got people who care, even if you don’t always see it.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, her gaze returning to the window. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They ate in silence, the clinking of cutlery and the low hum of conversations around them filling the gaps between their words. Logan's attention was split between his meal and the occasional glance at Alexandria, who was lost in her own thoughts.

The doorbell dinged as another person entered. Wade, who was still suited up, came to stand by the table, “you geriatric fucker.” He pointed at Logan before putting a hand on Alexandria’s uninjured shoulder, bringing her closer to him. “You’re poisoning the child’s mind.” He covered her eyes with his hand, “this fucker clearly has no niceness in a single one of his shiny metal bones.”

Logan sipped his coffee in response and Alexandria moved Wade’s hand away from her face.

Wade plopped down next to Logan, grinning as if he’d just pulled off a grand prank. “So, did you two have a heart-to-heart while I was snoozing?”

Alexandria shot him a tired look, her fingers still wrapped around her caramel frappe. “Not exactly a heart-to-heart. Just... talking.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, his grin fading as he noticed the subdued mood around the table. “You’re not exactly glowing. What’s eating you?”

Alexandria shrugged, her eyes drifting back to the window. “Just... old memories. Nothing new.”

Wade’s expression softened, but he still couldn’t resist a jab. “Ah, the classic ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ move. Well, at least you’ve got pancakes now. Nothing like syrup to make everything a little better.”

Logan grunted, focusing on his meal. “It’s not always that simple, Wade.”

Wade shot a curious glance at Logan. “Oh, are we getting deep now? Didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

Logan glared at Wade, clearly annoyed. “I’m not. Just saying there’s more to it than stuffing your face with food.”

Wade looked at Alexandria and gestured to Logan, “honey badger here was raised on boiled potatoes and chowder.”

“Fuck off, mouth.” Logan responded.

Wade continued, “see, this geriatric man here has a lot of tricks up his sleeve on how to turn nice, kind, young children into mean ones. Doesn’t help that’s he’s older than the state of Michigan itself.”

Logan grunted, clearly irritated. “Shut up, Wade. You’ve got a real talent for pissing me off.”

Wade’s grin didn’t waver. “Hey, I’m just here to lighten the mood. Can’t have you grumbling all the time.”

Alexandria took a sip of her caramel frappe, trying to ignore the banter. Her wounds throbbed under the bandages Logan had applied, a constant reminder of her recent ordeal. The warmth of the diner was comforting, but it didn’t do much to ease the pain or the memories that had surfaced.

But having Wade around wasn’t that bad.

Not at all.

helloo wade wilson! i tried writing him to the best of my abilities but he's a very hard character to write. and (spoiler alert) he doesn't appear anymore in this series, but might make some in the later parts!

#logan howlett #logan howlett x oc #logan howlett x original character #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x oc #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x wade wilson #wade wilson x oc #wade wilson x reader #logan howlett x alexandria sokolova #marvel fanfiction

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Note

I just know Felix is going to cause a scene when she wakes up. But I’m ready, I can take it.

I was a little busier this week but I’m so glad it’s Saturday and I get to share this with you all. S always, here the Terms of Endearment Masterlist.

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“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” There’s no rhyme or reason for what could have possibly just escaped Bradley Bradshaws mouth. Not only was the idea crazy, but what scared you more than anything was that you knew you had heard the mustache clad, Hawaiian shirt wearing, deep brown eye having ass Naval Aviator correctly.

“You heard me.” Your daughter, Dot, was perched up on Bradley’s lap at the bar. Penny had given her some colouring pages and a bucket of crayons to entertain her while you enjoyed two for one night at the Hard Deck with Bradley. “Is it so hard to believe?” She liked Bradley, for whatever reason—she immediately gravitated towards him as you got to know him.

“What’s hard to believe, Bradshaw, is that you’d want anything to do with me at all.” You remarked as you cut through your steak. Medium rare. You shook your head softly at the idea, God it would be such a bad idea to get involved with anyone now. “I’m not looking for a relationship.” You told him through doe eyes and a meek smile before you placed the cut piece of steak in your mouth. “I've just gotten out of a long term thing and I don’t even have my shit sorted here properly, and you’re asking me? Of all people! Out on a date?”

Bradley, with all his good graces and his ability to fall head over heels in love immediately, looked down at your daughter, changed up the coloured crayon she was currently colouring with, he thought the grass should be green—not red, and smiled as he turned back to you, sitting beside him, like you had for the past five days after work at the Hard Deck.

“I think you should take a leap and give me one chance to take you out.”

“I think you’re delusional from all those G forces you’ve been pulling.” You met his smirk, squinting at each other as Dot squealed when Bradley tickled her sides to show her he was still actively engaged with her current enrichment activity.

“Did you hear that? I think Dot here just said you should let me take you to dinner.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at how ridiculous Bradley Bradshaw looked, why he was trying it on with you you’d never truly understand. Scooping up some mashed potatoes, you held it out for Dot to take a mouthful.

“Dot has a speech impediment and can’t even say your callsign properly.” You called Rooster out on his bullshit. “I don’t need you using my daughter to get in my pants, chicken man—“

“Chicken man?” It was hard to stop yourself from laughing as Rooster beamed at you with wide, all encompassing eyes. “That was a low ball.” You just pressed your lips together and tilted your chin up, proud of yourself. “And for the record, I’m not just trying to get in your pants.”

“What are you playing then?” Bradley had been infatuated with you since the moment you opened Jake Seresins door a few weeks ago, only now you were friendly with one another, to know fault of your own. Rooster had seemingly made it his new life mission to mesmerise you, put a spell on you, he’d been on this dinner crap for two entire weeks now and there seemed to be no end in sight. He had convinced himself he had fallen in love with you—poor guy.

“Let me take you out to dinner and I’ll be happy to give you an answer.” You could feel the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks as you placed your knife and fork down, wiped your mouth with the crummy napkin, and swivelled on your chair to face Bradley properly.

“Bradshaw, trust me when I tell you I am the last person you want to get involved with.” You sighed, keeping Bradley’s gaze as he matched your energy and swirled his legs out from under the bar, bumping yours as Dot reached out to you with grabby hands—she was done with her colouring and just wanted her mum. “I'm damaged goods, I don’t play well with others, I’m a single mothers, you hardly know me and I’m living in my brother's spare bedroom—what about me screams love of your life?”

Rooster didn’t answer right away. He simply eyed you off as you snuggled your cheek against Odettes as she cuddled into you. Giggling as she grinned ear to ear. Yep. He wanted you, all of you—and your little girl too.

“Hard work is good for the soul.” Was all Bradley replied with as he finished his beer, noticing the sippy cup of juice you’d ordered Dot was empty. “And something tells me you’d be worth the grueling effort, Miss Fix It.” You couldn’t compute what you’d just heard, couldn’t comprehend that Bradley Bradshaw was still proposing the rhetoric that you were worth any sort of effort from anyone. “Barkeep, I’ll get another drink for Fe here and another juice for her mini me—“ Rooster fished his wallet out from his back pocket as he stood, placing a hand on the small of your back as he manoeuvred himself behind you. “Start a tab for the juices.”

“No, Penny, don't do that.” You shook your head. “I can pay for my daughter’s drinks, mine too.” Bradley kept his eyes trained on Penny as she held her hands up in defeat, knowing that Rooster would just tell her at a later date that he’d put a credit down. “You’re a menace Bradshaw.”

“And you’re gonna fall in love with me Y/l/n.” Bradley smirked, winking as he tilted your chin his way with his finger. “Only a matter of time—“

“Yeah, sure—in your wet dreams, Flyboy.” You taunted as Rooster stood so close you felt all encompassed by the scent of his cologne. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, challenging your taunt and raising you his own.

“Trust me mama, with the amount of jacking off I've been doing these days with you around? I’m losing valuable inches.” Your jaw would have hit the floor if Bradley hadn’t had his finger there, holding your head still as he leaned in over you. Closing the gap slowly, you didn’t seem to want to do anything to stop him. Because you didn’t want this to stop, despite how unavailable you really were:

“I’m gonna tell Jake you’re sexualising me, perhaps then I can get some peace and quiet around here.”

“You love it.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m gonna kiss you now—“

“Wait What?” Before you could even fathom what Bradley was doing, his lips were on yours. Softly and ever so gently, he pressed his supple lips to yours in a moment of balls and madness. If Jake walked in any second now Bradley knew he was a deadman. But he couldn’t help it—he just needed to feel your lips on his just once.

Rooster wasn’t expecting the kiss to last, he just thought he’d try and cop a sneaky peck. But when you snaked a hand around to the back of his head to keep him drawn close and against your lips? Bradley felt his entire world shift. He was down bad.

“Tooster!” Dot babbled in your lap as she brought her little hands up to push against Bradley cheek, forcing him to break the kiss and pull back. “No kiss my mamma! Ownly I kiss my mamma—“ Bradley widened his eyes in pure shock as you brought a hand up to cover your mouth and laughed at the absolute scolding your two year old had given Bradley. His cheeks were bright crimson as he tried to find the right words to say to your daughter.

“Can’t we share?” Bradley settled for that as he crouched a little to meet Dot's height in your lap as he gave you a much needed moment to compose yourself after your moment of weakness. Knowing you really couldn’t do this, not because you didn’t want to or didn’t like Bradley, but because you simply weren’t good enough for someone as kind and as beautiful as him. “My mama always said sharing was caring?”

“No, she’s my mamma.” Dot stated a matter of factly before Penny was dropping your drinks off at the bar.

“The two year old has spoken, Tooster.” You giggled. “I’m flattered by your persistence, really I am—“ You took a deep breath in and sighed. “But like I said, I'm damaged goods and you deserve better than broken.”

“My mother would turn in her grave if I didn’t see this through.” Bradley explained, knowing he was going to have to work for you so much harder than he’d ever worked for anyone ever. But you were every bit of it worth the time, the patience, the effort, everything. “I’m gonna win you over Y/n, just you watch.” Rooster left it at that, turning on his heels to go suss out the game of darts Coyote and Fanboy had started up.

“Oh, eyes peeled Bradshaw, I’ll be watching.” You shouted at him as he waved you off politely. Sending you a wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd. “In a million years, huh baby?” You cooed as you turned your attention back to Dot in your lap, her back against your chest. “Thanks for having my back, wingwoman.”

“I’m gonna pretend like I didn't see that happen.” Jake groaned in your ear as he came up behind you, thumbing the back of your head with the palm of his hand.

“Ow!!” You hissed, watching as Jake came to sit beside you in the barstool Bradley had only just moments ago vacated. “He kissed me, thump him!”

***~****~****~*****~****~****~

There wasn’t an awful lot of noise that inherently pulled you from your drugged up haze, but the steady rhythm of a heart rate monitor and the incredibly loud sound of Jake Seresin snoring has your frowning before your eyelids even peel away from one another.

“Jake—“ You grumbled, you couldn’t move your jaw. What the hell? “Wh—“ Reaching up to touch your lips, you tried to open your mouth again. Only this time you let out a whimper when you tried a little too hard, feeling wire strain and stretch as tears flooded your eyes. “Ow—“

Your face felt incredibly puffy to the touch. Swollen skin that mimicked the colours of a rainbow throbbed painfully under the tentative touch of the pads of your fingertips. You could see, barely—but you saw enough to recognise that you were in a hospital.

As you tried to push yourself up on your elbows a little more to get a better look again, you hissed out a jaw clenching groan when a sharp pain radiated across your upper torso. Clutching at the painful area under the hospital gown you found yourself in. You felt prickly stitches. Fuck.

At the sudden juxtaposition of your painful cries, Bradley shot up from the place he’d fallen asleep beside you in. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out for. But when he sat up, a drool patch remained on the side of your bed his cheek had been pressed into.

“Y/n—“ Bradley cooed, still groggy from his impromptu nap as he rubbed his eyes and slid as close to you as he possibly could in the chair he hadn’t left. “Dot’s okay, he didn’t hurt her baby, Jake was on it pretty quickly.” Bradley knew the first thing that you were going to ask about was your daughter. As he reached to push your hair up and away from your forehead, Bradley smiled at you as he stood, leaning haphazardly over you. “Please don’t try to talk too much alright? You broke your jaw, it’s wired closed for now but if you need to—move your lips, talk through your teeth.”

You simply nodded quietly in responses still frowning as Braldey took in the sight of you. His heart had never been filled with so much emotion before. He was forever grateful that you were alive, that you were such a fighter, but his heart was crying at the same time because to see you like this would bring any man to his knees.

“I love you so much you know that right?” He choked out, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth for a second to stop himself from crying. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry in front of you—not when you needed reliability and strength in numbers. He needed to be a pillar of unconditional strength and support. “You are the strongest, most fierce woman I have ever met and you have no idea what an incredible honour it is to be able to call you my girl.”

“Everything hurts.” You spoke softly and with caution as you tested the waters. “And my lips are really dry.” Bradley couldn’t help but to chuckle as he reached for the tube of lip balm on the side table. Squeezing some onto the pad of his index finger before applying a thin, glossy layer ever so attentively.

“Better?” He cooed.

“Much.” You replied. Allowing a moment of silence to fall between you as Bradley sat back down in his chair. Sighing as he turned his head to where Jake still sat sleeping in a heap. “Jake asleep?”

“Yeah—the guy passed out when he found out what happened.” Bradley explained and your heart melted. “He really does love you.”

“I know.” You sighed, you knew how lucky you were to have Jake in your life. You’d always known that. “He’s a good guy, I don’t think I give him enough credit for everything he’s done for me.” You couldn’t help but to get a little choked up. “But I don’t think I give you enough credit either, chicken man.”

“Oh woah—“ Braldey chuckled as he pulled the back of your hand up to his lips, kissing you a couple of times as he smiled against your hand. “I haven’t heard that one in a while, Miss Fix It.”

Again there was a moment of peaceful silence shared. Only until Bradley thought it was an appropriate time as ever to let you know what was going on.

“Jaidyn’s in custody.” Was all Bradley said as you took all of what that could have meant in. “Dots at Paybacks play but we talked it over and decided that when you woke up Jake was gonna go get her and take her back to his place.” The explanation had a fatal flaw, why couldn’t Jake just bring Dot here? “He just wanted to see you awake first.”

“Can he bring her here?” There was a pause you didn’t like as you looked at Bradley and the way his face remained stoic and frozen, like he was scared to death to say what he had to next. “Rooster, Jake can bring Dot here, can’t he?” Again, there was no response when you asked to see your daughter. Not because Bradley was trying to panic you—he just couldn’t get the words out. “Answer me.”

“We don't think it’s best if she sees you like this.” Nothing could have broken you more. “We think that if she saw you like this, then she’d be traumatised Fe.”

“Who’s we in this decision?” You were physically starting to get upset, Bradley could see it from a mile away. “Rooster who the fuck is we!?”

Jake Seresin had woken up around the time Bradley was glossing your lips up with his tube of carmex. But he’d chosen to give the two of you a minute to just be. He pretended to still be asleep, perhaps that wasn’t such a great idea after all. So when he was groaning out a stretch to cut the rising tension in the room. you turned your head to face him.

“We, is me—“ Jake sighed as he stood, padding over to your bedside with a solemn expression. He hated seeing you like this. “Fe I love you, and you have no idea what I’d do to protect you, but Dot can’t see you like this, you look like you just went a few rounds with Rocky Balboa.”

“Jake—“ You tried reason with him, except all Jake did was lean over, kiss your forehead softly and ever so gently, before giving you a look that spoke louder than any reason, any excuse he could speak into words.

“I’m sorry I let you down.” He whispered just above a whisper. “But I've got a chance to make sure I don’t let Dot down too, she can’t see you like this Y/n.”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me.” It was clear to everyone in the room that you were spinning off into a tailspin. “I am her mother! You have no say.” Through a painful groan, you sat up. Unbeknownst to you as you allowed your emotions to overwhelm you, Bradley was hitting the little nurse’s button to alert the nurses at the nurses station that you needed assistance and needed it fast. “You don’t get to do this to me, please don’t keep her from me.”

“I do.” Jake knew if anyone had to deal out the tough love it had to be him. There was no way Odette deserved to see her mother like this. You didn’t deserve to have to subject her to that. A few days, that’s all you’d need. Allow the swelling to go down, the colour to fade a little. “You might not like it but I do get to make that decision for you and I have, because I know you know deep down I’m right.”

“Jake, I swear if you don’t go get my daughter and bring her to me right now.” You were moving around an awful lot for someone who’d just woken up after having an entire organ removed from your body. “I’m serious!” Not that you knew that at this point.

“Y/n, you gotta stop moving around, please lie back down.” Bradley was trying his hardest to be the voice of reason as he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder—he just wanted to die when you shuttered under his touch. A momentary lapse in judgement had him forgetting about just how battered and bruised you were underneath your hospital gown. “Shit, I’m sorry Fe—“

“Please just let me see my daughter.” Both Jake and Bradley hated the fact they had to deny you that right, to see your own child. “She’s my baby, I need to see her.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed as you pleaded with Jake, you were losing control of any level headedness you had. “Jake—“

“I can’t Fe—“ Jake explained as Bradley saw one of the nurses step into your room. “It really wouldn’t be good for her to see you like this.”

“Ah, I see someone’s awake!” She beamed. “How are you feeling, Miss Y/l/n?” She smiled, sensing the tension in the room and the worry in both Jake and Bradley’s eyes as they both turned to address her. “I must say I’m a little surprised to see you sitting up like this, how about we get you back in bed to rest up while we go over some or your charts post op?”

“I don’t care about any of this, I just need to see my daughter.” You were tunnelling violently into haze, nothing was more important to you than Odette. Not even your own health and wellbeing. “I don’t care.” You wailed, trying but failing to tear your mouth open. “I don’t need these stupid monitors and I don’t need you telling me what to do and I certainly don’t need you making parental decisions on my behalf!” You were still addressing Jake who’d stepped back slightly when you flung your legs over the side of the bed, pointing a finger his way. “Go and get her!”

“Darlin—“ Bradley knew he had to intervene before this got out of hand. “It’s not just Jake who thinks it’s for the best.” He tried to sound as calming as he could. “You wouldn’t want her to see you like this, and we’re not trying to control you, we’re just looking out for Dot.”

When you turned your head to look at Bradley, he saw nothing but rage. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of that look again.

“Keeping my daughter away from me, her mother! Means you are just as malicious as him!” You spat, not thinking about what it was you were actually saying or why Jake and Bradley were doing what they were doing. It was at the point when you tried to stand, that the nurse who’d answered Bradley’s button press shifted into action.

“Oh dear—“

“He wanted to take her away from me and that's exactly what you’re doing!?” I trusted you!” You were inconsolable as tears streamed down your puffy cheeks. “I TRUSTED YOU!” As you ripped out the cannula in your forearm Jake had to intervene, he couldn’t watch this go on any longer as Bradley just stood there on the opposite side of the bed in complete shock at your hysteria. “Let me see my daughter! Don’t take her away from me!” You were just speaking into a void as Jake wrapped his arms around your tightly, holding you still as you thrashed and twisted and turned. “Don’t take her away from me, please—!”

“Y/n, you gotta stop moving—“ Jake pleaded with you as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Stop!”

“Let go of me you self righteous piece of shit!” You screamed. “I can’t believe you, how could you do this to me!? SHE'S MY DAUGHTER! And IM HER FUCKING MOTHER!!” It all sounded a little odd because you were screaming through your teeth, groning as the pain threatened to take over you. But you fought it, kept screaming, kept spewing empty insults Jake's way. Jake and Bradley could hear you all the same though, regardless of your jaw, they could hear you, understand you—It all hurt the same.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself—“ Jake spoke as softly as he could as his own rage began to bubble to the surface.

“I hate you!” It stung to hear. “I fucking hate you—!”

“Stick and stones Fe, Sticks and stones.” Jake didn’t want to front that you’d struck a raw nerve. Your vicious words played on Jake's mind like an exposed nerve ending.

“She needs to be sedated before she ruptures her sutures.” The nurse explained as she jabbed you with a pretty large amount of sedative that took effect in a few seconds as it coursed through your body. “She shouldn’t be moving around this much right after major surgery.”

“She’s my daughter—“ You cried. Feeling an overwhelming numbness’s starting to overcome you. Coaxing you closer and closer into the black tunnel vision void. “My baby—“ Jake felt you start to go limp in his embrace, he’d give you credit where credit was due. You were fighting the sedative hard. “Don’t take her away from me.”

“We aren’t Y/n, we’d never.” Jake cooed as you finally fell victim to the sedative.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Bradley exhaled as he turned on his heels and ran his hands through his sandy blonde locks. “Holy shit, what the fuck was even that—“ It broke Bradley’s heart to see you like this, so broken and scared and all out of sorts. The only thing that reassured him that he was doing the right thing was the fact that if he could barely handle seeing you like this, there’s no way Dot wouldn’t see your beat up self in her nightmares. “She’s a wreck.”

“I’ll have to let the change over staff know what happened, I’ll pop it in her chart that she's been a little difficult and needed a sedative.” Jake was quite happy to help the nurse, who’d later introduce herself as Cindy—but Jake and Braldey already gathered that information by her nursing tag, back into bed. “I don’t think that she needs anymore unpleasant opinions thrust upon her while she’s recovering.”

“There aren't many ways to sugarcoat the fact it’s in her daughter’s best interest to not see her this way.” Bradley explained.

“Are you the father?” Cindy asked as she fixed up the thin blanket over your torso, deciding she’d need to set up a whole new cannula sight. Bradley just held his breath.

“No ma’am—“

“Then I’d think carefully about the language you use in situations like this, you might be doing what’s right but try and put yourself in Miss Y/l/n’s shoes.” Nurse Cindy sighed as Jake yawned and rubbed a tired hand over his face, the sun was only just now starting to rise. Odette had been at the Fitch's all night. “She’s clearly been through hell, keeping her separated from her daughter may do more damage in the long run than good, for her at least.” Cindy shrugged, Bradley just nodded silently in agreement—he felt awful after having just witnessed you lash out in utter desperation. Female rage was no joke. “I’m gonna sort her out, perhaps you’d like to take five? Ten minutes to grab yourselves a bite to eat? A coffee perhaps?”

It was Cindy’s kind way of asking Jake and Bradley to give her some space to fix you up and do her job. Bradley, with trepidations lacing every thought he had—eventually agreed.

“I should probably go get Dot.” Jake mentioned, every minute that passed was a minute longer she had spent in fear of what was going on around her. “I’ll take her home, get her sorted and maybe we’ll do some sort of zoom call or something?” He added, walking hesitantly towards the door with Rooster. Both men were so overly exhausted both mentally, emotionally and physically to the point where you really wouldn’t have been able to blame either of them if they turned their backs now.

“I still think it’s a bad idea but hey, we’re just as bad as that dickhead for protecting her kid from PTSD.” Jake had an attitude problem, that was no secret. He’d been good over the last few months but with a mix of exhaustion and overwhelming anger, he couldn’t not help but to let out a little attitude. “But hey, mother knows best, right.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Should you be drinking this early?” By the time Jake pulled up to the Fitch household, it was nearing six thirty in the morning. “That’s like, almost something you feel like I should be concerned about?” Jake questioned as he shut the car door in the driveway. The first thing he saw when he pulled up was Amilia, enjoying a beverage in the early hours of the morning. Soaking up the sound of birds singing and the sun rising. Unbeknownst to Jake though Amilia hadn’t actually gone to bed.

“Eh, I tend to stay awake at night because I don’t even know what my favourite colour is and I’m fucking terrified that I don’t have a real personality.” Amilia remarked as she laid perched up on the patio swing. “Haven’t actually gone to bed.” A two seated she’d made a one seater by propping her let’s up across the spare cushions. “And I’m not starting, I just never stopped, I dropped Bob off last night I just thought fuck it—it’s been a long enough day, why not make it a little longer.” Jake just huffed as he made his way up the porch.

“In my opinion, drinking at six thirty in the morning isn’t normal—“ Jake stood before Amilia, looking down at her with his hands in his pockets, a tired, sunken expression on his face, and a whole lot of worry in his heart for you. “Alcohol isn’t a problem solver.”

“At the risk of sounding flippant Lieutenant, opinions are exactly like assholes.” Amilia hadn’t even opened her eyes as she took the beer bottle to her lips and finished off the amber liquid, tilting her head as far back as her neck would allow her to move. “Everyone’s got one.” She finally opened her eyes and turned all her attention to Jake as she sat up, allowing him to take a seat next to her as she sighed and let her elbows rest on her knees. “I’ve got a job interview tomorrow at some bar Reuben got me hooked up with.” Amilia explained. “I was just sampling all your American alcoholic beverages.”

“What’s the verdict?” Jake asked softly, he was hoping Amilia would have some sort of comeback for him.

“They’re weak as piss, mate.” Jake snorted as he let himself rest against the back of the swinging chair. Amilia sat back too, pulling her legs up to cross over themselves. “She alright?” There was a lingering pause between Amilia and Jake before he decided to answer. He was done. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. All Jake did was turn his head, he looked at Amilia for a few seconds before the dam broke. “Fuck, Jake—c’mere.” He did. Jake allowed himself just a moment of weakness as he let his tears fall freely as he moved into Amilias open arms. Just needing someone to tell him he was doing this right.

Jake had never cried in the arms of a stranger before. But when Jake let his cheek rest against Amilia Fisher's chest, feeling her stroke his back and card her fingers through his hair.

Jake felt home.

“I can’t deal with that.” Jake cried. He hated being the bad guy in your eyes. “All I do is put her first and what? She calls us malicious?” Jake Seresin felt like a child, crying in the arms of a woman he hardly knew because his feelings were hurt. But he’d be damned if what you’d said didn’t hurt.

“What happened?” Amilia asked softly as she just sat with Jake, allowing him to lay across her lap as she played with his hair. He was so fucking tired.

“I told her I wouldn't be bringing Odette to the hospital for a few days.” He explained with a sigh, revealing in the feeling of Amilia combing through his hair. Looking up at her through teary eyes. “No two year old needs to see their mum in the state she is currently.”

“Hmmm—“ Amilia pressed her lips together into a line and nodded, agreeing with Jake. “Why’d you nominate yourself as the villain?”

“Because I didn’t want Rooster taking the brunt of that.” Jake groaned, covering his flushed and teary face as he took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “He doesn’t deserve that, if I know Y/n—which I fucking do, she’d push him away and they need each other.” Amilia just listened, she listened to Jake pour his heart out about how much he hated being the one behind your anger, he hated being the one who said you couldn’t see your daughter right now, but he’d rather be the one you blamed for all your misery and all your displare than have you put the blame on Bradley. “She told him she trusted him like he’d broken it or something, I just hope that the next time she wakes up she doesn’t say something she’ll regret in the long run.” Jake paused as he took a moment to look up at Amilia, just drinking in the sight of her, god she was fucking beautiful. “She needs Rooster just as much as he needs her and I can’t let that asshat of an ex ruin that for her.”

“Woah, what in the world is going on out here huh?” Payback cooed as he opened the front door. He was gonna ask about what the hell was going on between Jake and his sister in law but that was a conversation for a later day. What mattered right now was getting Dot back where she belonged. “Is that uncle Jakey?” Jake sat up at the mention of his name with a groan, seeing the beautiful little girl that was Dot holding out her arms for him to take her. “You gonna tell uncle Jake how good you’ve been?”

“I been so good.” Odette mumbled softly as Jake took him in his strong arms, sitting her on his lap before she bawled her fists and rubbed at her tired eyes. “Where’s mamma?”

“She’s okay baby, just needs a few days to herself. She had to get her spleen removed and she’s all tired and isn’t very fun to be around right now.” Jake tried to explain it the best he could without upsetting Dot. “But while mama rests and recovers, you get to hang out with me and Rooster and boy do I love when I get to hang out with you.”

“What’s a spween?” Dot asked softly as Jake held his niece close to his chest, kissing the top of her head as he smiled against her hair.

“An organ, it sits right here—“ He pressed his fingertip into Dot's side and she giggled. “Mamma didn’t need hers anymore so the doctor took it out of her before it could make her sick.”

“And I get to hang out wif Tooster too?”

“Mmhmm, he’s with mama now but what we’re gonna do when we get home is start packing some of your things up because when Mama comes home you guys are gonna go live with Tooster at his place.”

“Oh shit for real?” Payback raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood watching the sun rise with Amilia, Jake and Odette. “That’s huge.”

“In the grand scheme of everything else that’s happened in the past twenty four hours I highly doubt that’s what you're shocked at.” Amilia scoffed as she stood from the swinging chair. She paused as she crouched to boop Dot on the nose. “See you cheeky girl when I’m looking at ya.” Dot smiled back before she popped one of her thumbs in her mouth, an anxious tick she’d started to develop. “See ya Jake.” Amilia turned her attention to Jake as she smiled. Leaning in to kiss his still tear stained cheek. “I’m still pretty keen on Preston’s, just text me when things cool down for you.”

“Yes ma’am.” Amilia was about to tell Jake off for calling her ma’am again, but she accepted it as a terms of endearment and left it at that.

“You know you have a job interview with Penny at one right?” Payback looked at his phone, showing Amilia the date that was clearly displayed on the Home Screen.

“I thought today was yesterday still, fuck!” She groaned. “Everythings fucking stupid here, your booze, your road rules, your stupid politics, it all makes no sense—“ Amilia stormed into Paybacks place and all he did was laugh, turning back to Jake who just sat there in the front porch with Dot in his lap. Rocking gently to keep her calm.

“Hey man, my doors always open if you need someone to talk to, you gotta offload some pressure.” Reuben was a good friend, he always had everyone’s back. Jake really did appreciate the offer.

“I think I’m gonna lose my best friend in all this mess man.” Jake held back more tears, like fuck was he about to cry in front of Odette. Biting his bottom lip as he took a deep breath, Jake sighed. “Some way he’s gonna take her, even if it is just emotionally, she’s gonna take it out on me and I’ll have no choice but to take it on the chin because I’d rather lose her and have her be alive than to lose her all together.”

“You’re doing everything you can Hangman, don’t forget that.” Payback knew whatever had happened between you and Jake had been enough to have him second guessing his entire role in your life. But he’d let it play out a little longer before running any sort of intervention.

“I wanna go home now—“ Dot mumbled against Jake's chest. He kissed her temple and agreed knowing that home was the best place for her to be right now.

“Let’s go home bubba, let’s go home.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #terms of endearment// jake seresin #bradleybradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x oc

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lil-ms-darkness · 1 year

Text

Skin Like Gingerbread - Bigby Wolf x Fem! Goldilocks! Reader

A/N: Hey, hello, hi, so I did not intend for this to become a full blown story, it was meant to just be a couple of sweet one shots because Bigby Wolf and Fables by Bill Willingham is awesome. Yet, here we are, on part three of an unexpected series.

I don't really know how many parts are going to be in this, but I hope you enjoy. I'll create a post linking all of the parts and I'll update it as I post new chapters, that way they're all in one place for all of you who enjoy this series. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 'Til Next Time! ^.^

Lil_Ms_Darkness

Content Warnings: Description of dead bodies, description of anxiety/panic

Bigby walks up to a squat brown building sandwiched between two five-story tall buildings. A metal framed door with a small frosted glass window is propped open with a chair under a worn green canopy. There is graffiti on the walls around the two larger buildings and some on one of the windows. Bigby approaches the small building and inside he finds 20 tables pushed side to side to make three long tables. Plastic chairs have been pushed to the tables, where Mundies sit and enjoy plates of food.

He looks over to his right to find another table with an array of paper plates, plastic utensils, paper cups, and four people work quickly to fill the plates with green beans, mashed potatoes, a large piece of fried chicken, and a small scoop of mixed fruit. The cups are filled with juice that smells of too much sugar. People move around the space, people coming out with more food from a back room, but his gaze lands on a young woman. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail of dirty blonde hair that falls out of a navy bandana with stars and crescent moons, exposing her strong jaw and high cheekbones. Vibrant blue eyes focus on the food as she works, her slender gloved hands generously filling the plates, and by extension, many hungry bellies. He wonders how [Y/N] has never met her, they’re extremely similar. Almost eerily so.

”Her name is Amelia.” Woody said, looking away from the Sheriff. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Where does Amelia live?” Bigby asked, arms folded.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“To corroborate your alibi, you’re still a suspect. Be grateful I’m not taking you to the Business Office for holding, until I can prove your innocence.”

Woody glared at him and his nostrils flared,

“I already told you, Wolf, I’m not a murderer! I’ve said it, [Y/N] has said it!”

“Where does she live?” Bigby asked again, his thick brows pulling together in annoyance.

Woody squared his shoulders and Bigby clenched his fists, but both of them could feel silent eyes on them, warning them against brawling without a word. Woody sighed, “I won’t tell you where she lives, but she volunteers at a soup kitchen in the Bronx. It opens at nine, and she never misses it.”

“What’s the name of it?”

“The Cozy Spot.”

Bigby nodded and his gaze had drifted back to [Y/N], sitting quietly on the couch. She continued to stare out the window after the two didn’t start exchanging blows.

“[Y/N],” he called, and she turned to look at him slowly, silently. Her eyes were distant, wounded. He hated the look of that distance, “-go to the Business Office. Tell Snow you’re to stay there until I get back. You’re under watch until I’m convinced your life is not in danger.”

She pushed herself up and walked away towards the front door, stopping briefly at Woody’s side. She looked up at him, offering a small smile.

“I’ll see you later, thank you for your help today.”

Now, Amelia briefly looks up at him as he approaches. She offers a kind smile, grabbing a plate before her brows furrow in recognition, then widen slightly.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf,” her voice is warm and inviting, but he can tell she’s nervous. “I, uh, how can I help you?”

“I need to ask you some questions.” he answers, gaze drifting to the others still filling plates. A young man looks up at them, curiously, then focuses on Amelia.

“It’s okay, Mel, I’ll cover for you.” he smiles, softly. She smiles at him in return and his cheeks tint before he returns to work. Amelia removes her gloves and drops them in the trash, then she unties her apron and hangs it on the wall hook. She guides him to the back room, through the kitchen and into a small office like room. She closes the door and looks at him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wolf? I don’t think I’ve ever been visited by you before.” she says, regarding him, cautiously. She takes a step back and sits in the chair, folding her legs and keeping her hands close to herself. He isn’t surprised by her defensive body language, everyone in Fabletown keeps their guard up with him around. It’s both beneficial and a pain in the ass.

“Were you with the Woodsman last night?”

“Yes, why?”

“He’s a suspect in a case, when were you and the Woodsman together?”

“Oh, uh, I’d say from seven, yesterday evening, to seven this morning,” she examines his face, concern written across her face, “What kind of case is it?” she asks, voice wavering slightly.

“Don’t worry about it. That’s a long visit, why did he leave so late?”

“His friend called and said she needed his help. I didn’t ask too many questions,” she shifts, uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’d like to know what he’s a suspect in.”

Bigby shakes his head, “You’re not getting it out of me, so don’t bother unless you want to piss me off;” she frowns as he continues, “Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Like what?”

“Strange people hanging around that you haven’t seen before, an old friend who you haven't heard from in a while suddenly appearing, anything out of the norm?” he asks but she only shakes her head.

“No, nothing like that.”

He nods, She doesn’t seem to be a target. Yet, anyway. But that clears Woody “Thank you for your time.”

She nods and stands, walking to the door to walk him out, but he stops her. “You know you’re not supposed to be interacting with the Mundies like this.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, “I give back to anyone who needs it, Mundies are no exception.” and she’s out the door. He sighs, not wanting to bother with this when he has much more pressing matters to attend to. As she returns to her station, he makes his way out the door. Standing outside, he walks down the street towards the main street before waving down a taxi. He climbs in the back, gives the address and leans back into the seat. He looks out the window at the passing buildings and people, other cars and street signs. In his mind, a murder map begins to take shape-

Whoever the killer is, knows [Y/N] well enough to know what she wears to work, knows her scent. Red, the Woodsman, the Bears - but the Bears are at the Farm, if they had left Snow would know about it. Woody was cleared by Amelia, and Red hasn’t been seen in at least a century. He digs a knuckle into his temple as he traces the lines of the map along the glass with his gaze. Who else knew Goldy personally? He thought about her soft eyes, the muffin with butter, the way she spoke to him without a care. He sighs, Who doesn’t know her? She’s not exactly subtle.

The taxi slows to a stop outside the Business Office and he climbs out, steps to the passenger side and holds out some cash.

“Keep the change,” he muses, and the driver snorts.

“Thanks,” the driver grumbles, pulling off. Bigby pushes open the gate and closes it behind him. Trusty John, the doorman, smiles and opens the door for him,

“Good morning, Sheriff.”

Bigby nods his greeting and steps inside, where Grimble sits, arms folded and eyes drooping. When he sees Bigby, he perks up and nods a greeting, but Bigby has already seen him. He says nothing, though, he’s used to Grimble falling asleep on the job. He makes his way to the large room where King Cole and Snow White keep the Fable community running and beyond human detection. Snow sits at her desk, sifting through papers. King Cole is not here, which is not surprising.

He looks around, but is surprised to find that [Y/N] is not present, either. A knot in his gut begins to tense. He approaches Snow, and she lifts her face from her work as he steps up.

“Bigby,” she sighs in what sounded suspiciously like relief, “I’ve been waiting for you, a woman is here. She said you told her to come here and wait for you.”

“I did, where is she?”

“Waiting in your office,” He nods, comforted that [Y/N] made it safely, the knot releasing slightly. He turns to walk back towards the door, but the sound of Snow’s chair scraping against the floor as she stands stops him in his tracks, “Do you have any leads on the murderer yet?”

Bigby turns halfway and looks towards her, “I’m still working on it. I have a few possibilities, though. Are all non-human looking Fables accounted for on the Farm?”

“As far as I’m aware, none of them have left, but I’ll call and double check.” she pushes in her chair and a strand of coal black hair cascades past her shoulder. Bigby watches her for a brief moment before he turns and walks out the door, making his way down the hallway towards his office.

Inside the small room, [Y/N] sits in one of the small chairs in front of Bigby’s desk. She reaches over and gathers some of the pens littering his desk and the pair on the floor. She caps them and carefully drops them back into the pen holder that was laying on its side when she’d entered. She leaves the folders and papers scattered around his desk as they are, lest she make more work for him, or ruin his train of thought for other cases.

She twirls a strand of hair in her fingers, looking around the room. It smells of cigarettes and must, although it’s not a body odor kind of must. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not unbearable either. She stands and walks around, touching the metal filing cabinets and the lip of the wooden desk. With a bored sigh, she walks around the desk and sits down in Bigby’s chair. It’s not comfortable, and she feels bad for his back and butt. She looks at the files and her hand traces the edges of one of the manila folders, his words echoing in her mind. ”-a woman is DEAD. Dead and gone.”

She feels her throat tighten and the back of her neck feels suddenly cold. A woman was dead, and everyone thought it was her. Her hand slips up to her throat, as if trying to feel her pulse and prove that she’s still alive.

She feels bile rise in her throat and the edges of her jaw feel tight, like she’s sucking on something sour. Nausea hits her quick and hard and she leans over, trying to get her breathing under control. She closes her eyes and tries to inhale and exhale, slowly. It calms her after a good few breaths, and she leans back in the chair, desperately trying to keep away thoughts of her own dead body. She wonders if she’s any better than the murderer, the woman was murdered and glamoured to look like her. The woman was a message, and it was her fault. That woman died because of her.

She wheezes again and the bitter pucker of her jowls returns, Is it the Bears? Are they coming after me after all this time? Could it be-

A low groan from the door startles her and every muscle in her body tenses, goosebumps raising on her flesh as she stands on instinct. The Sheriff steps through the door and she sighs quietly in relief, but then the memory of his rudeness at her apartment comes back up. She doesn’t miss the quirked brows as he notices her on the other side of his desk, but glancing at his desk, he makes no remark about it. She walks around as he nods a greeting before closing the door. Any other time, she’d be delighted to see him, relieved by his presence she found oddly comforting. Despite what everyone said about him, how they made him out to be, he made her feel safe. But now, she’s upset by the familiar relaxation crossing her shoulders. She wants to be upset with him, she has every right to be, doesn’t she?

"A woman is DEAD. Dead and gone" Her chest feels tight again, and she folds her legs as guilt creeps out from her bones. She smooths out the skirt of her dress, “What do we do now?” she asks, quietly.

Bigby examines her, the slump in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her eyes, the subtle shake in her voice. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his pack of cigarettes, momentarily deciding whether he wants to smoke in front of her or not. It’s his space, but she doesn’t like smoke- since when did he care if someone liked smoke or not? He pulls out his pack and pulls out a cigarette.

“Now, I decide who’s going to shadow you.” He muses as he tucks the pack back into his pocket, walking around and sitting in his chair. He ignores the low moan the chair gives out under his weight.

She nods, slowly and avoids his gaze. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

“I have a few theories, but no solid lead yet.” he answers and leans in to examine her. She shrinks back slightly under his intense gaze.

“Sheriff, I-” she starts and he waits for her to finish, already able to tell she’s trying to find the proper way to say it, “I’m sorry…It didn’t really hit me that someone is…dead. I didn’t mean to make your job harder for you. I really don’t think Woody is the killer, but I’ll stay out of your way.”

He’s surprised to hear her apologize, even more so to find that it sounds genuine. He doesn’t think Woody is the killer, either, and Amelia’s testimony that he was with her is enough to prove he was with her until [Y/N] needed him. Then again- “You were protecting someone you care about. Loyalty like that is hard to come by. I do have a question, though.”

She looks up at him, finally, “Okay.”

“What time did you call Woody for help?”

“Oh, I think around 6:30 am? I can check my phone, just a minute,” she reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small flip phone, navigating through it quickly. Even with how efficient she is, he’s amazed, technology always seemed to be against him, so he chose a mostly tech-less life. As she pushes buttons on the device, she trembles slightly. The realization must have hit her hard “-6:48 am, Sheriff. That’s when I called him to ask for help. He said he was with a friend but he’d head over to help me.”

He nods, “Alright.” he moves to take a drag off his cigarette, but his eyes spot it- unlit. He’d forgotten to even light the damn thing. He reaches into his pocket to find his lighter.

“If I may ask, who are you thinking of watching over me?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Woody, most likely.” he pulls out his lighter and lights it, but before he can bring it to the tip of his cigarette, she speaks up again.

“Can I make a request as to who?” her eyes move up to him and he tries to hide his surprise, but he isn’t very successful.

“Depends,” he says, finally lighting his cigarette, “who do you want?”

“You?” her voice is quiet, again, as she looks at her hands in her lap.

“Me? I’m going to be too busy to keep an eye on you.”

“I can come with you to the crime scenes, maybe even help you.”

“You could damage evidence.”

“In my line of work, I know how to avoid leaving fingerprints on icing, and I’m not as clumsy as most people think. Besides,” she nervously shifts in her chair, “you’re the only person I feel genuinely safe with.”

He takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before looking at her again. He knows it’s best to say no, to refuse and send her to Woody, but part of him is intrigued. He meets her gaze, and he sighs, wanting to allow it, but it’s not safe. If he’s too distracted by her, he won’t be able to do his job. Flicking some of the ash into an ashtray on his desk, he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. What about Red? It would give you both a chance to catch up.” he says, leaning back in his chair.

She frowns and sighs, but she doesn’t seem all too surprised, as if she’d expected him to say no. “Maybe you’re right, I haven’t seen her in a while. Am I free to go now?”

He nods, “If anything happens, call the Business Office. Have Woody accompany you to Red’s.”

She stands, examining him for a moment before she heads for the door. She pauses and looks over at him,

“Please find the person who did this?”

“I will.”

She smiles, somberly and walks out, closing the door gently behind her.

He groans quietly, rubbing his face with one hand, a cherry dropping onto the floor by his shoe.

The body of the glamoured Goldilocks was taken to the Business Office, discreetly, and had been laid on a stone slab with intricacies carved into the body, and a triquetra chiseled into the sides. In the Witching Well chamber, only King Cole, Snow White, Boy Blue, and Ichabod Crane would disturb him, but he knows none of them will do so. The silence is heavy as his steps echo through the chamber, the only sound to keep him grounded.

As Bigby walks up, he can smell gingerbread and baked bread, sweets, and death. Her skin is paler than when he’d first seen her, and he takes a breath before he examines her body. He brushes some of her curls aside to get a good look at the bruise around her throat, it is darker than the last time he’d seen her. Her right shoulder sits lower than her left, and he wonders how he missed it. He takes a closer look,

“Dislocated,” his gaze drifts up to her throat, “did the attacker come from behind? When she fought back, her shoulder got dislocated on purpose or by accident?” He carefully pulls down her dress just enough to check for more injuries without leaving [Y/N] indecent. He stops and corrects his thoughts, It’s not [Y/N]. It’s just a glamour. He quirks a brow as he spots a lump in her left breast, and he hesitates, then examines her face. He considers calling for Snow, briefly, then lifts the top of her dress and reaches in. He finds the more solid fabric of her bra, and reaches further before he grabs the item and quickly pulls it out of the victim's undergarments. He looks at her lifeless face, “Sorry, I had to if I want to find your killer.”

He lifts up a small tube and twists off the top, dropping out a single strand of [Y/N]’s golden hair and an incredibly small sack doll that looks like her. His jaw sets and he looks at the two items before the body glows bright green, illuminating Bigby’s shadow on the ground behind him, and bouncing off the wall on the other side. A woman with dark brown hair and pallid olive skin takes the place of the glamoured Fable, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scent.

She’s a Mundie

The bruises around her throat remain just as gruesome as they did before the glamour faded.

A Mundie was taken, glamoured to look like a Fable, and then murdered. He clenches his jaw, as everything settles in his mind. It’s worse than he thought at first, so much worse. He looks over her body and sighs, not even knowing who she is. He sighs, and his gaze lands on her clenched fists. He reaches down and tucks his fingers under hers, but her fingers are hard and stiff- rigor mortis. He tries to be as gentle as he can before giving up and forcing her hand open, hearing a grotesque crunch as he does so. A small crumpled paper falls out onto the stone slab. He picks it up, unfolds it and reads it. His eyes widen and he growls, “DAMNIT!” He turns and sprints out of the Witching Well chamber-

We know what you did, Wolf. Your hands are stained. -Red Riding Hood

#bigby wolf x reader #fem reader #bigby wolf #twau bigby #oc #fanfic

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toomanyfandoms-notenoughfics · 1 year

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Celestial Beings

Chapter Six: Mirror Mirror

Characters: Reader, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger

Summary: Dinner with the Weasleys and a bit of a tour of the house.

Word Count: 3,031

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of murder

Reminders: @rainychaosmiracle

(Y/n) had been out of the cell for a little more than 4 hours, exploring every aspect of her new room. She hadn’t found any secret pathways, no hidden jinxes, it was all safe. Her own space with seemingly no strings attached. It was a new experience for her, not having to make her entire existence as minuscule as possible.

There was a knock at the door, making her jump and drop the book she had just picked up to read. The book landed directly on her toes, making her yelp in pain. There was a muffled voice on the other side of the door, sounding concerned.

“Come in!” (Y/n) sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her foot. “I got startled and dropped a book on my foot, nothing major.”

“Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to spook you.” The lanky redheaded boy said. “Mom told me to get you for dinner, she’s making pot pies with mashed potatoes and garlic bread.”

“Oh, sure yeah I’ll be down in just a second.” she eyed the boy, watching as he avoided making eye contact with her. “Or are you supposed to escort me there?”

“I’m not sure, but I am already on thin ice with her so…” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Right, don’t want to get in any more trouble than you already are.” (Y/n) stood up, looking in the mirror of her dresser and fixing her hair. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Lead the way, little Weasley.”

“Ron. It’s Ron,” he muttered, walking just ahead of her. The closer they got to the dining room, the more pleasant the air smelt.

The dining room was brightly lit, with candles floating above the table gently. Food placed perfectly on the table, and everyone’s already sat down, chatting. The mood changes as soon as (y/n) walks in, with silence replacing the warm mood. Ron takes a seat next to Hermione, whispering something in her ear.

“I saved you a spot over here, (y/n).” Sirius patted the chair next to his own, smiling at her. “It also just so happens to be directly in front of the potatoes, which Molly says are extra delicious tonight.”

“Kids, introduce yourselves,” Molly instructed as (y/n) sat down, keeping her eyes averted.

“I’m Fred,” one of the two twin boys said, offering her a small smile.

“And I’m George,” the other said, elbowing his brother.

“I’ve met Ron, Ginny, and Hermione already.” (Y/n) reminded everyone. The children all looked at each other nervously. “Alright, can we clear the air in here? I can tell that none of you children really want me here, or trust my being here. So go ahead, let it out, it’s fine.”

“(Y/n) I don’t think-” Molly started, only for Hermione to interrupt.

“Are you actually his daughter?” the muggle-born blurted out, looking directly at her plate.

“Yes.” (Y/n) answered. “Anyone else?”

“Do you have the mark?” George asked.

“No, I’ve never had to get it. The marks are just ways to keep track of his followers, I have his blood.” (Y/n) shrugged, putting a heaping amount of potatoes on her own plate. “No need for it when you can just do a simple scrying spell.”

“How many people have you killed?” Ron inquired. Everyone looked at him wide-eyed. Everyone except (y/n), who didn’t even flinch.

“Depends,” she smirked to herself. “Do you count Death Eaters as people?”

“You’ve killed Death Eaters? Why?” Fred leaned forward, intrigued.

“Only one, it wasn’t entirely in my control. I don’t remember it, I’ve just been told that my mother never survived giving birth to me.” (Y/n) picked up a pot pie and placed it atop her potatoes. “On that note though, I would like to eat now instead of answering questions, if that’s alright with all of you?”

“Yes, let’s eat.” Remus claps his hands together, sharing a worried look with Sirius.

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chit-chat between the kids, a few conversations growing louder than the others. (Y/n) just focused on eating as much as she possibly could while she could. By the end of dinner, she was stuffed full, having eaten three pot pies, four massive helpings of potatoes, and two pieces of garlic bread. When Molly brought out the chocolate cake (y/n) nearly fainted.

“Molly, I mean this honestly, stop being such a good cook,” she said finishing her second slice of cake. “It’s unfair to everyone else. Not only to other cooks but also to those of us eating it.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that!” Molly blushed.

“I agree, Molly. You’re one of the best masters of the kitchen I’ve ever met.” Remus wipes chocolate from the side of his face. “(Y/n), I don’t mean to embarrass you but you’ve got frosting on your chin.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it in a second. I’m stuffed.” she leaned back in her chair, a smile on her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this full. It’s fantastic!”

“What, did the Malfoy’s not feed you?” Ron asked.

“No, they did, I was just kept on a very strict diet. Except for a couple of times when Lucius was teaching me how to survive in the forest with nothing.” Everyone looked at her confused. (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m going to say this once, and only once. Don’t feel bad or whatever about how I grew up. Life is unfair, get over it.”

“Kids, how about you all go to the parlor room?” Molly suggested, gathering up their empty plates. “I think Remus and Sirius want to have some quality time with our guest.”

The children all quietly left, mumbling quick “goodbyes” and “good nights” to the adults as they left. Molly went to the kitchen, taking all of the empty plates and dirtied cups with her. Remus got up and shut the door to the hallway while Sirius closed the one to the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” (Y/n) looked at the men nervously.

“What? No, you aren’t in trouble, (y/n).” Remus chuckles, taking his seat. “We just wanted to see how you were liking your new room, besides you still need a tour.”

“Want anything to drink?” Sirius asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I’m fine, thanks.” she shakes her head. Sirius shrugs and sits down, taking a drink of his wine. “It’s a nice room. I’m still not completely used to it, it’s only been a few hours after all.”

“Are the decorations to your liking?” Sirius inquired.

“Yeah, they’re great… I’m sorry I feel like I did something wrong still.” (Y/n)‘s eyes darted between the men.

“I’m being honest, you’re not in any trouble,” Remus reassured her, offering a comforting smile. “Now, while Sirius finishes his drink, would you like me to give you a tour?”

“Uh, sure.” (Y/n) stands up and follows Remus to the hallway. He passes the stairs and turns down another hallway.

“This is the way to the first-floor bathroom, two of the guest rooms, and the laundry room,” Remus explains. “Now if we go back this way,” he leads her to the hallway in front of the stairs connecting to the dining room. “I’m sure you can tell that that’s the front door.”

“Well the extreme barrier spell in front of it might be a bit of a clue,” she says sarcastically. “You know, that or the coat hangers and shoes next to the door might also give it away.”

“Right, well to the left of the front door is the living room, then you’ve got the music room, the parlor room, and your first restricted room.” Remus points at each doorway. “There’s also a cleaning closet right under the stairs I forgot to mention.”

“Do I get to know what the “restricted room” actually is, or do I get to put it together myself?” she asks

“It’s an old room that’s falling apart, to be honest.” he sighs. “It was stuffed full of old furniture and tools.”

“So it’s just a mess? Lame, I was hoping you were doing some cool experiments.” (Y/n) looked genuinely disappointed. Remus chuckled and headed up the stairs, (y/n) following behind him quickly. She tripped on the top step, reaching for the railing on the wall to catch herself she instead pulled a curtain off of a portrait.

“YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED! YOU BLOOD TRAITORS!” the woman in the painting started screaming at the top of her lungs. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! OUT ALL OF YOU!”

“Fucking hell, shut up, Mother!” Sirius shouted, running up the stairs and quickly covering her with the curtain once more. “For Merlin’s sake, she never changes.”

“That was your…” the young woman trailed off, confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, wake her?”

“It’s not your fault, (Y/n).” Remus helps her up, gently dusting off her shoulders. “You didn’t trip on purpose, and you also didn’t know about her portrait. We keep her covered, otherwise, she just yells.”

“I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight. Suddenly sleep sounds very pleasant.” Sirius flashes a quick smile and pushes past the two others. “Goodnight to the both of you. (Y/n) if you need anything later, feel free to knock.”

“On that lovely note, let’s continue.” Remus turns and begins walking. (Y/n) stays frozen in place, her eyes flicking from the portrait to Sirius’s door as he disappears. “(Y/n)? Are you coming?”

“Do I sound like that?” she asked quietly, not looking at him. “Do I sound that, that cruel?”

“What?” Remus was taken aback. “(Y/n), Sirius’s mother and you are nothing alike. Not really, sure you’ve said a few similar things, but that’s as far as that goes. She was cold, all the way through. Nothing Sirius ever did could please her, not that she ever really wanted to be pleased. She refused to listen to anything other than her own twisted opinions.

“You’ve met Bellatrix before I imagine? She was a lot like her, angry at the world and in love with destroying anything she couldn’t have. She was a follower of your father, a devout one too. Pulled Sirius’s brother into it too.” Remus paused. “Don’t tell him I told you anything about his brother though. It’s a touchy subject.”

“I still don’t see how I’m any different.” she frowned.

“(Y/n), you’re standing in front of me, a werewolf, and having an actual conversation. You’re changing, whether you mean to or not, it is happening.” Remus places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve had these ideologies forced down your throat, literally branded into your brain since you were an infant. Of course, you’ve said and probably done a lot of horrible things, but you’re not entirely at fault. You’re learning still.”

“I guess.” she sighs. “Let’s just continue the tour.”

“Well, let’s finish this floor for the night, and then you can go to bed. There’s a room that Sirius wanted to show you with me.” Remus continues, showing her the bathrooms, the other bedrooms, and the small dusty library that needed a lot of TLC.

Remus ended his small tour by walking (y/n) to her room door, bidding her goodnight and good dreams before going into his own bedroom. She was just about to enter her room when she heard someone whispering down the hall. She poked her head out but saw no one in the vicinity. Very carefully and quietly she tip-toed closer to where she believed the voice had come from. A floorboard creaked just outside of Sirius’s room, making her freeze in place, patiently listening for footsteps.

After what seemed like forever, (y/n) decided it was safe enough to continue. The whispering seemed to get slightly louder the closer she got to the darkest part of the hall. She passed by a few sleeping portraits, being as careful as possible not to disturb them. Her only source of light anymore was the faint glow from the hallway behind her and the barrier spells pulsating as she got closer to where she probably wasn’t supposed to venture. Suddenly instead of the reds through the greens of the barrier, she saw something surrounded by an electric purple, bright enough to make her squint.

Carefully, she reached forwards, lightly brushing the top of the strangely colored object. As soon as her fingers touched the cold metal she knew what it was; a hand-held mirror. Grasping the handle she turned it around so she could see her reflection, trying to make out what was being said. It wasn’t until she brought it up closer to her face that she noticed it wasn’t her in the reflection.

(Y/n)‘s blood ran cold, her breathing paused, and her face paled. It was her father in the mirror, looking directly at her, a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes whatsoever. She dropped the mirror like it was a hot iron, making a loud thud on the ground. She jumped backward hard enough to knock the lighting fixture off the wall. Sirius’s door swung open at the end of the hall.

“(Y/n)?” he called out, just barely seeing her at the end of the darkened hall. He quickly made his way to her. The closer he got the more he could see she was shaking. “(Y/n), what’s going on? (Y/n)?”

“I-I heard… I thought that-that it was just something old. I didn’t, I didn’t think he could do that.” she pointed at the mirror. “He was just, smiling at me.”

“You don’t mean… (y/n) please tell me you’re not talking about You-Know-Who.” Sirius reached for the mirror but she kicked it farther away.

“Don’t. I don’t know what he would do if he saw…you.” (Y/n) warned, doing her best to keep breathing. “I can, I can get rid of it. Maybe he doesn’t know, right? Maybe he thinks that I have a mirror in my… my cell?”

“(Y/n) look at me, please.” Sirius pleaded. “Please, tell me it wasn’t him.”

“I-I wish I could, I really, really wish I could.” she started sobbing uncontrollably. Sirius wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to comfort her. “He always knows, always!”

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else for a bit, okay?” Sirius helped her up, heading to his room. “Here, I’m going to go and get Moo-Remus real quick, you go in my room and make yourself comfortable okay?”

(Y/n) nodded, opening his door and entering the room. It wasn’t quite what she expected. It was messy, yes however it was more clutter than trash. Like he had too much stuff and not enough space. His bed was unmade, a pile of blankets on the floor next to it. There was a small desk with a lamp in one corner, papers and letters stacked on top. She sat on the old fraying chair next to the bed, grabbing a knitted blanket and wrapping it around herself.

She could hear Remus and Sirius talking outside the door. They were worried about what Voldemort possibly knew, what plans he might’ve heard, and how long he could’ve been listening for. They also were talking about (y/n), nothing she could quite make out, only catching a few words here or there. She tightened the blanket around her, bringing her knees to her chest. They walked in, Sirius hushing the other.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Remus asked, his hands fidgeting.

“You think I knew, don’t you?” she accused. “You think I had something to do with… I just heard whispering and went towards it. If I knew what that was, I wouldn’t have even touched it.”

“Hey, no one is accusing you of anything,” Sirius said softly, stepping in front of Remus. “We’re worried about you, that’s all.”

“(Y/n), I didn’t hear any whispering when I left you at your room,” Remus told her, watching her eyes tear up slightly.

“I heard it, I swear!” she pleaded. “It sounded like someone calling for me at first, over and over. The closer I got to… to the mirror it got louder, but I couldn’t understand it.”

“Remus now isn’t the time for this,” Sirius warned. Remus nodded in agreement.

“Of course, you’re right Pads.” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry (y/n), it’s just a lot to take in.”

“It’s fine.” she lied, plastering a fake smile on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’m fine, I think I just need some sleep.”

“(Y/n), it’s okay if you don’t want to be by yourself tonight,” Sirius tells her, confused by her sudden change in demeanor. She had gone from a sobbing mess to calm and collected in a matter of moments. “One of us can stay in your room with you if you want, or you can stay in here. Your choice completely.”

“No, I’m just being over dramatic again. I’ll be fine, truly.” she placed the blanket back on the pile, heading to the door. “I’ll just head to bed though, sleep it off.”

“Overreacting?” Remus quirked his eyebrow, looking confused at Sirius.

“Yeah, it happens sometimes.” she takes a deep breath, avoiding their eye contact. “Good night you two. Sorry to have bothered your rest.”

As quickly as everything happened she pretended it didn’t. She left both the men confused in that room as she went into her own, ignoring the sound of whispers further down the hall. She closed the door silently and immediately fell to the ground, doing her best to keep her composure. She forced herself onto her feet and flopped down on the bed, utterly exhausted from the day.

As tired as she was she couldn’t sleep, only seeing her father’s face smiling at her in the mirror whenever she closed her eyes. His teeth bared, almost laughing at her. It was almost enough to drive her mad. She curled up in a blanket, deciding to do her best to keep her eyes open.

~~{𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘪𝘹}~~

#remus lupin x reader x sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter imagine #molly weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #voldemort

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