#Like she fought her entire life to be on the side of good and yet was always pushed into evil

[the-magpie-archives]

I can never decide in my mind what Daisy looks like when she succumbs to the hunt, and i rather like it that way. Becoming animalistic, losing that grasp of humanity that even monsters get to hold into us a terrifying concept.

Everyone knows about werewolves- whether or not you pretended to be one as a child everyone knows that to be a werewolf is to be cursed. To be such a beast that you lose control over yourself; and in turn you curse your loved ones by allowing them to watch you turn into something beastial and other.

Those of you who grew up engaged in spirituality will also be aware of the bone aching horror of seeing the wrong spirit in a body. Watching that canine thing look at you with human eyes, say things to you that a creature of that calibre should never be able to articulate, yet it says these things to you nonetheless.

Equally, many know the fear of seeing a thing that may once have been a human and for all intents and purposes appears to be, but again is simply wrong. The soul is misshapen and all that you can see in the eyes of the one you once loved is an undying, uncontrollable hunger. Even the positive actions it takes are to feed the hunger, you can't trust a person if you do not see a person when you look at them.

Whatever variation of these things daisy became after laying down her life to serve the hunt, it placed Jon, Martin, and most of all Basira in a place of nauseating terror.

To see something that's wrong, beastly, warped, is enough to hold you where you stand, but to see someone you love devoid of all that really makes them themself? Agonising.

[coweye]

Just Logan

The worst Logan part ii

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 10k words

Summary: You return from the void ready to navigate your new reality with the not-quite-love-of-your life. Second Part to worst Logan.

Warning: Mentions of drugs, Canon Typical Violence, gratuitous Laura paternal love. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, assplay mentioned.

AN: Fair warning my loves - this hasn’t been proof read… unless you’re reading this after the 26th August! I’m currently posting this on my phone at an airport 💖 I love you all so much and can’t express how much your love for my stories has meant to me!

Achilles once said “I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. and I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion."

For seven excruciating years you’d been without him. 

Eventually, time had dulled the ache, made it so you forgot what it was to have another hold you through the night, to make you feel safe and loved. Love was like a drug; one you had unknowingly spent the past half a decade weaning yourself from.

Then he appeared; ‘The worst Logan’ as Wade had not-so-affectionately dubbed him, and in one fell swoop undid years of hard work. He came and reminded you just how fucking good drugs were - that motherfucker was class-A narcotics and he was addictive as hell.

By mid morning you were already desperate for another hit, your eyes searching for him around every corner.  Part of you was afraid you had gotten him all wrong, that perhaps you didn’t know this man as well as you thought you did. Though at the last second Logan had shown up, unfolding him from the boot of the Honda and joining the fray, every inch the hero he insisted he wasn’t. 

You and Laura sliced a path through your enemies, side by side, the two of you moved in perfect synchronisation. In the years since his death, she had taken Logan’s position in your formation, and now the two of you fought together as naturally as breathing. 

Logan couldn’t help but watch the two of you together for a moment, though after a knife to the ribs as reward for his lack of awareness, he shakes his head free from the indulgence of his ready-made-family and returns to the task at hand, carving his way through the enemy to get to Cassandra. 

 It had been a hard-won battle, though Laura had been extraordinary. You, yourself had been outmatched with the Juggernaut, only in a position to bend the light keeping yourself from sight as you inflicted shallow cuts with your blades along his arms and torso creating confusion and pain that allowed Laura to find her openings.

Your girl sliced through his Achilles bringing him to his knees before she ended his life with four claws through his chest. 

In your eyes, as she stared down Goliath her soft features melted into a renaissance painting. A woman in her own right, overflowing with untold power, those shades making her look every inch the badass motherfucker you knew she was.

You can’t help your untimely realisation that your daughter has grown into a formidable woman as you propel her through the air with bubbles of psionic energy to deliver the helmet to her not-quite-father and Wade.   

The brief moment of triumph as you overcome Cassandra’s men is followed in quick succession by the sobering loss of Logan for a second time, as he leaps through the golden shimmering portal.

It had been the plan all along, and yet you couldn’t quite account for the stone in your stomach weighing you down at the realisation he is gone yet again.

Laura’s deep brown eyes, all too often full of difficult emotions, are hidden behind the colourful sunglasses, though you can tell from the fall in her shoulders that your girl feels the same grief. She had held out childlike hope that the two of you would stay with him despite his earlier brush off and you are far too ashamed to admit you had been harbouring similar hopes.

To have gotten him back for a single day only to lose him again, for you it is painful. For her, it must be torment.

So, you put a pin in your pain for now. Loss is an old friend, one that will no doubt visit in the dead of night when sleep inevitably evades you, but Laura needs you.

Swallowing your grief deep down, you begin by tucking her wild dark hair back behind her ears and with the bone of your knuckle you wipe an errant splatter of blood from her brow.

Around you, your team bask in the defeat of Cassandra and her people, yet the two of you mourn losing yet another Logan.

“The time we had with him was a gift.” You whisper to her. The second you touch her palm with your finger tips; her claws instantaneously retract. You interlock your fingers with her own bloodied ones. 

For a moment the two of you stand together like this, coming to terms with the loss. It doesn’t destroy you the same way North Dakota had, but it has certainly taken the air from your lungs. 

“What now?” Laura asks, burying her emotions, more like Logan than you care to admit.  

“Now we find a way to get back home, Cassandra’s not hunting us anymore, maybe we can-“

“Miss Y/LN, Miss- “At the sound of an unfamiliar voice your head whips round and you are armed with a knife before you even make the decision and from the telltale ‘snikt’ behind you so is Laura.

 “Holster your weapons.” The agent shouts as the group of forgotten heroes turn their gaze on the TVA squad who have appeared from the orange glowing doorway. “You have been offered a pardon on order of the time variance authority - please come with us.”

 Laura steps forward, though you place a steady hand on her shoulder stopping her in her tracks. “The last time we trusted you people, we ended up in this dump.” You shout across the gulf that the agents have left between you. 

When has anything in life been this easy?

 “Mr Howlett and Mr Wilson saved the multiverse. All they have asked in return is for a second chance for the people who helped them do it.”

Whilst remaining utterly compelling it still feels far too good to be true. You look at your daughter; she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and nods once. She’s not a little girl anymore and she wants to go through the damn doorway.  With little in the way of options you decide with a deep sigh to be an optimist, which is how you end up in Wade Wilson’s apartment.

Five people (six if you include Dogpool) living in a two-bedroom apartment was …  to put it lightly, snug. Wade being the secret gentleman he was, offered up his room to you and Laura.

Nights he didn’t spend at Vanessa’s were spent sharing a bed with Al, much to her delight, which left Logan sleeping on the couch.

Logan: This Logan was nothing short of an enigma to you. 

The two of you had been friendly, smiling and laughing, sitting together at the party Wade had thrown to celebrate saving the universe.

It felt good, easy even to joke with him and Laura. You had felt like a real family as you sandwiched the young girl between the two of you, taking it in turns to make her laugh.

When she had abandoned the two of you to talk with Yukio and Ellie,  you had fallen into comfortable companionable silence. The simple fact of the matter was that you didn’t have much in the way of small talk, all of your talk was massive talk. A mountain you’d soon have to overcome, but neither of you wanted to break the spell.

So, you simply enjoyed each other’s company and when your knee knocked against his under the table, you didn’t bother pulling back. Instead, when he didn’t immediately recoil, you left it there pressed against the warm muscle. 

This casual touching was new to both of you and you were drunk on it, occasionally you’d brush his plaid covered bicep as you leaned across to stroke the monstrosity that was Mary Poppins or you’d brush your fingers against his with a smile when you handed him a fresh beer.  

It’s fair to say, you are both black belts at emotional avoidance. 

Her abandoned airbed, more electrical tape than plastic at this point, lies deflated in the corner of the bedroom, dual holes from slender claws having led to its untimely end.

With a sigh you rise, stretching your aching back. 

Wincing as it cracks from contorting on the edge of the double mattress- even in the goddamned void, you’d had more personal space than this.

Sparing a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, you see it’s 6:23am. In a vain hope you just listen to the sounds of the quiet apartment, no one else has awoken yet. You sigh with relief, desperate for some alone time, after living for a week with everyone underfoot. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you as silently as possible, you tiptoe with bare feet with the honest intention of going to the kitchen for some coffee.

Only you’re sidetracked by the man sprawled across the sofa looking like he was carved from goddamn marble.

The blanket is wrapped around his plentiful jean covered thighs as his bare size twelves extend comically over the arm of the sofa. Logan’s thick, veined and extremely bare arm hangs off of the leather cushion, whilst the other clutches a pillow under his head. Logan is wearing a white vest that leaves very little to the imagination, so much so you’re unable to help the flashback of stroking the abs you know linger below the almost transparent white cotton. You’re unsure how long you stand there, but it can’t be more than 30-seconds before his eyes wearily blink open, startling you.

“Paint a picture, it’ll last longer, Bub.” When he speaks, his voice is even thicker than usual with sleep, it’s like honey on gravel and it makes your skin tingle.

“Uh-” You’re lost for words after being caught ogling the sleeping man. All you can do is a quick apology as you carry on through to the kitchen.

When you’re safe from view, you slap palm to your forehead - Why? Why couldn’t you for once in your life just be smooth? 

The second you're out from under his searing gaze a million infinitely suaver responses flood your mind. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ ‘Don’t tempt me.’ 

You’re nearly (Y/A+7 years) old, not the idiot girl that pined after the unattainable bad boy of the mansion. For the love of all that’s holy; two different versions of that man have been inside of you, and you ran away!

You’re pacing in front of the fridge when you hear his body slide against the leather of the couch. Honestly, you’re praying for the void to swallow you back up as you try to act casual, filling the coffee machine with water.

 “Mornin’.”

“Good Morning, Logan.” You reply though you can’t quite meet his eyes as you flick the switch for the drip to begin. 

“Back on the couch - Eh, I was just kiddin’ around, Bub.” He scratches his neck awkwardly.

“Oh. I, uh, I know.” You reply, finally meeting his eyes. Those hazel eyes stop you in your tracks as they scan your face for any trace of emotion. He’s as out of his depth as you are, and that thought alone calms you. “I’m sorry, If i’ve been strange the past few days… I thought…I just assumed I would never make it out of the void and I was there for months and uh-”

“Bub… y/n... I don’t hold you to what happened that night.”

“What?” You narrow your brows in confusion, you were only going to talk about the uncomfortable adjustment period to regular life.  

“You were vulnerable, I look like your guy. I get it.” His voice is still deep and he’s trying to be so understanding and noble, you can’t help as you reach out and grab his bare wrist, your forefinger can't even meet your thumb as you hold onto his thick warm flesh.

“Logan, no that’s not what I meant at all. I-” 

“-Mornin’ love birds! Don’t let me stop ya’ from takin’ care of that mornin’ wood, just getting some delicious nectar of the gods.” Wade comes from the bedroom wearing Al’s lilac dressing gown and what looks suspiciously like the older woman’s pyjamas, riding far too high up his shins to be his own for the much taller man. Wade leans against the counter next to you and the coffee machine, burying himself in the neck of the dressing gown and looking pointedly at your hand around Logan’s wrist and whispers. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

“God give me strength, Wade.”  Somewhere along the way, Logan’s rage with the mouth has dampened to the point there’s no real threat behind the warning.

As there’s probably about a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, every fresh drop plinks against the glass jug only enhancing the newfound silence in the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Wade.” You sigh finally, rubbing your thumb against the hair covered flesh of Logan’s wrist in a promise as you try to use your eyes to communicate; we will discuss this. 

“Honestly, I’m not even here. Just go back to staring longingly at each other, talk amongst yourselves.”

“Fu-” Logan starts, his nose flaring at the man beside you, his finite patience already slipping.  

“Incoming.” Wade sings-song lowly, as he drops his head onto your shoulder.

“What are we all doing in the kitchen?” Laura asks through a yawn, her bed head innately ridiculous standing up on all sides - probably from a night spent tossing and turning, kneeing you in the spine. When Logan tears his wrist away from your hand it stings a little, but you understand, the last thing Laura needs in her life is more confusion.

“There’s a line for the coffee, kiddo.” Logan gives her a look that's somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The man’s sharp edges were slowly being worn away again and he was really trying with his daughter, though a tiny growl leaves the young woman at his words.

“She’s not a morning person.” Is the only answer you have for him when he looks your way both confused and quite frankly a little frightened as your daughter takes the first cup of coffee and returns to her room slamming the door behind her with her foot.  

“Teenagers, huh? Whatcha’ gonna’ do with them?” Wade sighs, still leaning his head on your shoulder having made no effort to stop the queue jumper.

Logan gives Wade a meaningful look and tilts his head towards the door, which the man currently invading your personal space bubble continues to ignore. 

There’s something about Wade you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed by. 

Those years on the run with Charles, Logan and Caliban had been so hopeless, so void of laughter, that the man with the constant jokes puts you at ease, makes your heart feel lighter. Wade makes you smile which has been a rare commodity in recent years.

Perhaps it's the fact he makes the world feel a little lighter that makes you so willing to tolerate the overly familiar head on your shoulder. 

The two men are having a silent conversation, as you stare at the fridge awkwardly.

“I…uh… I think I’ll jump in the shower.” You detangle yourself from Wade and place a meaningful hand on Logan's arm. “Talk later?”

He looks to your hand, and then to your face and simply nods. 

Only, you don’t end up talking later, because after your shower, you return to your bedroom hell bent on getting dressed and heading out into the city for the day to get some distance before you start your new job tomorrow.

That’s when you find Laura twisting her hands and waiting for you. The second you close the door behind you, she stands.

“You alright, bug?” You ask, giving her the opening she so desperately needs. 

“I, um, have some news.” She can barely meet your eyes, a trait you’re sorry to say she’s picked up from you. 

“Yeah?” You prompt, taking her hand in yours.

“I want to join the X-Men.” Your mouth opens involuntarily to reply, but no words can find their way up your throat; you’re irrevocably thrown. 

In the years since the devastation Charles had wrought on the manor, you hadn’t been able to muster the strength to return to West Chester.

“I know, you might not be sold on the idea but I want to use my powers for good, I don’t want to get a normal job - not that the coffee shop isn’t great for you - but I’m-”

“It’s great, Laura.” Your voice sounds wrong even to your ears. “I’ll do my best to get used to being back in the Mansion-”

“No.” You can tell it slips out, she honestly doesn’t mean it to. “I … I, uh, want to join the X-Men, me. I want to go alone.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the deflated sound of your voice, you hadn’t foreseen your daughter breaking up with you when you woke up this morning.

“No, mamá,” She takes your hand in hers, desperate to fix it. “I love you and I can’t ever repay-”

“No, Laura.” You tell her. She looks terrified before you rush to finish. “You don’t ever have to repay me. You are fucking magnificent, so you go be an X-Man. I love you so much.” 

She wraps her arms around your middle, buries her face in your  shoulder and squeezes, she's just as tall as you are now at nineteen years old and fuck if it doesn’t break your goddamn heart.. “If you get yourself hurt with those do gooders, I’ll fucking kill you.”

After dressing and many more tearful hugs as the two of you talk logistics, it's decided she’d be heading over to the mansion in the morning. 

You start work and so does she.

Your heart drops when you hear she’s put off telling you for the past five days, ever since she’d had the offer from Ellie and Yukio at the party. 

Later that evening telling Logan goes, well, about as well as you might expect.

“No.” He growls furiously. “Absolutely, no fuckin’ way.”

“Logan-” You try.

“You agreed to this?” He’s blind to reason as he turns on you. Al and Wade both sit in the living room, having called an ‘urgent family meeting’. 

“I for one think it's a great idea! - not that we haven’t loved having-” One look from Logan does what you had up until this very moment thought impossible and shuts Wade up. 

“Logan, she’s an adult - she wants to join them. We should be supportive.”

“Supportive?!” He’s incredulous as he laughs harshly, voice utterly brimming with condescension when he continues. “You forgettin’ what happened there, huh, bub? You and I are the fuckin’ sole survivors - Last of the class! How's your Storm doing? Your Hank? Your Scott? Oh wait, their all fuckin’ dead!”

Your Logan never spoke to you this way. Never directed that fire within him at you, it's unfair, the comparison, you know this but your brain is misfiring with shock. 

Had your Logan ever truly cared about anything this much when you’d been together in those dark days? Had all the fight truly left him back then? Had the two of you just ended up together out of mere convenience?

When you don’t reply, he just stares your way, his nose flared still utterly furious, at you, your betrayal, at Laura, at this situation he’s not emotionally equipped to deal with. This Logan’s shoulders are squared like he’s preparing to go a few rounds with you and not in a sexy way. 

It's not a situation you’re entirely sure you’ve been in before; you’ve never been his enemy.  So you’re not sure how to approach this cornered animal, ready to swipe out at you in his fear. 

“If I didn’t go to that school, I never would’ve met any of you. I would be back in Y/H/T (your hometown) and I’d be lesser for it.” 

It utterly disarms him, he’d clearly been prepared for harsh words to combat his own.

Pacing like a tiger locked in a cage, he finally sighs rubbing his forehead irritability. Logan turns, grabbing his leather jacket making the doorframe shake as he slams it after himself. 

“I think he’s secretly happy for you, Laura.” Wade’s voice is light and full of sarcasm.

“That went just about as well as to be expected.” Al huffs from her position at her side as she takes Laura’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. He’ll come round to the idea.”

“Yes, he fucking will.” Seeing your daughter's face crumble as he storms off like a child is apparently your breaking point.

You follow after him, though as you’re a grown adult in charge of her emotions you simply allow the door to close behind you.

“Haha! - She’s gonna beat the shit outta’ him! Its gonna’ be like 454 when she-” You hear Wade cackle as you take off.

It doesn’t take long to find him, you know the man better than you know yourself, though it does certainly help that he’s predictable as shit.

The closest bar to the apartment is where he’s pulled up a stool, his nose flares the second he smells you.

“I mean it this time, I’m not looking for damn company.”

You ignore him, just as you did the time before. 

“Two Corona’s please.”

“I don’t drink that shit.” he huffs. “Corona and a Blue Ribbon.”

It shouldn’t hit you the way it does. 

Just like before, this miniscule insignificant difference, it utterly devastates you.  

A simple fact; his favourite beer. The drink he ordered at every bar he entered without fail - is suddenly, without warning, repulsive to him. 

It just serves to remind you that the man slouched on the bar stool beside you is a complete stranger wearing the face of your dead lover.

Perhaps your Logan drank it simply because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? 

Had he hated it all along? 

Did he only drink it because you did? 

Maybe the beer is a pertinent metaphor for your entire life.

He only drank the beer because it was there, just like he only fell for you because there was no one better around. 

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, you’re only bought out of your spiral by a bottle being placed down in front of you.

Shaking your head, you will yourself to calm down. After a few centering breaths, Logan is looking your way. 

“Thought you were comin’ to give me a talkin’ to.”

It's funny, in a way, your spiral actually has calmed you, reminded you that this isn’t your Logan. 

He’s a different man with his own set of wounds, trying to navigate this awful situation just like you are. 

“I was going to. You were a dick to her back there.” You sigh, taking a sip of your beer. “Then I remembered everything… everything you’ve lost and I thought maybe I could just cut you some slack this time.”

“That's generous.” He shakes his head, sipping his own beer. “This whole things a fuckin’ mess.”

You can’t help but agree with a nod. 

The two of you sit in silence, which would appear to be the norm these days, you have so much to say to one another, yet you can’t seem to find the words. 

Speaking to him, finding out more of the things that are different about him, terrifies you.

Little do you know, Logan is fighting a similar battle.

He hates the weight of your gaze, how it seems to hold the expectation of the great man you’d lost with every glance, it's a constant reminder how short he falls of the anchor being this world lost. 

“Where am I in your world?” You ask the question you’ve had on your mind since meeting him. He knows almost everything about you, and yet you know so little.

“Dead.” He sighs rubbing at his eyes. “With the rest of them.”

“Did we ever?” He looks your way sharply at this question, then gives a harsh shake of his head. 

It hurts a little to know you were always in the background for him - it's difficult to think of a world where you always loved him from afar, never getting to feel his skin on yours. 

“I mean - you’d have had to pay attention to someone other than her for that to happen, I guess.”

“How the fuck’-” He growls voice filled with a new emotion, one you’re not quite familiar with. Bemusement? Disbelief?  “-has this turned into me being the bad guy for not noticing you?” 

“Eh - you were a real asshole upstairs.” Smirking, you take another sip of your drink. “Question for a question? - Take it in turns?”

“I don’t wanna’ know anythin’ about your world.” He snaps, turning his head back, though you can see him watching you in the mirror beside the booze. 

It's like a countdown, you watch him battle his volatile emotions. 

5, 4, 3 , 2, 1.

“Fine.” He grunts into his beer bottle. “How’d they die?”

That throws you, you’d expected how’d we meet? What happened to Charles? Instead he hits you with that straight out the gate.

“Uh - Charles had started showing signs of a degenerative brain disease. I mean,  he was old, prone to seizures. We were desperate to find a way to control them. We were blind… to the reality of the situation.” You take a sip, resting your forehead on your hand as your eyes ache and threaten to water, this was the first time you’d ever discussed this out loud.. “Then, he had a fucking grand mal … it … it wiped out everyone within a 100,000 foot radius.” 

Unable to help it, you pick at the skin around your thumb. “It was… devastating. He killed them all. All the kids in their classrooms, our friends and family. Not even Jean could stop him.”

“He… he killed Jean?”

You're a little ashamed of the flare of jealousy at his devastation about the woman you’d always come second to. But you push that deep down, it's not the time nor place.

“How’d you survive?” He questions. 

“I was away. I’d heard of a neurosurgeon in Germany, he was developing… Well, it doesn’t matter now. But I was away, whilst everyone I cared about died.” 

You’d never had a need to speak of it, Logan had lived it alongside you - there was something cathartic about saying it all out loud. You wipe at your cheek as you gulp down the last of your drink, a heavy stone weighing your stomach now. 

“Your turn.” Logan’s voice is deep in thought as gestures to the bartender for another. He’s extending an olive branch, a kindness in the face of your vulnerability. 

You think about it for a moment, what you’d like to know. 

“We were friends at least?”

“Oh yeah, we were the best of friends, Bub. You were… uh … a lil’ younger back there, never really looked at you that way.” He scratches at his bearded chin, he’s avoiding looking your way again, uncomfortable sharing these parts of himself. “You… uh… you were gonna have pups with Pete.”

“With Maximoff?!” You squeak disbelieving, whilst taking a sip of your beer prompting a coughing fit to end them all, as you gasp for air. 

Logan sighs, slamming his open palm between your shoulder blades. He rubs the spot he just hit in a circle pattern, reminding you somewhat of the last time he drew circles.

“I had a baby with Peter?” You push your hair back from your face. “...That's why he used to stare at me … y’know there was one time…” 

You smile fondly recounting a time you caught him staring creepily across your classroom before you remember that sweet silver haired kid in your memories is dead. The smile drops from your face in an instant; you didn’t have children with him because he’s six feet under. 

“No. You were pregnant when….” He grunts, his voice has a raw edge to it. For two people constantly at odds, your souls were in the same state of flux, continually aching for vastly different reasons, yet at the root, the same cause. 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment or two, you’re processing the fact that you almost had kids with Quicksilver and he’s no doubt regretting ever playing this game.

The game. 

“It's your turn.”

“This is why she shouldn’t join them, everyone we know is dead.” Logan has had enough of the game as he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Being a goddamn hero gets you killed.”

“Logan.” You touch the back of the hand currently gripping the beer bottle neck like it owes him money. “She’s strong, stronger than me. Laura is you in every way that counts. She’s ridiculously stubborn, headstrong - even when she’s wrong - and she has a kind heart. She wants to use those gifts you’ve given her for good. How can you stand in the way of that?” 

Logan’s hand flips over, his warm callused fingers coming to link around your own. 

“The kind heart is all you, bub.” 

The beers have loosened your tongue, made your anxieties seem a little further away.

“I don’t know. You have your moments.” His fingers dance along your palm, stroking the broken planes.

The two of you enjoy this easy intimacy you’d been forming over the past few days. 

“How’d we get together?” Those instruments of death you’ve seen take countless lives, glide over the soft skin of your wrist. Your eyes, usually so afraid to meet his, can’t leave their hazel captivity as you process his blunt question

“Oh, uh…” Tucking your hair behind your ear with your free hand, your eyes dart to his fingers still drifting across your flesh.

“Don’t get shy on me now, bub.” He smirks, though his heart’s not in it. 

That asshole. 

Taking a deep gulp of your third beer, you rely on the liquid courage, before raising your eyes back to his.

“One night. It was a few days after everything, we had finally got a sedative for Charles. We had a moment to take stock of everything we’d lost. You … uh … he came to me and … he cried. The first time I’d seen it.” His hand pulls back, but you can’t help it, you refuse to release your hold. You don’t want to lose this connection. Your thumb dips, rubbing at his knuckle, at the joint where his claws always caused the bone to ache. “I held him and he kissed me, it was messy. It was desperate but I think we both needed to feel something that wasn’t grief.” 

“And I thought I was special… ” His voice holds sarcasm though you can tell the sentiment behind it is anything but humorous.

“You are special to me.”

“Yeah.” His voice is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“You are.”

“I look like the guy who’s special to you, darlin’. I’m not him, as much as you may wish I am. Hell I wish I was.” He has snatched his hand away as he slams cash down on the bar.

Logan has started the short walk back to the apartment, cutting through the alley.

He’s hurt, burying it deep beneath the rage. His anger is an old friend. One he’s comfortable confronting.

“I’m done with your stupid games. I’m done with it all. Haven’t you got the memo? I’m the worst Logan.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that! You’re so goddamn cruel to yourself.” You cry out at his leather covered shoulders, that in itself seems to stop him in his tracks. The Y/N from his world was a mousy wallflower through and through, nothing he’d seen from this world led him to believe you were any different and yet his ears weren’t deceiving him. “I loved my Logan - I fucking adored him. Yes, sometimes it's hard to separate the two of you, but I care for you.”

He stands motionless in the alley as you bare your soul. 

“I’ve known you for a week. I can’t love you the same because you’re not the same person, not entirely, but my soul knows yours. You’re Logan.” You’ve closed the distance but he still wont turn around and perhaps that's what makes it easier to say the things you’ve been desperate to say for days. “I look in your eyes and I feel safe, when you touch me everything feels like it's going to be okay. You’re not the worst, you’re not the best. You’re Logan; you’re just Logan.”

Logan is on you instantly, silencing your words with a scorching kiss. It's the kind you see in movies, desperate, filled to the brim with passion, usually taking place in the rain.

His hands find your lower back, pulling you to him as your wrap your arms around his neck, making sure he can’t escape from your grasp, as he growls and pushes you against the brick wall. 

Your nose aches from the pressure of his cheek pressed against it as he devours your mouth with his own. He is claiming your mouth with a week of pent up emotions. He grips your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist, pressing the hardened bulge of his jeans against your core. 

“Mom? … Logan?” 

There in the street light Laura is illuminated. Her face gives nothing away, she may as well be wearing those sunglasses for all you can garner from her expression. 

“Hey Love! - I.. We…uh-” Logan slowly releases your thigh, slyly adjusting his jeans in an attempt to hide his erection. You do your best to stand in front of the -ahem- sizeable bulge. 

“How's it going?” You ask with a faux air of casualness as you place your hands on your hips, though your voice has a weird edge.

“Pretty good. How’s it going for you?” Her own voice has a coy little smile to it, which puts you at ease just a little. 

“Great, I’m great. Logan? You great?”

“Great.” He grunts behind you. 

“Great! - Everyone’s … great.” 

The three of you stand in silence for a second or two, processing what's just happened or perhaps trying to decide if great is still a real word.

“You’re so weird.” Laura snorts. “For the record I’m happy that you both pulled your heads out of your asses.”

“Baby-”

“Kid-” You and Logan speak in sync. Your eyes lock as you both try and decide how the other was going to finish that sentence.

“Laura - me and your Mom… uh… things are complicated… and we don’t want to drag you into this.” Logan, the man of very few words, has managed to find them. You’re stunned into silence as he takes control of a conversation… about feelings… with his daughter.

This is not any Logan that you know.

Laura looks to you, waiting for your seal of approval on the message.  

“I know how confusing things are already, Bug.” You close the distance between the two of you, linking your fingers with hers.  “Me and your dad, we’re working through some things.”

You notice Logan’s shoulders setting straighter at his new title, like a welcome weight has been placed upon them. She nods at your words, smiling devilishly.

“It was just a matter of time, Mama. He has a staring problem.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t.” He growls from behind you both. Your heart feels lighter than it has in a decade as the two of you cackle at his defensive response.

He digs his hands into his pockets glaring your way, though it has no heat whatsoever behind it, in fact he looks like he’s fighting a smile.

With your hand still firmly in Laura’s you pull her back towards the apartment, linking your arm through Logan’s warm, thick leather clad one. He doesn’t take your hand, but he also doesn’t pull away as the three of you walk back to the house. 

“Can we get pizza? - For emotional trauma?” She questions.

“Baby, I’ll buy you all the pizza in New York.” You reply rolling your eyes.

“Not with fuckin’ pineapple on.” Logan groans.

“Pineapple on pizza is objectively delicious!” Laura defends from her place on your otherside, she pulls on your hand still hanging between the two of you. “Back me up.”

“I will always have your back … but…. pineapple on pizza is in fact a crime against humanity.” 

Logan lets out a guffaw of victory, as Laura snarls his way. You take a mental picture, the warmth in your chest, bracketed in by your two favourite people in the world. Life is good.

Laura leaves the next morning. 

It is a difficult pill to swallow, after seven years by her side. You can’t quite make the leap to take her to the mansion, it's something she understands. So when you embrace her at the doorway after Ellie reassures you for the 30th time she’ll look out for her, you find it hard to let go.

There hasn’t been a day you’ve been without her since you first met the scrawny 12-year old in Mexico. Laura is an extension of you, like your heart is on the outside of your body and you’re not ready for your heart to go to West Chester without you being there to protect it. 

At that moment you understand why she needs this independence, she’s 19 years old. She needs her own life, to experience everything it has to offer but that doesn’t make letting go any easier.

“You call if you need anything, anything at all.” You tell her as you push her hair behind her ears. “Don’t stay up too late but also don’t go to bed too early to make friends but make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“I will get the perfect amount of sleep, don’t worry.” She grabs your wrists, removing your hands from her hair.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You sigh, your anxiety is eating away at your stomach. She’s not the vulnerable child being hunted anymore, you try to remind yourself. “If you need me-”

“-If you need us. We’ll be there.” Logan cuts you off, interjecting his own amendment. 

In a show of affection you’re not quite expecting, he hugs the girl. It's somewhat awkward and clumsy, the two have known each other for a week, but when they pull back, you can see the gesture was all that really mattered.

He hands her her backpack, which she throws one strap over her shoulder. The two smile at each other in their silent language, both such quiet souls. 

When she turns back to you, you ask. “We can walk you down?”

“Stay here? It’s easier this way.” She looks so small as she pleads with you.

Taking mercy on her, you nod. 

“Okay.” Waving you watch her turn for the door. You don’t expect however when she turns back and barrels into your chest for a final time, burying her face in your neck.

“I love you, Mama.” She whispers, you can’t help it as your eyes water. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly to your chest. 

“I love you. You are my world.” You know she needs you to let her go for her to be able to walk through that door. So with a deep inhale of her hair for the road, you pull back gathering your strength. You pull her other strap onto her shoulder and push her hair back from her face. You wipe her tears from her cheeks and give her the biggest smile you can muster, despite your teary eyes and broken voice. “Give them hell, baby.”

Laura nods, giving her own matching teary smile. Her back straightens and her shoulders square as she follows Yukio and Ellie down the hall. The duo waving at you as they descend down the stairs.

You’re so busy watching your world disappear down the hall you barely feel the heavy warm hand wrap around your shoulder in comfort. You melt into Logan’s side as your heart shatters.

You wait for him to leave in a hurry, only he does the last thing you expect of the Wolverine. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You close your eyes as the tears begin to fall against your will. 

Logan strokes your back. He doesn’t offer any words of comfort, but he doesn’t need to, his presence alone is enough.

His trimmed beard, bristles against your hair as he places a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair as he holds you. 

It's hard to say how long the two of you stand there like that. Only when your body stops shaking do you finally look up through tear streamed eyes.  Logan looks down at you, his face is lined with concern. 

“You good?”

“I will be.” Your voice is broken from crying. “I-”

“I know, Bub.” He smiles your way, one you’ve not seen, perhaps ever.

It's soft, sympathetic but filled with adoration. He pushes the strand of hair, now sodden with tears, back behind your ear. His finger lingers on the curve of the bone for a moment or two before he pulls back. 

“Bar?”

“Bar.”

Things change when Laura leaves. Not massively, and not entirely for the worst.

You and Logan had started sharing the bed, not like that (unfortunately), but sleeping next to one another. It was comfier than the sofa and his body curled around yours made you sleep a hell of a lot more soundly. Suddenly years of insomnia were cured by his muscled warmth curled around you like a safety blanket.

He never made a move to further it, even if you had once or twice tried to entice him by grinding your backside against his morning wood. The man was nothing if not resilient as he rolled away, grunting.

The two of you had been getting to know one another, you had resolved to treat him like a whole new man. This revelation meant that their differences weren’t such a blow anymore, you didn’t actively compare the two of them as much.

You had created a clear picket line in your head and it seemed to be working. They were two different versions of the same man, each with their own merits and disadvantages. 

They weren’t to be compared.

The two of you had started a ritual of movie nights, evenings where you’d sit a little too close on the couch and pretend it wasn’t happening. He’d share a blanket he knew he didn’t need just to get close to you. It was a little uncomfortable when Wade asked to come under the blanket but you enjoyed the time spent with the clown,  

In fact, your favourite night had been when you, Wade and Al had all sat down to watch the Notebook - the movie Logan point blank refused watch.

Yes, the movie he objected to so strongly, then proceeded to watch from behind the couch, standing awkwardly on the threshold of the lounge. Where he lingered for the first half an hour pretending to have no interest in it. 

When the end credits came around he was back under the blanket with you and Wade, utterly refusing to admit that he’d cried. 

That argument with Wade had gotten heated and he’d put three little tears in your blanket, but it was one of your fondest memories in this apartment. 

It had been three weeks now. Only two of them had been spent hunting for a room that you could afford on a barista’s salary, which was the only job you were qualified for after dropping off the planet for the past ten years.

Colossus had offered you your old teaching position though you didn’t want to cramp Laura’s style and you didn’t think you could face stepping foot back in that mansion, too many of your ghosts lingered there. The same could be said for Logan, though he had found much better paying work at St Margarets.

He and Wade did odd jobs, merc work to pay the rent. They killed bad guys and got paid for it, and boy they got paid a hell of a lot more than you.

The coffee shop below Wade’s apartment, or waking hell, as you’d come to know it was your slice of a regular life; trying to push your circle peg into a triangle hole.

Its a 24-hour coffee shop, cause who doesn’t need caffeine at 3am? Tch. New York. You’re leaning on the counter a million miles away, contemplating if the graveyard shifts are worth the illusion of paying your way when Logan makes up most of your share of the rent anyway.

Your singular customer is a young guy typing away on his laptop, desperately trying to finish what looks like a college essay. He’s eleven espressos in and has been here since before your shift started at 5pm. You haven’t been told if you can cut someone off, but surely that much caffeine must count as overserving. 

The bell above the door tingles loudly, the warm lights illuminate his red mask. 

Wade.

“Hey angel baby!” He comes to the counter, pretending to read the board as if he hasn’t been here a million times before.

“Hi Wade.” You smile tiredly at the man. “What’cha want? It's on the house!”

“Ooooh, gimme’ a Caramel Macchiato but hit me with like 6 shots espresso, extra caramel and don’t skimp on the whipped cream - I like to call this the don't stop til dawn.”

“Your insides must be a mess.” You shake your head and get to making his drink. 

“How’s the soul crushing service industry treating ya?” He asks, leaning one hand on the counter.

“It’s okay. A little boring, but not so bad, nobody's shooting at me.” You motion downwards with your eyes to the fresh bullet holes in his red suit.

“Ha! Yeahhh. But it's good old fashioned fun, beating guys to a pulp, saving kids from trees, taking candy from cats.” You roll your eyes at the man. “But they say, if you love your job you never work a day in your life! And boy, I love my job.”

You're steaming the milk when he speaks up again, shouting loudly over the machine. “You should come and work with me and Logi Bear. He’s 10% less of an old grumpy fuck when you’re around.”

He’s still shouting when the machine quietens, making your cringe a little as the kid looks your way. This isn’t the first time Wade’s broached the subject with you.

“I get you wanna move out, we love having you, but I get that Al’s old lady smell can get sorta’ overwhelming after a while.”

“Wade.” You sigh, admonishing his jokes about the lady who you’ve grown to care for in the past month. “If you didn’t live in a two bed, I’d love to stay, but it's just too small and I want you to have your bedroom back. I hate feeling like a burden.”

You secure the lid to his drink when its finally complete. “One heart attack in a cup.” 

“My favourite.” His mask contorts around the eyes showing his smile. “Oh Wolvie’s upstairs in bad shape. Something took a fuckin’ chunk outta him.”

“What the fuck Wade?! Why didn’t you lead with that?” You’re pulling off your apron and halfway around the counter before you remember your shift isn’t over for another hour.  

“Cause’ then you wouldn’t have made my fast juice.”

Ah fuck it.

“Don’t steal the cash register.” You warn the kid looking your way. “He’ll hunt you down and beat the crap out of you.”

Wade waves at the kid behind you, he has his macchiato in one hand and baby knife in his other for special effect. The kid gives a look of ‘Jeez’ before returning to his work.

“You coming?” You ask when your almost half way through the door.

“Nah - saving innocents makes me hungy. Fork hands has his healing factor. He'll be fine.” Wade replies dismissively.

Huffing you turn on your heel and practically run to the apartment. 

A chunk out of him? 

Logan's healing factor was significantly better without the adamantium poisoning but surely he could die. In an instant you’re back in North Dakota, holding his hand as he fades away. 

Your breath is heavy as you take the steps two at a time. 

Not again. 

The door is thrown open and instead of chaos you find the lights dimmed, candles all over the apartment and there Logan stands in a new plaid buttondown and his finest wranglers. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers in those veined hands you love so much. It's like something out of a Danielle Steel novel and you utterly melt.

The panic that had clutched your heart recedes. Your anxiety releases its grip on you. 

“You’re not hurt?” 

“No, bub. I’m fine. Sorry for the clown. He offered to help and I…”

You shake your head and smile at him, hesitantly you take a step forward. When you’re close enough he hands them your way. “I have it on good authority, they’re your favourites.”

“They are.”

“I wanna give you what you deserve, sweetheart.” He starts, it's like he’s rehearsed it in his head. Little do you know it's all his thought about for the past three weeks. “You deserve more than a romp in the woods, or an alley.” 

He seems to cringe at this before continuing.

“I’m not like the other guy. He was a goddamn anchor being, hero through and through from what I hear about him. I’m angry, I kill people and I drink too goddamn much, but when you look at me, I feel like I could be him.” For the first time, it is him that takes your hand in his much larger one. “Do you know how jealous of that asshole I am, Bub? That he got you first? That he got to have your uncomplicated love. If you’d been older in my timeline, I would've’ met you first, I wouldn’t have looked twice at another and I’d have fallen for you the second you looked up at me from beneath those eyelashes, how could I not when everything about you is so easy to love?” 

You’ve always been a crier, and this is no different. The man is stamping down every single one of your insecurities, reassuring you as you go. Making you feel more loved then you’ve ever felt before.

“I adore you. From your crappy cooking-”

“-Hey.”

“Your porny books you think I don’t see, to the way you cry at movies, how much you love our daughter. I fuckin’ love you Y/N. Its messy and complicated, I’m not sure if you could-”

In a total role reversal it is you who cuts him off, grabbing his face in your palms and dragging his face down to yours. Your mouths join for the first time in weeks, it is hot and full of desire and love. It's like the two of you are releasing all of your tension into this kiss, finally the air has been cleared and it's rejuvenating. 

You press your forehead to his, gasping for breath as his kisses steal the air from your lungs.

“Lo, I guarantee every version of me loves you, even if you were too blind to see it in your world.” 

“You were a married woman in my world, bub.”

You gasp theatrically. “Adulturerer.”

“You’ve spent too much time with that fuckin’ idiot.” He kisses your lips, though you don’t let it turn into anything deeper, as you pull back rubbing your nose against his. 

“Fornicator.” 

“tch… stop.” He groans, grabbing your ass pulling you into his bulge, you bite his lip with a giggle. “Why do you have these lined up?”

He never gets his answer as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his back and carries you through to the bedroom. You pull away from his mouth, looking over to the set dinner table.

“The food… you went to all that effort!” He is kissing your neck, nipping and lathering the bites with his tongue. 

“Can’t cook for shit, darlin’. It’s take out, we can heat it up. I’m hungry for your fuckin’ sweet cunt right now. “

Your lower stomach clenches at his positively filthy words, you join your lips back to his. His teeth nip at your lip as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, running the tip along your teeth. 

Before there had been need, but now, you’re both desperate. You’ve had a mere taste of what the other has to offer and now you’ve starved yourself for months. 

“Not gonna’ last long on the first, darlin’.” He groans into your mouth as your hand works its way into his pants. He is eager as he throws you back onto the bed and is already working at peeling your black jeans down your legs. “Those fuckin’ shorts you sleep in, fuck. I’ve been dreamin’ about buryin’ myself in ya’ for weeks.”

“Please, Lo.” You’re not sure what you’re already begging for but you are desperate. You’re left in your uniform tee and panties, as he slowly unbuttons his button down, slowly revealing the white undershirt beneath. You’ve never found collarbones particularly attractive, but the tanned skin stretched across his is quite frankly delectable. 

You pull your shirt over your head, all too eager to be rid of the reminder of the job you should by all rights be at right now. Your bra is quick to follow.

“Those gorgeous tits, been thinking of these every fucking night.” You groan at his admission. He himself is shirtless, you have half a mind to return the same complement as your hands brush against his perfectly sculpted pecs. 

This man was the perfect specimen, it was unfair, t shirts should be outlawed for him. He grabs the waistband of your panties. 

‘Snikt’ and a rip sound and you are utterly bare before him, laying across Wade’s bed. 

Those gorgeous strong hands trace the planes of your body, circling your nipples before his mouth takes their place. 

He groans as his hands descend to your core. “All this for me? I’m gonna’ fuckin’ slide in, Baby.” 

And he does, two fingers push through your tight slick opening, three weeks of foreplay have left you soaking wet and wanting. How can you live with a man who looks the way he does, who consistently works out in the living room shirtless and not have the ocean in your panties. 

It seems Logan has had all he can take as he slides a third finger in, pumping it in and out of you, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. Gasping you grab at your sheets desperate to anchor yourself. 

He kisses up your breast, lavishing your chest in kisses and bites. Never enough to leave a mark but just enough to excite you. 

When he’s at your neck he leans in, whispering into your ear. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin that pussy.”

You can’t help it, maybe you’re a whore for this man, but you don’t fucking care. Your legs part even further on the bed.

“Please, Logan. I need you to fuck me.”

He grins savagely, pushing his already undone belt and jeans down his hips. He’s back up and claiming your mouth, your legs wrapped around his ass, pulling you down to him before he knows it. 

One hand is bearing his weight as the other disappears, he lines himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock breaching your folds. He’s thick, thicker than you remember, but there isn’t any discomfort this time. He settles for a moment, his forehead against yours. His mouth dips to join your lips, his tongue lashing out and fucking your mouth as his hips leap forward spearing you on his cock. The bed creaks with the power of his hips as he fucks you hard into the matress. 

Skin slapping on skin is all that can be heard as he readjusts onto his knees, he’s desperate to be as deep as possible and you need the same thing. 

“Lo-”

“I know, darlin’.” He grabs your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all and flips you over. Suddenly you’re astride him, your knees either side of his hips as his head rests in the pillows. 

His eyes are distracted by your tits as he smirks, happy with the view. 

You ache for him, so you reach down, lining his thick purple headed member with your core before you sink down in one stroke, his extended groan absolutely wrecks you as his big hands come to rest on the meat of your hips. 

You rest your hands on his amply hair covered chest, using his pecs as leverage before you raise your hips before slamming back down and bottoming him out. 

He’s so deep inside you, the tip of him must be brushing your goddamn cervix as you raise yourself once more, until he almost slips out before meeting his hips once more. 

Logan’s strength never fails to surprise you as his hands follow your lead yet help lift you through the manoeuvre. 

You’re bouncing on his cock, quick rise and fall sporadically grinding your clit deliciously into his pelvis. 

Logan feels fucking amazing inside of you, maybe its been the buildup of weeks but you find yourself heading towards the dive faster than ever before. 

“Ride my cock,sweetheart. That’s it, make yourself feel good.”

Gasping at his words and the change of position as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you and claiming your mouth. The second you find the angle that feels amazing against your clit, you hit it again and again, grinding hard against him.

“Lo - I’m gonna … I’m gonna -” You crash before you can get the words out, your toes curl by his knees and your whole body seizes in ecstasy. The world feels right as the stars appear behind your eyes.

The world stopped for you for a moment but not for Logan. He has bought his knees up and is pistoning his hips into your contorting body. He’s holding you against him, groaning into your neck as he continues to fuck your clenching pussy relentlessly.

“Oh fuck … your so fucking tight. Fucking perfect cunt- made - for - me.” He growls into your neck, but you’re too cock drunk to hear it properly, as he frantically thrusts his powerful hips up and into you. 

“Where? ” He pulls back, never slowing his hips as he grabs your cheeks with one hand. Your sweat laden face, vacant and looking back at him, your cunt hasn’t stopped clenching around him as he plunders your depths, his voice is strained as he asks again  “Darlin’...you gotta … tell me … where?”

“...inside, Lo. Please come inside me…” Your so overstimulated, you could cry.  The sound of his balls slapping against skin as he thrusts upwards deep inside of you, whilst he pulls your body down. He’s so fucking deep inside of you, your pussy squelching from a mixture of precum and your arousal.

With another string of lewd words he’s coming hard, Logan’s head has fallen back against the headboard exposing the thick chords of muscle, you can't help sinking your teeth into it, you dip your hand and rub at your clit clumsily, you’re so fucking overstimulated from watching him you follow him over the precipice once more, giving him an insanely tight sheath to come in. 

“That’s it, take it all, sweetheart” He groans as he continues to slowly pump his seed deep within you

Gasping you fall slack in his arms, your bones are jelly and your muscles ache, you really are a pillow princess. 

“Still with me?” You manage to nod your clammy forehead against his pec, you currently have your cheek squished against. He chuckles, as he lies back against the pillows, leaving his cock still inside of you, you can feel him leaking out of you as he softens a little, recovering for what you imagine will be another enthusiastic round if history is a teacher. 

You are utterly fucked out as you lie on his chest, listening to his breath with his cum slowly leaking from your abused hole. 

The two of you have never needed words, you lie against his chest, the hands you adore so much, come out to stroke your hair.

Rubbing soothingly at your scalp before running his calloused fingers through the locks and repeating. 

When you’ve finally gathered enough strength you lean on your hands, looking up at him.

“Welcome back, bub.”

“Hello.” You smile shyly, like you hadn’t just sunk your canines into his neck whilst wantonly riding his cock to oblivion. 

“You okay?” He asks, his hand rising to stroke your swollen bottom lip.

“Someone fucked me brain dead - but yeah, I’m good.” You smirk, nipping at his thumb.

He grins wolfishly and chuckles with his whole body, the movement causes his cock to move inside of you. Slowly you feel him hardening once more.

“You can still talk, Darlin’. Means I haven’t done my job properly.” The predatory gaze in his eyes excites and scares you in equal parts. Though you’re probably asking for trouble when you take his thumb back in your mouth. 

It's light outside when you finally have to tap out. 

Your pussy is aching, your ass is stinging from the new sensation, your jaw throbs and your entire body is boneless. 

You can’t quite catch your breath and your cunt is leaking so much cum, that you’re probably 10% Logan at this point. 

The Wolverine has utterly devoured you, making up for three weeks of torment in one night. Though he’s not all bad as he feeds you noodles from chopsticks as you lay on his muscled hair laden thighs. 

When Logan had suggested food, you’d had to stop him from eating Wontons from your belly button as none of your holes were currently operational. 

The two of you have dressed, though that is a strong use of the word as you’re wearing only his button down and him only his underwear. 

You’re lazing on the couch watching reruns of Friends as your bed sorely needs fresh sheets and a new base. Poor Wade, you’d have to replace it before you move out. Like he could read your mind, Logan begins. 

“I found a new place, its nothing fancy but its got four walls and no roommates.” You smile at him around your mouthful of noodles as he takes his own bite.

Sitting up you smile. “That’s great news, Lo.”

“I uh- wanted to see, if you’d wanna come with me.”

You can’t help your grin. 

fin.

I am currently posting this at the airport before my flight. I love you all! 💖

[moonselune]

I love the concept that plays with how blank a slate Tav is and what that could mean. Like think of a high charisma (bard) Tav who goes through the entire plot carefully conceiling their own struggles and traumas so to not loose focus on helping everyone else first.

A Tav who, till the late game, carefully side stepped ever sharing a shred of their sad life with the group so not to risk loosing respect as leader. Until their romanced companion’s own quest is finished and the companion suddenly realized they don’t know A Thing about the love of their life.

Que intervention as they insist Tav lean on them as well.

Oooooo this is such a cool concept!!! I wrote little snippets of it with the ladies because I just needed to see it in action ahaha, and also i wasn't sure if this was a request or a sharing thoughts situation, but either way thank you!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach’s laughter usually lit up the camp like a second sun, warm and untamed. But tonight, as she sat next to you, her smile was hesitant, her brow furrowed in thought. The fire crackled between you, casting flickering light over her troubled face. Her quest was over—the engine in her chest hummed quietly, no longer a constant threat, and for the first time in years, she could dream of a future.

With you.

And yet, now that the battlefields were behind you and her own burdens were lifted, Karlach realized something startling: she didn’t know you.

She knew your jokes, your way of rallying the group when morale dipped, your quick wit and even quicker blade. But you’d always deflected questions about yourself, about your past, in such a charming way that no one ever pressed.

Until now.

“You’re quiet tonight, soldier,” Karlach said softly, nudging your shoulder with hers. Her voice was light, teasing, but her gaze held a deeper intensity.

“I thought you’d enjoy a bit of peace,” you replied, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

She tilted her head, studying you. “Peace? Sure. But not silence. C’mon, you’ve got me curious.”

“Curious?”

Karlach nodded, leaning back on her hands. The firelight danced in her eyes. “Yeah. We’ve been through hell together, fought gods and monsters, and you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger. But I just realized... I don’t know anything about you. Who you were. Where you’re from. What keeps you up at night.”

You laughed nervously, brushing off her words with a joke. “What keeps me up? You, snoring like a troll after a good meal.”

But Karlach wasn’t laughing. Her hand reached out, warm and steady, to rest on your arm. “I’m serious. Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?”

For a moment, the mask slipped. Your smile faltered, your shoulders tensed, and you looked away. “Because it’s not important.”

Karlach’s grip tightened, grounding you. “Bullshit.”

The word hit harder than any blade. You glanced back at her, meeting her gaze, and saw nothing but unwavering determination.

“You’ve carried all of us, soldier,” she said, her voice softening. “You’ve been there for me, for everyone, without ever asking for anything in return. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. Not anymore.”

The weight of her words was unbearable. You opened your mouth to deflect again, to joke, to lie—but Karlach was relentless.

“Talk to me,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Let me be there for you, the way you’ve been there for me. Please.”

And so, with her hand warm against your arm and her eyes locked on yours, the dam broke. You told her everything: the choices you’d made, the people you’d lost, the sacrifices that had carved deep scars into your soul. You spoke until your throat was raw, until tears blurred your vision, until the weight you’d carried for so long began to lift.

When you finished, Karlach pulled you into her arms, her infernal heart humming quietly between you.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice fierce with conviction. “Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the gathering. It was one of those rare quiet nights when the group could let their guard down after a day of relentless fighting and tension. You sat slightly apart from the others, leaning on a log with your lute resting against your lap, fingers idly plucking a soft tune. The others laughed and chatted, the mood light for once, a reflection of a recent victory in defeating Orin.

Minthara was a commanding presence at the center of the gathering, her voice cool and measured as she recounted a story of conquest from her youth in the Underdark. You watched her with quiet admiration, a small smile on your face. Her victory had brought her a visible sense of satisfaction, and you were glad to have helped her achieve it. But as the group began to disperse for the night, she approached you, her sharp golden eyes intent.

“You’ve been unusually quiet tonight,” she said, sitting beside you on the log. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a probing edge to it.

You shrugged, still plucking at the lute strings. “Just enjoying the peace. It’s not often we get nights like this.”

Minthara frowned slightly. “You say that as though peace is a luxury you cannot afford.”

You hesitated, the music faltering for a moment before you resumed playing. “We all have things we’re dealing with,” you said lightly, deflecting as you always did.

She narrowed her eyes at you, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “Do we now? I suppose it’s convenient that you always seem to deal with them in private. A leader who asks for nothing of their allies, who gives so much and reveals so little.”

You chuckled softly, trying to play it off. “I’m just a bard. Stories and songs, that’s all I have to offer. It’s better if I focus on everyone else’s happiness. That’s how we keep moving forward, right?”

Her hand shot out, catching your wrist and stilling the lute’s strings. The sudden silence was startling.

“Enough,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “Do not insult me by pretending you have no burdens of your own. I have watched you—carefully, closely—and I see the cracks beneath your mask.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding. Minthara had always been astute, but you hadn’t expected her to press the issue like this.

“I… it’s not important,” you murmured, avoiding her gaze. “Not compared to what everyone else has been through.”

Her fingers tightened around your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make her point. “Do you think so little of me that you believe I cannot handle your truth? Or do you think so little of yourself that you cannot share it?”

Her words hit harder than you cared to admit. For so long, you had poured your energy into being the strong, charismatic leader your companions needed, smoothing over conflicts, supporting their struggles, and offering unwavering encouragement. But you’d never let them see the darker parts of yourself.

Minthara’s gaze softened, her hand loosening on your wrist but not letting go. “You have been my rock through my darkest moments, my most trying battles. Yet I realize now I know nothing of what lies beneath the surface of the one I call my heart. Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you more than anyone. But I—” You paused, struggling to find the words. “If I start talking about it, it’ll feel real. And I’ve worked so hard to keep it buried. To keep it from interfering with everything we’re trying to do.”

Her expression was unreadable for a moment, but then she moved closer, her presence warm and grounding.

“You are not alone anymore. Whatever demons haunt you, they will not diminish you in my eyes. If anything, they make you stronger for having faced them.” She paused, her voice softening. “But strength is not refusing to lean on others. Strength is allowing those who care for you to share the weight.”

Her words broke something open inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. Slowly, you set the lute aside and took a deep breath. For the first time, you began to speak—not with a practiced deflection or a half-truth, but honestly. You told her about the losses that had shaped you, the scars you carried, and the fear that if you let others see your pain, they would lose faith in you as a leader.

Minthara listened intently, her hand never leaving yours. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to offer platitudes or solutions. When you finished, she reached up to touch your cheek, her fingers brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“You are more than I ever imagined,” she said softly, her voice full of conviction. “And I am honored to carry your pain with you.”

Her words were a balm, and as you leaned into her touch, you felt a strange sense of relief. For the first time in a long while, you weren’t carrying the weight alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel was never one for subtlety. It wasn’t her way, and it wasn’t what drew her to you. What drew her to you was your strength, your decisiveness, your ability to unite a group of misfits and drive them toward a common goal. In you, she saw a leader worth following—and eventually, someone worth loving.

But as you sat by the campfire one evening, spinning a tale that had the others laughing and cheering, Lae’zel watched you with narrowed eyes. She noticed the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your voice faltered when someone asked about your own past, and how deftly you redirected the conversation back to them. You had thought she would have been too wrapped up in her own victory that day, that she was finally free of Vlaakith's lies, a new champion found in Prince Orpheus. But you were wrong.

It wasn’t until the camp was quiet, with only the two of you lingering by the dying embers, that she decided to confront you.

“You wear your mask well,” she said bluntly, sitting across from you.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Mask? I wasn’t wearing one during the performance.”

Lae’zel huffed, her sharp yellow eyes locking onto yours. “You know what I mean. You speak of others’ pain as though it were your own. You rally us with words that stir the soul. But when it comes to you...” She leaned forward, her voice low and accusing. “I know nothing of the one I call ‘commander'. The one I love.”

You hesitated, your usual arsenal of witty retorts suddenly failing you. “Lae’zel, I—”

“Do not lie to me,” she cut you off, her voice firm but not unkind. “I see it in your eyes, in the way you deflect. You think yourself clever, but I know what it is to hide weakness.”

Her words struck a chord, and for a moment, you considered brushing her off. But the intensity in her gaze—equal parts frustration and concern—kept you rooted in place.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, your voice quieter than usual. “What I’ve been through... it’s not important. The group—you—come first. Always.”

Lae’zel’s expression softened, though her resolve didn’t waver. She stood and moved to sit beside you, her hand reaching out to grasp yours. “Do not belittle me by suggesting that your struggles are insignificant. You are not some faceless pawn on a battlefield. You are my partner. My heart beats for you.”

Her words undid you. The walls you’d so carefully constructed began to crumble as she continued, her voice gentler now.

“You have carried the burdens of us all. It is time you shared your own.”

The floodgates opened. Slowly at first, then all at once, you began to speak—of the losses you’d endured, the sacrifices you’d made, and the fear that admitting any of it would shatter the respect the group had for you. Lae’zel listened without interruption, her grip on your hand unwavering. When you were done, she pulled you into her arms, her strength a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

“You are stronger than you know,” she said softly, her voice near your ear. “And you are not alone. Not anymore.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe her. To trust someone else. To share the pain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart was patient, but only to a point. She’d fallen for you—not the bard’s mask you wore so expertly, but the glimpses of vulnerability you let slip when you thought no one was watching. Yet those moments were fleeting, and every time she tried to delve deeper, you sidestepped her with the same charming ease you used on everyone else.

It wasn’t until her personal quest had come to a bittersweet end—when she finally felt free from the shackles of Shar’s influence—that she realized the gaping hole in her knowledge of you.

You sat by the edge of the camp, tuning your lute under the pale light of the moon. Shadowheart approached quietly, her steps soft on the grass. She didn’t speak until she was sitting beside you, her gaze fixed on the instrument in your hands.

“You’re always playing for others,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “Have you ever written a song for yourself?”

You chuckled, though there was a hint of unease in the sound. “I prefer to leave the self-indulgent ballads to others.”

Shadowheart turned to you, her expression serious. “Why?”

You hesitated, your fingers stilling on the strings. “Because it’s not about me. It’s about... helping. Inspiring. That’s what matters.”

Shadowheart sighed, her frustration evident. “You’re deflecting again.”

Your shoulders tensed, and you looked away, your usual charm faltering under her unwavering gaze.

“I’m fine, Shadowheart,” you said, though the words rang hollow even to your ears. “Really. There’s nothing to—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “I’ve spent my life serving a goddess who demanded I suppress everything I was. I know what it looks like when someone is hiding their pain. And I know how much it hurts to carry it alone.”

Her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“It’s easier this way,” you admitted quietly. “If I focus on everyone else, if I don’t talk about it... then it’s like it doesn’t exist. Like it doesn’t matter.”

Shadowheart reached out, her hand gently brushing against yours. “But it does matter. You matter.”

You glanced at her, the sincerity in her eyes threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you’d built around yourself.

“What if... What if I tell you, and you see me differently?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Shadowheart’s expression softened, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I already see you, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve given so much of yourself to this group—to me. Let me give something back.”

Her words were the final push you needed. Slowly, haltingly, you began to speak—about the traumas you’d buried, the fear of letting anyone see the cracks in your facade, and the constant pressure to be everything to everyone.

Shadowheart listened intently, her hand never leaving yours. When you finished, she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you in a tender embrace.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone,” she murmured. “Not anymore. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into her comfort, the weight of your secrets finally beginning to lift.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The campfire burned low, crackling faintly in the still night air. You sat alone at the edge of camp, your lute balanced across your lap, fingers idly plucking a soft melody. It was your usual way of winding down after a long day, the gentle music serving as a balm not just for yourself but for your companions. Tonight, though, your mind was elsewhere, the notes faltering now and then as memories you worked so hard to suppress bubbled unbidden to the surface.

Across camp, Jaheira watched you with a quiet intensity. She had spent decades in the company of adventurers, soldiers, and leaders, and she recognized the signs of a burden carried in silence. Even if the freshly recruited Minsc was determined to fill that silence with his usual babbles. You, the charismatic bard, the glue that held this strange, volatile group together, had always been an enigma. You soothed tensions, inspired courage, and tended to the wounds of body and soul without ever revealing anything of yourself.

It hadn’t bothered her before—not in the heat of the crisis, when every moment was a battle for survival. But now, Jaheira found herself uneasy. The realization struck her that despite all her time at your side, she knew little of the person she had grown to love. And it gnawed at her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

She rose from her seat, approaching you with her usual confidence, though her expression softened as she drew nearer.

“You’ll wear your strings thin at this rate,” she teased gently, nodding toward your lute.

You glanced up, offering her your practiced, easy smile. “Ah, but music soothes even the most restless soul. Should I not share it?”

Jaheira’s lips quirked upward in a small smile, but her gaze was piercing. “Perhaps. But who soothes you, bard?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, your fingers stilling on the strings.

“I—” You laughed lightly, deflecting. “I’m fine, Jaheira. Don’t worry about me.”

She crossed her arms, her emerald eyes narrowing. “You’ve said that every time someone’s asked. And yet, I can’t help but notice that ‘fine’ is all you ever claim to be. Do you expect me to believe that a life as tangled as yours comes without scars?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off, sitting down beside you and placing a firm hand on your arm. “Enough. You’ve carried the weight of everyone else’s troubles, including mine. You’ve fought for us, bled for us, and offered comfort whenever we’ve needed it. But not once—not once—have you shared even a fragment of your own story. Why is that?”

The weight of her words settled over you like a shroud, and for a moment, you couldn’t meet her gaze. “I… I didn’t want to distract anyone,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than usual. “There was so much to do, so much at stake. If I started talking about my own problems, it would have… I don’t know, shifted things. Made me seem weaker. Less of a leader.”

Jaheira’s hand tightened on your arm. “Weakness? Do you think I’d see you as weak because you’re human? Because you have wounds that haven’t healed?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s not that simple. I had to keep everyone together. If I faltered—if I let anyone see how badly I was struggling—what would’ve happened to us? To you?”

She sighed, her thumb brushing absently over your sleeve. “You’ve spent so much time tending to others, you’ve forgotten how to let someone tend to you. But that’s not leadership; that’s martyrdom.”

Her words cut deep, striking at a truth you’d been avoiding for so long. Slowly, you looked up at her, and the concern in her gaze nearly undid you. “Jaheira… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start here,” she said simply, placing her other hand over yours. “Start with me. You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else; now let someone give something back.”

And so you did. Haltingly at first, the words spilling out in a jumbled, unpracticed mess. You told her of the choices you regretted, the people you’d lost, the nights spent lying awake under the stars wondering if you’d ever be enough. She listened without interruption, her hand never leaving yours, her presence steady and grounding.

By the time you finished, your throat was tight and your shoulders felt lighter than they had in years. Jaheira leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from your face, her expression filled with an affection that made your heart ache.

“There,” she said softly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You laughed shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

She smiled, the warmth in her eyes chasing away the last shadows of doubt. “It takes one to know one.”

As she pulled you into a gentle embrace, you realized she was right. For the first time, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else, to let go of the mask you’d worn for so long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[ironstrange1991]

You're The Only Good Thing In My Life

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It's Stephen and Y/n's last night of vacation and she decides to claim him as hers before give him back to the world.

Word Count: 4,2k

Warnings: SMUT: unprotected p n v sex, oral with male and female receiving, creampie and cum eating. There is also a bit of jealousy implied.

A/N: This fic was inspired entirely by the song of the same name by the band Cigarretes After Sex. For total immersion I highly recommend listening to it. It's absurdly romantic, a bit sad (?), but very smuty. Hope you like it and have a nice reading.

There were few things in the world that truly left you in awe. One of them was Stephen, of course. The Eifel Tower, the mountains of the Scottish Highlands and the beach at night.

You could stay all night watching the waves hitting the shore, the foam forming on the sand, the smell of the sea air. Of course, all this was very beautiful in daylight when the sea reflected the blue of the sky and the waters shone like liquid sapphire, but at night the sea was endless and mysterious. The blue turned into black crowned by layers of gray foam.

There was nothing more beautiful than that, unless there was a storm on the way. The night sky clear with storm clouds that brings lightning and the sound of thunder in the distance announcing the arrival of heavy rain. That was without a shadow of a doubt one of the most beautiful things you could imagine and it was also the scene in front of you as you sat on the steps in the backyard of the house that Stephen had rented for you to spend a few days on vacation.

After you fought with him because he wasn't paying attention to you, he surrendered and decided to redeem himself with the indecent proposal of taking you to the beach and obviously you accepted.

It was seven days where you barely left the house. That's when you got out of bed. Stephen made sure the house was stocked with everything you needed and even when you wanted something that wasn't there, he always made sure to get it for you within a minute. Of course, being a sorcerer and traveling through portals helped with the task.

But of course you couldn't complain. You had the man you loved by your side all the time and you didn't need to share him with Wong or those annoying spell books. You could spend the whole day curled up in bed or sprawled on the sofa, you could swim in the sea, make love whenever you wanted and as often as you wanted. There in that house you were sure you had experienced paradise and you never wanted to leave.

Yet there you were sitting on the stairs, your bare feet in the sand, listening to the sound of the waves and watching the storm brewing and the lightning cutting across the sky and your chest was heavy knowing that you would have to leave the next morning and return to the reality of your work, as well as sharing Stephen with all the tasks he needed to do for Wong, for the Avengers and for the world.

For a whole week Stephen was just yours and now you needed to give him back.

Of course he could see you were sad. You had been lively and talkative all week and particularly that night you were sitting there quietly alone. You wanted to shake that feeling away, but it wasn't exactly an easy thing. However, when you heard the sound of footsteps approaching and felt Stephen sitting on the step behind you and pulling you to lean against his chest, you sighed, letting yourself be comforted by the only person capable of comforting you.

You closed your eyes for a second, feeling him kiss the top of your head, but you remained silent.

"A storm is coming." He said in your ear, making a point of rubbing his goatee against the back of your neck and as expected, your entire body tingled and he let out a satisfied hum.

"This always works." He pointed out, running his hands through your hair and holding it in a ponytail and then brushing his chin against your skin again. You shivered at the sensation and let out a small chuckle.

"May I ask what you're thinking?" His voice sounded low.

"That I love the beach at night."

"Hmm."

"And that I don't want to leave."

He held you in his arms and something in that hug made you feel that he shared with you that desire to stay there, just the two of you together, free from all routine worries.

"You know we can come back whenever we want." He promised.

"But you can never take a vacation. There's always something you need to do."

He stroke your hair gently and brought his nose closer breathing in your scent. He continued stroking your hair, but didn't say anything.

"What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" You asked, genuinely curious as you watched the night sea.

"You naked in my bed." He teased making you giggle.

"I'm serious, Stephen."

"What makes you think I'm not?"

You chuckled "Okay. Besides that."

He thought for a minute and then hummed to himself as if remembering something.

"The first time I went to Kamar Taj the Ancient One showed me things I had no idea could exist. I was terrified, but those images never left my mind."

"Were they beautiful?"

"Scary, but very beautiful."

You nodded thinking for a second. "I think this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." You pointed to the sea in front of you. "Like this."

"You mean it's not me?" He teased and you grabbed his hand that was firmly around your waist and brought it to your mouth and gave it a small kiss before leaning your face into his palm closing your eyes and confessing.

"You're the only good thing in my life."

He sighed, cupping your cheek and making you turn to look at him. When you did, his eyes were like fire, darkened by what you couldn't tell if it was desire, love, or a combination of the two.

"I promise I won't let work come between us again. I love you. I've never loved anyone but you and I never will."

"Hmm. That's lovely, but as much as I'd love to believe, you can't promise that, Stephen. You're Doctor Strange, the world needs you all the time."

He shook his head. "I don't care. You're the only one that really matters to me."

You smiled, knowing full well that things were more complicated than that, but you decided to let it that way even if just for the night.

You let yourself be pulled towards his lips, surrendering to his hungry kiss and as if the universe was conspiring with you, a thunder resounded louder than the others and the lights went out plunging you both into the gloom of the night lit only by the constant lightning.

Stephen chuckled on your lips and you felt your entire body tingle at the sound. That was the effect he had on you.

"We should go inside before it starts raining." He suggested nibbling your lip, but you shook your head getting up, hiking up your dress to straddle him, sitting back on his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, kissing him again, much harder this time, while grinding yourself in him.

Stephen wrapped you in his arms, surrendering to the kiss with a hum.

"I want you to take me, Stephen. Make me yours."

He smirked glancing at you. "Here on these stairs? What if someone sees us?"

You hummed while giving small kisses on his neck and making his skin prickle.

"There's no one around and to be honest I don't care at all. I just want to be yours."

You lowered your lips to his bare chest, kissing and nibbling, sucking on the skin to mark him. Inhaling his delicious scent. Between your legs, you could feel him hardening. The delicate fabric of your panties and his shorts were the only thing stopping you.

Stephen lolled his head back, sighing, but his grip tightened on your waist. "Oh sweetheart" He moaned "You always get what you want from me, don't you?" He held your chin making you look at him.

"It must be because you think I'm adorable." You smiled proudly feeling his cock twitching beneath you. You were always surprised by how quickly you could get Stephen into that state.

"You have no idea." His lips searched for yours again and he started to move you harder on his lap. His kiss becoming more and more desperate as his desire increased, making him impatient.

"I need to be inside you." He asked between your lips.

You stood up, reluctant to separate from him for even a second. Stephen pulled down the shorts he was wearing and kicked them to the side. You pulled down your panties and let them fall and pool around your ankles, kicking them next to his shorts and Stephen grabbed your hand pulling you back closer to him.

You straddled him and raised your arms for him to take off your dress. The damp wind of the stormy night made your skin prickle and your nipples harden. Stephen grabbed one of them and twisted the other with his fingers, making you whimper and grab a handful of his hair. Your hips moving back and forth making his cock poke into your folds and giving you both just a glimpse of relief.

When he got tired of playing with your nipples, his lips moved up your collarbone, his beard scratching your skin deliciously. He stopped at a point just below your ear and sucked hard on the skin, marking you and making you let out a little moan. He brought one of his hands between you, finally touching you where you needed him the most. His heavy sigh showing his satisfaction at finding you absurdly wet for him.

You pulled him back to your lips as he entered you with two fingers. He moved them in and out slowly, teasing you and making you moan against his lips, feeling the familiar electricity course through your body as the desire increased.

You whimpered still between his lips and he hummed in response knowing full well what you wanted because it was exactly what he wanted too. He grabbed his cock and gave it a couple of jerks and patted your thigh. You raised your hips enough so he could direct his cock at your entrance, but first he ran the tip through your folds, smearing it with your abundant slick and only then placed it exactly where you wanted it.

When you let yourself sink into his dick you felt the delicious stretch that you craved so much. Stephen stretched you so perfectly, his cock felt like it was made especially for you and you never got tired of that feeling and never stopped being amazed at how he made you feel. As if making love to Stephen was the only thing in the world you were sure you were made for.

Stephen groaned at the sensation, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you back to his lips, kissing you with the characteristic desperation of when he gave himself over to his own pleasure. You had barely moved and he was already pulsing inside you, begging for his release. You leaned on his shoulders and began to slowly move up and down, gyrating your hips sensually and surrendering to your own pleasure. Stephen wrapped one arm around your waist and grabbed your ass cheek, squeezing it so hard you knew he would leave purple fingerprints on your skin.

"Fuck yes" He moaned making your whole body tingle. "You feel so good, sweetheart. You always feel so fucking good."

You let out a low hum, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling it lightly as the pleasure increased.

The thunder rumbled again and with it a fine rain began to fall, but you didn't care about it, in fact you received the cold drops with pleasure, as if they had some magical quality capable of making you even more eager for each other.

Stephen grabbed your ass cheeks with both hands and started helping you with the movements, thrusting up and moving you on top of him with more force and speed.

"Oh god, Stephen..." You moaned, lolling your head back and surrendering to the growing pleasure. Stephen took advantage of the fact that your breasts were on display for him and buried his face between them, nibbling and sucking on your skin. His groans and grunts getting louder and louder as he got closer to his release.

The rain intensified, washing you both with cold water and making you shiver and your hair stick to your back. Stephen's skin, however, was still as hot as before, he was always so warm, and the hot and cold sensation only added to your pleasure. Everything felt perfect, as if nature itself was blessing the love you were making. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment.

"Look at me, sweetheart." Stephen demanded. "I want to see when you cum on my cock. I know you're close. I can feel it."

You opened your eyes and bit your bottom lip. You loved knowing that Stephen had complete control over you. That he knew you so well to the point of recognizing each of the signs your body showed him.

"You're so fucking good, Stephen. Cock feels amazing." You praised feeling the knot tightening in your stomach.

Your movements became faster and equally clumsier, the sensuality giving way to the desperation of the search for the sweet release you craved so much. Stephen took complete control, moving you on top of him and thrusting up against your movements and you could both feel yourselves being dragged to the edge, and as the sensation grew dangerously close to unbearable, another sensation took hold of you with the same proportion, a love so great that it seemed like it would make your chest break in two. You doubted anyone could love someone more than you loved Stephen.

"Oh shit, sweetheart, I'm so close. Tell me you can feel it. Don't wanna finish before you."

You cupped his face between your hands, making him look at you and taking back control, putting more force on your hips and moving back and forth, letting the delicious contact of his pelvic bone and hair rubbing against your clit be the final trigger that would pull you into your ecstasy.

And without you needing to announce it, you came hard and the strong contraction of your walls squeezing his cock was enough to pull him along with you and when he finally got there he kissed you like never before, with a little desperation , but with a love so great that it didn't need to be verbalized, but he did it anyway, murmuring on your lips how much he loved you, how special you were, and how nothing in the world could take you away from him.

Your body was shaking on top of his and you didn't know if it was from the force of the orgasm, or the way you were feeling or simply because of the cold rain falling on you, but either way, Stephen wrapped you in his strong arms and carried you inside while outside the rain intensified.

The two of you ended up in the shower together, the hot water was welcomed by your cold skin and although you hated washing your hair at night, you didn't have much of a choice.

Stephen soaped himself quickly and took the lead, taking the opportunity to soap your back, being extra gentle while doing it and giving small kisses in the back of your neck.

"Do you think this will ever subside and we'll become a normal couple?" He asked surprising you. You turned to face him and let the hot water rinse the shampoo from your hair.

"And what would a normal couple be?" You asked, putting some shampoo in your hand and lathering his hair. You needed to stand on your tiptoes to reach his head and he could very well bend down, but instead he preferred to see you struggling because it was adorable. His words.

"You know, sex once a week, sometimes less. Good friends, but not so good lovers." He explained.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't ask yourself the same question sometimes, but you decided to be completely honest in your answer.

"I can't predict the future, but the way you made me feel out there..."

He waited for you to finish what you were saying, but you just pulled him forward, letting the water rinse his hair and dedicated yourself to applying conditioner to his hair and yours.

"What..." He insisted and you sighed cupping his cheek.

"I love you so much. Too much. Sometimes I feel this love crushing my chest or threatening to break it in two and it's a feeling so strong that I know I need to get it out of here and put it somewhere else otherwise I feel I'm going to explode. When we have sex it's like I'm putting my love in the right place. So, I don't see us having sex once a week because where would I put my love?"

You grimaced realizing the whole thing made much more sense in your head then when you said it out loud, but Stephen smiled.  "You're adorable indeed, you know that?" He said pulling you to his lips and kissing you softly.

"You know you can place your love on me whenever you want, don't you?" He teased and you slapped his shoulder.

"Shut up! You were the one who asked."

"And I liked the answer." He defended himself.

You pulled him to your lips, kissing him harder this time, letting the water rinse off what was left of the conditioner, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Stephen barely had time to turn off the shower and you were already grinding yourself in him. Maybe that was what made him so crazy about you, you were insatiable and he was the perfect match for you.

He threw you on the bed and filled the room with countless candles he conjured. He lit them with a complicated gesture of his fingers lighting up the room, and then crawled over to you with a beautiful smile on his lips that made your heart flutter.

"What do I do with you, Y/n? So much fire!"

He ran his lips over your breasts and your collarbone, moving them up your neck and stopping at your chin, leaving you with your mouth open, waiting for the kiss that he maliciously denied.

"Be my firefighter." You rasped and he giggled right in your ear, the baritone making your entire body tingle.

"No, I don't want to put out this fire." He said biting your earlobe and making you swallow thickly and squeeze your thighs together.

"Tell me you love me.” He asked, his eyes fixed on yours, his hands running down your body, his fingertips ghosting your skin.

"Again?"

"Yes, again and again and again." He traced your neck and collarbone with the tip of his tongue and moved up to your chin, biting it.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so much..." He interrupted you with a hungry kiss and his hand finally reached where you needed him most. Your legs spread scandalously for him and he dipped his fingers in your folds.

"Look at this! So fucking wet for me again."

You closed your eyes, delighting in the touch of his slender fingers. They penetrated you and you began to move your hips against his hand much to his delight.

"I want your mouth." You asked through gritted teeth, desire barely letting you think straight. "Please."

He nibbled on your lower lip and increased the movements of his fingers.

"Want me to eat you, uh?"

You swallowed thickly, “…and I want you in my mouth too.”

He hissed, putting his tongue in your mouth and sucking yours hard. "...So fucking dirty, sweetheart."

But you knew he loved everything about you, you both loved each other in equal measure.

He rolled to the side and turned so you had access to his cock and turned you on your side, putting his head between your legs and diving into your folds. You moaned loudly, but you were eager to take his cock in your hand and put it in your mouth, delighting in the sensation of sucking and being sucked. You doubted that there was anything better in the world.

One of Stephen's many qualities was that he, unlike many men, had no problem getting dirty between a woman's legs. On the contrary, he took pleasure in it. When he gave you oral, it wasn't just his mouth he used, he used his nose, his chin, his goatee. Everything he could use to give you maximum pleasure and that night it wasn’t different.

He sucked your entrance, licked your wet folds, nudged his nose to your clit and sucked your juices, spitting them back out, making a mess. He loved it as much as you did and when he finally started sucking your clit and penetrating you with his fingers, you felt your body becoming weak.

It was how Stephen made you feel most of the time, weak compared to the strength of the love you felt for him.

You used to be outrageously loud when Stephen was eating you, but all your moans were muffled by his cock in your mouth.

You loved Stephen’s cock and he knew it, he was very proud of it. The way you constantly sucked him made him lose control of his actions and you loved watching him get lost in his own pleasure knowing that you were responsible for making him feel so good.

You started by sucking his head and then ran your tongue down his entire length, leaving it completely wet with your saliva, just the way you liked it. Your hands gently massaged his balls, eliciting a muffled moan from him while you flicked your tongue in his frenulum, licking and sucking the special spot and making him squirm with pleasure, but at no point did he stop eating you, on the contrary, his pleasure only made him more eager to give you more pleasure and the thing worked perfectly.

When you finally started to actually suck him, the two of you were close and the wet sounds you made were so arousing combined with the sound of the rain that seemed to get heavier and heavier outside.

You took him out of your mouth to breathe and gave him a couple of jerks before going back to sucking him and this time you went all the way down letting him go to the back of your throat.

Stephen stopped the suction on your clit with a pop and moaned loudly.

"Fuck sweetheart, swallow my cock... gonna make me cum." He rasped giving your ass cheek a hard slap and resuming his work with even more desire.

His words only served to push you forward and even though your eyes were watering, you continued sucking him and fucking him with your mouth, feeling him pulse and start to spill into your mouth as his mouth made you see stars.

You came together in each other's mouths and you both rolled to the side, lying on your backs, trying to regulate your breathing and recover.

"I think we outdid ourselves tonight." He said impressed and you both giggled until you stopped and felt silent.

"I don't want to go home." You confessed, sitting down. Stephen had his head resting in his hands, the position leaving his biceps visible. He seemed like a god to you. You doubted that a man could be more beautiful than your boyfriend.

"I don't want to share you with the world. I want you to be mine alone."

He sat up and caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of your wet hair behind your ear gently.

"I'm yours. No matter how hard I work or what I have to do, at the end of the day all I want most is to come back to you."

"But it's not like being here." You pouted and he smiled reassuringly.

"Then we'll come back here as often as you want. I can arrange that. Ask Wong to take over some things for me, pass some tasks on to other masters."

"You promise?" You asked hopefully.

"I promise." He smiled and then remained silent for a minute, when he spoke again there was a certain emotion in his voice.

"You said something out there that made me think."

"What?"

He smiled "That I'm the only good thing in your life."

"You are."

He held your chin between his thumb and index finger. "You were the best thing that ever happened in my life, sweetheart."

He kissed you softly and continued "We were meant for each other, it just took us some time to find each other. But now that we're together, nothing will keep us apart. Definitely not my work."

You smiled "So you don't think we'll end up like those couples that only have sex once a week?" You teased making he chuckle.

"Never."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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'Complicated' (Part 2) - Kaz Brekker x reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names)

Genre: modern AU, slow burn

word count: 5.5k

notes: please let me know what you think <3

Finally, a couple of days later, Inej arrived in Ketterdam. Kaz waited for her at the harbor, hoping she would throw herself into his arms and that he could finally hug her tightly. Instead, their greetings were far more reserved, though her wide smile still managed to warm him up in seconds.

She had many people to see, so they didn’t have the chance to be alone until late at night. When they finally had a moment together, they settled on his couch to watch a movie. Kaz desperately wanted to show her the progress he had made, but he felt a familiar sense of hesitation.

After battling with himself, he finally removed his gloves, meeting her surprised gaze as he slowly reached for her hand. Inej's eyes lit up, and Kaz couldn't suppress a small, satisfied smile.

During those days, they managed to stay closer than they had ever been before. Inej divided her time between her place and his, and their evenings together became a cherished routine.

One night, they watched the Masterchef finale on his bed. Inej lay with her head in his lap, and Kaz gently caressed her hair. y/n had been right— Inej was loving it. Kaz didn’t think much about y/n, except occasionally when he caught her Instagram stories. He had considered writing to her to comment on the winner of the cooking competition, as they had both been rooting for the same contestant. Kaz had his phone in his hand, while the other was scratching Inej’s head. She made a satisfied hum, closing her eyes, distracting Kaz from his thoughts about y/n. He tossed the phone away, focusing entirely on Inej.

A few days later, Kaz received a notification of a picture from y/n. It was a photo of different shades of nail polishes. He chuckled, circled the one he liked, and sent the picture back. “What’s that smile?” Inej asked, surprised, from the other side of the table where they were having lunch.

“Jesper sent a stupid thing,” Kaz lied effortlessly, though not without a pang of guilt. He felt a momentary sense of relief that Inej hadn't probed further, but the guilt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his contentment.

Kaz couldn't escape the irony of his situation. Here he was, trying to overcome his touch aversion with a prostitute, someone paid to be physically close to him, while desperately wanting to be intimate with Inej, who was going around the world saving girls from being sold as prostitutes. The contradiction gnawed at him, twisting his gut every time he thought about it. How could he reconcile these two opposing realities?

Inej had dedicated her life to freeing those trapped in the same circumstances that had led Kaz to y/n. She was a beacon of hope, a relentless force for good, while Kaz's actions seemed to undercut everything she stood for. The more he pondered this, the deeper his guilt grew. It wasn't just about the physical interactions with y/n; it was about what those interactions represented. He was using someone else to cope with his trauma, someone who might have been in a position similar to the girls Inej fought so hard to save.

Kaz found himself replaying his conversations with y/n. She had been understanding, patient, even kind. They had laughed together, and she had helped him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Yet every time he saw Inej's face, radiant with purpose and conviction, he felt like a fraud. How could he face her, knowing the truth?

***

Inej found out about the chocolate and wine tasting thing and thought it would be hilarious to go to make fun of the people there. They were enjoying the experience, their laughter a shared secret, when he spotted y/n entering the restaurant, her arm wrapped around a guy. It was the same guy from the club—the one she had said she stopped seeing because they weren't compatible.

As she scanned the room, y/n's eyes locked with Kaz's. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping she wouldn’t approach. But she did, her face a mix of shock and recognition. She made her way to their table, her expression quickly morphing into an enthusiastic smile.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm such a fan! I watch all of your TikToks," she said to Inej, her voice bright and sincere.

Inej stood up, her smile as warm as ever. "Thank you! It's always nice to meet a fan," she replied, extending her hand.

They chatted for a bit, with y/n telling Inej how her videos had inspired her to take up pilates, which was only half-true. y/n had actually taken up the sport because, as she had once humorously told Kaz, a client had requested an intricate position, that she accurately acted out for him, that resulted in her pulling a few muscles, forcing her to stay in bed for days.

"Can you take a picture of us?" y/n asked, handing her phone to Kaz. His heart pounded as he took the phone, trying to maintain a neutral expression. As he snapped the photo, his eyes fell on y/n’s hand resting on Inej’s shoulder, her nails painted the color he had chosen. It took all his self-control not to react.

"There you are, always running around with this one," said the guy, approaching them and wrapping his arm around y/n’s waist. "Baby, that's Inej Ghafa!"

"Oh right, the girl you yap about all day?" he laughed, pulling her close.

"I don't yap," she pouted playfully.

"Sure you don't," he said, kissing her pout.

Kaz couldn’t figure out what he was feeling. He wondered how much time they were spending together and didn't like how carelessly the guy was able to kiss her. He wondered if she still tasted like cherries.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," y/n said, pulling away from the kiss. "It was really nice to meet you, Inej."

They walked back to their table, the guy's hand slipping from her waist to rest on her ass, guiding her to her seat. Kaz's jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away. The rest of the evening was uneventful, and fortunately, y/n and her companion were out of his sight.

As Kaz and Inej returned to their conversation, his thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. The guilt gnawed at him, and he couldn't help but wonder how Inej would react if she knew the truth. Would she understand his reasons, or would she see it as a betrayal? The irony of his situation was inescapable—trying to overcome his touch aversion with a prostitute, while being with someone who fought against the very thing he was exploiting.

***

A few days later, Inej had to leave again, promising to return in a few months. Kaz stood at the harbor, watching her ship prepare to depart. He managed to brush his lips against hers for the briefest moment, and she smiled widely at him, her eyes full of warmth and promise. That smile stayed with him, a bittersweet memory as he watched the ship sail away.

Each time Inej left, Kaz felt an embarrassingly deep sense of loss, a hollowness that settled in his chest. Jesper, ever the loyal friend, had to break into his house just to convince him to show up at work. It had become a routine, a cycle of anticipation, brief happiness, and then the inevitable slump into solitude.

During the weeks Inej had been with him, Kaz had experienced a closeness he hadn't thought possible. They had shared quiet moments on his couch, watched movies, and even engaged in playful banter about the contestants on Masterchef. It was during those moments, when he held her hand without gloves or caressed her hair as she rested her head in his lap, that he realized just how far he had come. But it also made him think about all the things he still wanted to try, the progress he wanted to make.

The weeks with Inej had stirred something in him, a desire to push further, to explore more. He wanted to test the boundaries of his progress, to see if he could translate the tentative intimacy he had shared with Inej into something more confident. So, he decided to book y/n for the first free time she had.

***

“Hello, lovebird,” she smirked as she opened the door, making him enter her room. “How was girlfriend-time?”

Kaz rolled his eyes at the nickname but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine.”

“Anything interesting to tell?” she asked, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to her. Kaz hesitated for a moment before joining her.

“Well, uh, I held her hand, scratched her head like you suggested, thanks for that. And we kissed.” He felt a bit guilty discussing these intimate moments so casually, as if they were just part of his homework.

Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Let's talk about this kiss,” she said, leaning in closer. Out of habit, she climbed onto his lap, her arms bare and exposed. Kaz hesitated, unsure of where to place his hands, before slowly resting them on her covered thighs.

“Well, it was fast and light,” he admitted, feeling the familiar awkwardness settle in.

“Don't minimize it, Kaz! It's wonderful! Bet you got all sorts of ideas,” she grinned, nudging his nose with hers playfully.

“Kind of,” he laughed nervously, the warmth of her proximity making him slightly more at ease.

“So? What do you want to do next?” she asked, her voice softening as she sensed his unease.

“I was thinking of sticking with making kisses bearable, and then, since summer is coming, it’s time for more skin exposure.” It still felt strange to talk about these things as if they were just mechanical actions, devoid of the emotional weight they carried.

“Rock my world, Brekker,” y/n murmured as she rested her head on his bicep. The position was perfect for a kiss, her head angled just right. Kaz leaned in, brushing their lips together. He repeated the motion several times, leaning in, pulling back, lingering a second longer each time.

"You're cute when you're focused," she commented, making him shake his head and laugh nervously. Kaz could feel her breath on his mouth, and it felt oddly normal. He wanted to deepen the kiss but felt embarrassed, so he moved to her cheek instead.

“Can you… can you kiss… me?” he stammered, feeling the prolonged contact start to make him dizzy. They swapped positions, and Kaz found himself resting his head on her lap. “Stop me whenever you want,” she said before kissing his forehead.

Kaz released a shaky breath, nothing ever feeling better than that small kiss. y/n continued, leaving a trail of tender kisses around his face. “This is so sweet I could cry,” she whispered at a certain point.

“Please don’t,” he laughed, blushing.

He felt particularly good, encouraged by everything he had managed to do with Inej and ready to push his boundaries further. y/n passed her hand through his neatly combed hair, raising his head to kiss the corner of his lips. Kaz felt the familiar anxiety rise, but his starved body craved more, so he didn’t move. He stood still as she kissed his full lips, but he stopped her hand before she could cup his face.

Kaz held her hand to his chest as if it were as his life depended on it while she urged him to deepen the kiss. He forced himself to let her in, feeling her tongue searching for his. His body tensed, but she murmured against his lips, “Breathe, Kaz.”

He took her advice, trying to steady himself. When their tongues touched, he felt a wave of nausea, but she was quick, distracting him with her hand still in his hair. y/n kept teasing him, never fully kissing him. His body was torn between fear and newfound desire. At some point, he couldn't take it anymore. Kaz tangled his hands into her hair and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He let himself feel their tongues sliding against each other. In that moment, the entire building could go up in flames and he would have preferred staying there, burning alive, instead of leaving her mouth. Her cherry lip balm was intoxicating. 

He felt her hands on his chest and cursed himself for not being able to telepathically tell her to let her hands slip to his neck and pull him closer. The kiss went on, and he was unable to let go, feeling as though he could drown but nothing bad would happen as long as her lips were on his. A small moan escaped her mouth, and Kaz was pulled back into reality so violently that he had to get up.

He grounded himself by pacing around, releasing heavy breaths. “That… was a great kiss,” she commented, nodding. Kaz was unsure if she was talking to him or to herself. 

Kaz stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure. The intensity of the kiss had left him shaken but also strangely satisfied. He looked at y/n, who was still sitting on the bed, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss. He couldn’t help but wonder what Inej would think of all this, but he pushed the thought aside, focusing on the progress he had made.

Only in that moment did Kaz realize how his body had reacted to the kiss, feeling his face change shade with embarrassment. “Well, must've been good even for you,” y/n remarked, letting her eyes linger on him. “Come on, there's no need to be ashamed. It's natural,” she shrugged, offering a reassuring smile.

“I'm not... uhm, used to this,” Kaz admitted, sitting in a chair far from her and avoiding her gaze.

“I am, so don't worry, lov— Kaz,” she corrected herself, sensing his discomfort.

He continued to blush, silently praying for his body to calm down. “We have some more time, can we just... talk?” he asked, trying to shift the focus away from the lingering awkwardness.

The girl nodded, seeming relaxed as she settled back into the chair. “So, you're back with that guy?” Kaz asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation into more neutral territory.

She wrinkled her nose. “I just wanted to eat chocolate, drink wine, and have sex,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, he couldn't make me come even if his life depended on it, but his—”

Kaz interrupted her quickly, feeling uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. “y/n, oversharing,” he remarked with a hint of exasperation.

“Sorry, sorry,” she snorted, realizing her misstep.

“Why do you keep going out with him?”

“Not everyone finds the love of their life on the first try, Kaz,” she replied with a shrug. “Some of us have to go on bad dates and have bad sex.”

Kaz never explicitly thought of Inej as the love of his life, but he had never entertained thoughts about anyone else either. The idea of her potentially leaving him someday made his stomach sink, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to.

“See you Wednesday?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the knot in his stomach.

“I haven't told you? A client is taking me away for a week,” she replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “He has, like, a lawyer conference or something. Can't fucking wait. Five-star hotel and all. He's promised me spa treatments, fancy dinners, and shopping. It's going to be awesome.”

Kaz studied her smile, suddenly realizing that she probably had some form of relationship not just with him, but with other clients as well. The thought unsettled him deeply, stirring a mix of jealousy and discomfort he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't shake the image of her with other men, indulging in luxurious trips and intimate moments, all while maintaining a professional demeanor.

Deciding it was time to go, he stood up abruptly. His mind was racing with conflicted thoughts—feelings of possessiveness he hadn't known he harbored, mixed with a stark reminder that their interactions were transactional at their core. As he made his way to the door, he struggled to maintain his composure, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than intended.

***

Kaz kept watching her Instagram stories, each post depicting scenes of luxury and leisure—tanning by a pool, sipping cocktails at parties, early morning runs at sunrise, and romantic beach strolls at sunset. It baffled him why he felt such a surge of anger. They didn't know each other well; she never shared personal details. Yet, there he was, on a lonely Sunday night, a bottle of alcohol his only companion, staring at another picture of her in a stunning dress against a breathtaking backdrop.

The alcohol only fueled his frustration. How could she just leave, especially when he felt they were making progress? In a moment of impulse, he opened his banking app and took a screenshot of a money transfer ready to be confirmed—3000 kruge. 'Come back?' he typed beneath the screenshot, hesitating momentarily before hitting send.

The next morning, the hangover hit him hard, along with the realization of what he had done. Regret flooded in as he replayed the scene in his mind. Sending money felt like a desperate move, one that exposed his vulnerability more than he was comfortable admitting.

Throughout the day, he constantly checked his phone, hoping for a response that didn't come. He cursed himself for acting on impulse, for letting his emotions drive him to such a reckless gesture. Deep down, he knew it wasn't about the money—it was about wanting her presence, her company, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

As the day wore on, he wrestled with conflicting emotions—anger at himself for being so impulsive, frustration at her for leaving without a word, and a gnawing sense of loneliness that seemed to deepen with each passing hour. 

***

Kaz sat in his car beneath her apartment building, grappling with embarrassment over his drunken text. He stared at the glowing screen of his phone, contemplating whether to turn the car around and head home. He knew he should, but something pushed him to go upstairs despite the awkwardness he felt. His injured leg throbbed uncomfortably with each step, almost as if it, too, protested the decision.

Entering her apartment, Kaz settled onto the familiar couch, listening to the sounds emanating from y/n's room until it was his turn. As they settled on her bed, y/n kept her arms crossed, her expression expectant, while Kaz avoided meeting her gaze.

"Kaz, what was that?" she finally asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

"y/n, I don't know. I was drunk and..." He trailed off, unsure how to justify his actions when even he didn't fully understand them.

"Kaz, if you're catching feelings for me..." she started, but he cut her off firmly.

"I'm not," he asserted, though his words rang hollow in his own ears.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out, her hand finding his. "If that's the case, you shouldn't be embarrassed. What we're doing is... intimate and sweet. It would be normal to mistake it for something more."

"I'm not doing anything, just a drunk text," Kaz repeated, the words feeling inadequate even as he said them.

"If you ever do, you have to let me know," she said softly, her thumb brushing against his hand. "You gave me your first proper kiss, Kaz. It's normal to be confused."

"I'm doing this for my girlfriend, who I love very much," he replied hastily, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"I know, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we shouldn't see each other anymore," she replied, her voice tinged with understanding.

They spent the next hour making out, Kaz finding it difficult to let go of y/n's hair. He wanted to explore more, but it all felt too overwhelming. y/n tried to touch his arms and chest, but he had to stop her before it became too much. He managed to leave a few chaste kisses on her neck, but when she tried to reciprocate, he almost lost control, so they focused on their lips and faces.

y/n shamelessly moaned into his mouth, and even Kaz couldn't help but let a few sounds escape his lips. Just as the intensity between them peaked, a hard knock on the door made them spring apart, the first time they had done so in many minutes.

"y/n, you're late!" one of her roommates protested from outside, breaking the charged atmosphere.

They looked at each other with wide eyes, suddenly aware of the time. Kaz checked his phone and realized he was supposed to have left thirty minutes ago. A nervous laugh escaped them both, neither daring to meet the other's gaze.

"I should go," Kaz finally said, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. "I think I need a minute," he added, his face flushing with embarrassment while y/n smirked, a hint of satisfaction in her expression.

Kaz insisted on leaving extra money for the additional time they had spent together. "There's no need to, we got carried away," y/n protested, but Kaz was resolute.

"Does this happen often?" he asked curiously, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

"No," she admitted quietly.

"Then take these," Kaz said firmly, leaving the money on her desk before swiftly exiting the apartment, the weight of their encounter heavy on his mind as he made his way back to his car.

Kaz entered the Crow Club, his mind heavy with the events of the previous hour. "You are so late, Brekker," Jesper commented, raising an eyebrow. "I had to say you had the flu."

Kaz shrugged, collapsing into the chair next to him. "Where were you?" Jesper pressed, a suspicious edge to his voice.

"I had stuff to do," Kaz replied casually, pulling out his phone to reply to the messages from Inej that had accumulated throughout the day.

Jesper leaned in, sniffing the air. "Why do you smell of cherries?" he asked, his nose crinkling as he leaned closer.

Kaz shoved him away, hoping to sound convincing. "I don’t smell of cherries. What the fuck?"

Jesper narrowed his eyes, not easily fooled. "Are you cheating on Inej?" he asked abruptly, his tone sharper than usual.

Kaz's heart skipped a beat. "What? Jesper, come on. I can’t even touch people," he said, avoiding Jesper's gaze.

Jesper hummed, skepticism clear in his expression. "You’re weird, man. I’m telling you. And you've been acting stranger than usual lately," he added, his eyes searching Kaz's face for any signs of deceit. "Your clothes, they don't look like you've been working. More like you've been... elsewhere."

Kaz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I had things to take care of. It's not what you think."

Jesper's eyes narrowed further. "And what am I supposed to think, Kaz? You're disappearing for hours, coming back smelling like cherries, and acting all shifty. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were up to something."

Kaz's mind raced, trying to find a plausible explanation that would satisfy Jesper's growing suspicion. "It's complicated, Jesper. Just trust me."

Jesper crossed his arms, not letting it go. "Complicated how? You're not giving me much to trust here. You owe me more than just 'stuff to do.'"

Kaz clenched his jaw, feeling the pressure of Jesper's scrutiny. "I'm handling things, okay? Personal things. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Jesper's eyes stayed locked on Kaz, clearly not convinced. "Personal things, huh? Well, I hope for your sake, and Inej's, that whatever you're doing is worth all this secrecy. Because if it blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you."

Kaz sighed, the weight of Jesper's suspicions adding to his already heavy burden. "Noted, Jesper. Noted."

Jesper watched him for a moment longer before shaking his head and walking away, leaving Kaz to his thoughts. The encounter left Kaz feeling even more unsettled, the realization that he was not only lying to himself but also to his closest friends gnawing at him. He needed to get a grip on his emotions and focus, before everything he was working for crumbled around him.

***

He didn't see her at the Crow Club on Friday night, and it made him restless. He had seen from her Instagram stories that she was heading out. Did he hope she would show up at his club? Maybe. Was he glaring at the entrance, waiting for her? Absolutely.

As he changed spots, he saw that she posted another story. It took all his strength to wait a few minutes before looking at it. She was tagging the Emerald Palace. The only things preventing Kaz from throwing his phone against the wall were the facts that he was in public and that his phone was already hanging on for dear life.

He decided to turn his phone off for the night, and probably for the next 24 hours. If anything in her stories suggested that Pekka Rollins was her client, he knew he would lose it completely. A drunk text begging her to come back would be nothing compared to what he might do.

As Kaz tried to focus on his work, his thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. He wondered if she thought about him at all during her time with other clients. He hated how possessive he felt, knowing that he was just one of many in her life. He couldn't stand the idea of her being with Pekka Rollins. The thought of her in his arms made his blood boil.

Kaz replayed their conversations in his mind, trying to understand his feelings. He knew he was doing this for Inej, to be able to touch her and be with her without fear. But every time he thought about y/n, it felt more complicated. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a part of him that enjoyed their time together, that looked forward to it. The intimacy they shared, even if it was paid for, was something he had never experienced before.

The next night, Kaz found himself distracted at the Crow Club again. He couldn't help but check his phone, even though he had promised himself he wouldn't. When he saw no new notifications from y/n, he felt a mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he shouldn't care so much, but he did. He needed to keep his emotions in check, for Inej's sake and for his own sanity.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the tasks at hand. There were deals to be made, plans to be executed. But even as he immersed himself in work, a part of him remained tethered to the thought of y/n, wondering what she was doing and if she thought about him at all.

***

Kaz and y/n were on her bed, as usual. She was wearing only a bra and panties, and he was trying to let his bare hands wander around her body. He managed to touch her arms comfortably enough, but any other place still made him flinch. They were talking about the latest episode of a show he had made her watch. Well, he had annoyed her so much that she finally gave in and started it. He had tried the same with Inej, but his girlfriend had dropped it after the pilot.

“Kaz, you’re tickling me,” she laughed, trying to squirm away.

“Oh, am I?” he teased, pushing his boundaries only for the sake of making her contort and laugh.

“Please, Kaz, I can’t breathe,” she kept trying to escape him, but apparently, his demons could stay at bay if it meant annoying her. Kaz kept tickling everywhere he could reach, pulling her back against him when she managed to get too far away.

“Safe word, safe word,” she screamed playfully, and he finally stopped. They were both shifting like fools, with Kaz almost pinning her in a corner between the wall and the bed. He was on his knees, his bad leg screaming at him, while she was on her back, half-seated, half-lying down. One of his hands was still on her hip. He squeezed it softly, as if trying to test his boundaries even more.

They were both catching their breaths, and Kaz did everything he could to keep his eyes on hers, without letting them wander over her exposed body.

“You can look if you want,” she said, as if reading his thoughts, batting her lashes and shifting position to lie down better.

“I don’t want to—”

“To what? Make me uncomfortable? I’m a whore, Kaz.”

He didn’t want to do it, but in the end, he was just a man. Kaz let his gaze study her curves, which until that day he had tried so desperately to ignore. He felt a strange mix of guilt and curiosity. His eyes traced the lines of her body, lingering on the soft rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her waist. He couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull he felt towards her, and it unnerved him.

His thoughts raced. What was he doing here? Was this really just about getting comfortable with physical contact for Inej’s sake, or was there something more? He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to stay detached and focused. But here, with y/n, he felt that control slipping away. Was it the intimacy they shared, or was it simply the fact that she saw him, really saw him, in a way that no one else did?

As he continued to study her, he felt a pang of guilt. Inej was the one he loved, the one he was doing all of this for. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was betraying her somehow, even though there was nothing truly romantic between him and y/n. It was confusing, and Kaz hated feeling confused. He was used to having a plan, a clear path, and this situation was anything but clear.

Her allusive smile drew him back to the present. She seemed to sense his internal struggle, and instead of pushing him, she just lay there, allowing him to take his time. He appreciated that about her, the way she seemed to understand without needing an explanation.

His hand was still firmly on her waist, and y/n raised a foot, getting it close to his face. He chuckled, trying to grip her ankle, but she kept pulling away. After a few tries, his leg decided to give up, and a sharp pain made him hiss and lose his balance, falling on her.

Kaz could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. He became painfully aware of how much skin was touching him, and he silently thanked Ghezen that he was still clothed. y/n saw him pale. “Kaz, it’s okay. It’s just us.”

The word “us” made him feel worse than her skin. For a second, his gaze fell on her lips. What did “us” even mean in this context? They weren’t a couple, and yet there was an undeniable bond between them. Did that make him unfaithful? Or was this just part of the process, a necessary step on his journey to being with Inej in the way he wanted?

“Great kiss moment,” she assured him, uncertain if he was about to throw up or skip that step and die directly on her.

Surprising both of them, he leaned in, leaving a small kiss on her lips before raising himself up from her body. He sat back, his breathing uneven, and rubbed his aching leg absentmindedly.

She watched him carefully, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Kaz, you’re making a lot of progress. You should be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, but the turmoil inside him was far from settled. The lines between his goals, his feelings for Inej, and his unexpected attachment to y/n were blurring, and he didn’t know how to navigate them. “Thanks,” he muttered, looking away.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I wanted to ask you to try something, but I get it if you say no, it’s weird," he began.

"Tell me," she shrugged curiously, her gaze fixed on him.

Kaz exhaled deeply, bracing himself for the impending embarrassment. "With Inej, we never share a bed. I usually sleep on the couch when she’s at my place, and I wanted to—"

"Sleep with me?" she cut him off, her eyebrows raising slightly.

He nodded silently, watching her reaction closely.

y/n considered it for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "It’s a bit weird," she agreed after a pause, "but I’ve done weirder shit for sure."

"Are you sure you’d be okay with it?" Kaz asked cautiously.

"Yeah, say when," she replied casually, with a hint of a smile.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

S2 Entry 1: Want More?

Photo credit: Pinterest

Summary: Carmy needs to make his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) feel good after she has a grueling day at work. (1043 Words) SMUT.

Warnings: Swearing, comfort, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, finger sucking, dword use, Soft Dom!Carmy.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: Snowstorm

I remember a conversation happening at Noma that went a little something like this: what is your favorite time and place to have sex?

I, of course, didn’t participate, being a socially terrified barely-adult who had no experiences (yet) and also too focused on my prep to hold a conversation—though the being focused part held more weight in my decision not to speak up because, and I hope I’ve established this, my connection to food is catastrophic. Talking divides attention. Humans are not built to multi-task; at best, we can flip back and forth between a few tasks in rapid succession, but if you wanted to get good at something—and I mean really good at something; knock people on their ass, smoke those motherfuckers for daring to challenge you—you need to cut out all the noise, bury all the bullshit, and put yourself to work.

So, yeah, I didn’t participate. I don’t even remember what the rest of the conversation was, I’ll be honest, because I tuned it out the moment I heard the question. But it’s been haunting me as of late. Not because I wanted to know what all the other chefs were talking about, but because I might have accidentally found the answer for myself.

Late November, about 10 pm or something. Wind howling against the windows, ice pelting the glass, no car horns, no trains, no people yapping or yelling outside, no noisy neighbors. This soft, gentle quiet that permeated the bone-crushing cold that was my apartment bedroom minus one radiator.

Because landlords are fucking demons.

The only other sounds are of us, of her moans, these saccharine, high-pitched, breathy noises that tumble from her mouth in a dulcet melody, the creaking of the bed, of the ragged breaths I’m dragging past my throat. Her hands are still cold as they rest limp against my abdomen but are warmer than they were when she first tangled them in my hair. She’s helpless, powerless, vulnerable; has forfeited her entire being to me. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m mentally drained; do what you want to me, Carmy.

Do what I want? What I want is for you to feel like you’re in heaven, my love. I want to hear you whine in my ear about how good it feels, how full you are, how you don’t want me to stop. I want you to arch your back just. Like. That. And flutter around me with another mind-numbing orgasm, babble my name like it’s a prayer.

“Is that good, pretty girl?” I murmured in her ear. “Want more?”

I already knew the answer.

Didn’t mean hearing it wasn’t spine-tingling.

“Please, Carmy.” She weakly hiked her leg higher up my side.

“Please, what, princess?”

Did I understand what she meant? Yes. Even without her saying it, her leg tightening around me, the shadow of her larynx as she swallowed and fought for words, it told me everything I needed to know. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy making a mess of her. I love listening to her stumble over and give up on her words because she feels too good to corral them into a coherent sentence. Makes me feel powerful. In control. Fuck, I needed to feel like I was in control because everything else in my life was spiraling out of control.

“M-more… Harder…”

I hooked my hand under her knee and brought it up, fucking her even deeper. She arched her spine, threw her head back, swore.

“Like that?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes, just like that… Don’t stop…”

 She dragged her fingernails up my torso, dug them into my chest. She was so tight, so hot, so slick; I was fucking delirious. The only thing more important to me than my high was hers. I needed to hear her fall apart again. Come on, princess, show me how pretty you are when you come apart.

“Gimme another one, huh, pretty girl?”

Her coherence went two orgasms ago. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… yes, sir… fuck, that’s so good… Please… please…” She didn’t even know what she was begging for at that point. It was just babbling. Her beautiful, complex, multi-faceted mind, forever going 7 directions at once, synthesizing information from everything and everyone, solving life’s most complex problems—off. Quiet. Empty Like the city outside, buried under 12 inches of snow. And the night was still young.

“Daddy, please…”

Daddy?

“Please, what, princess?”

She called me daddy?

“W-wanna cum…”

Fuck, I could get used to being called that.

I brought my hand down between us and rubbed her clit. She arched her back and whined my name. That’s it, pretty girl. That’s really fucking good, isn’t it? That’s exactly what my baby girl needed after such a rough day at work, huh? Needed Daddy’s dick filling you up and making you forget everything you were so stressed about.

She clamped a hand around my wrist, the one that was holding her leg, and dragged it up so she could close her lips around my thumb. She sucked, pressing her tongue against the pad, and despite my dulled sensations, it was fucking disastrous how fucking good that felt. It was a stunning sight—her eyes closed, cheeks reddened, sweaty hair sticking to her forehead, her plush lips around my thumb because she just needed a sensation in her mouth.

I could burn it into my memory if it wasn’t for how fucking close to coming apart I was. I didn’t have words. The heat in the pit of my stomach roared into an inferno, sent a wave of blistering warmth up my abdomen and my chest. Fuck, she was going to ruin me by being like this, and I wanted every bit of it. Please, keep being so needy. Please, call me Daddy again, beg me for more, whine my name, lose your words, suck on my thumb because all other sensibilities have escaped. You know I am for you; I want you to feel so good that you can’t think anymore. I need you to feel so good that you can barely breathe.

She pried her eyes open to meet mine.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” I whispered.

Late evening. Middle of a snowstorm. That’s my answer.

Tags: @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899 @carmenberzattosgf

[ozzgin]

Ok, could I just say I LOVE how you write for your Baki characters, they're always a treat 🥺✨️

May I request another prehistoric reader, but when they revived her along with Pickle, she just looked so roughed up that she looks like the definition of surviving

What could cause such scars? Well they wouldn't have to wait long since turns out she's like really clumsy, like "nearly losing an eye by tripping on air and onto a metal pole" clumsy

Pickle just has to be by her side every time to catch her before she actually lose something

I love the idea! I can definitely picture it, thank you for the suggestion and the kind words!

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Clumsy Reader

Featuring Pickle and his challengers and one tough looking reader that turns out to be just extremely clumsy.

The men scan your features with a cautious defensiveness. Here you are, standing tall next to Pickle, with a similarly toned body yet peppered with scars and old wounds. Assuming you have the same survival skills as Pickle, what could you have possibly fought to leave you with such extensive damage? The air is tense as they analyze the possibilities. A T.Rex? It was your main source of food. Multiple of them? Entire packs of ancient elite predators? Were you the main hunter of the pack, taking on challenges that left the other humans scurrying away in fear?

It doesn’t take too long for the mystery to solve itself. The first one to pick up on it is Baki, who just happened to be visiting the enclosure. You’re in the middle of a playful scuffle with Pickle when you decide to impress the newcomer with your signature move. You extend one arm and twist your body slightly, as if gaining traction. Pickle can immediately tell what is about to happen and growls at you, but it’s too late. You swing, and the fist lands in your own face. Baki gasps in shock and you blink a few times in order to process the succession of events. Good Lord, you’re just clumsy. Terribly so.

Now, they have to admit, being this dangerous to yourself and making it this far is rather impressive. Whether in a good or a bad way is another story. The major force of reason in your life seems to be Pickle. Whenever possible, he’s there to stop your ungainly displays. He’s lifted you from the ground more times than he could ever care to count. Truth be told, he does enjoy the fact that you’re this dependent on him. Outside of your clumsiness you’re quite capable and he likes to have one area where he can prove himself as a partner to you.

It’s almost like you and Pickle crawled out of a slapstick comedy. The men are nearly temped to fabricate their own scenarios to check whether you come out unscathed. They’d rather not upset Pickle more than necessary, however. And witnessing your lack of coordination first-hand has also awakened a similar worry towards your safety.

Before they know it, they’re stopping mid-conversation to check on whatever shenanigans you’re up to, ready to interfere. Retsu will silently interrupt your failure and pretend nothing has ever happened, sparing your embarrassment. So does Katsumi, after having a good laugh about it. He finds you extremely entertaining and always compliments your gift of getting into trouble.

Jack doesn’t like to make his empathy known. He’ll ‘accidentally’ step in front of you moments before you’re about to crash into a wall. He just so happens to hold the edge of the barrier right before your head collides with it. Move along, there’s nothing to see.

With Baki there's always a 50% chance he'll fail miserably together with you instead. He's about to stop you from tripping and in doing so his chin hits the pavement at the same time as you. Thankfully Pickle has two hands.

Even Yuujirou is forced to comply with the unspoken rule. He’s been told repeatedly of the importance you and Pickle hold from a cultural and scientifically perspective and he doesn’t disagree with it. Depending on his mood he will laugh at your misfortune or arrogantly scold you, but either way he will prevent your injury. He’s also secretly impressed by your durability.

[kybercrystals94]

Letting Go

Read here on Ao3

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 6 | Battle Scars

Rated: G | Words: 903 | Summary: Story takes place just before Omega leaves to join the Rebellion.

Crosshair sits down next to Hunter on the sand. “Omega told me what happened.”

“I’m sure she did,” Hunter says. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he does not try to take it back. It seems that age has worn down the barriers of his emotions, bitterness and hurt leaking through.

“She said you were being unreasonable, overbearing, and overprotective,” Crosshair continues. “Not to mention your listening skills need some work, because you only care about your side of the argument.”

Hunter’s frown deepens. “Good to know.”

“And I said,” Crosshair goes on, as though Hunter hadn’t spoken, “the same thing I said way back when she was only about this big.” He holds out a hand to demonstrate.

Hunter rolls his eyes, because they never knew Omega when she was that small, but he gets the point.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?”

Hunter sighs. He’s too tired to play this game. “What did you say?”

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you.”

Hunter turns to look at Crosshair, surprised. “When did you tell her that?”

“When we were going to Barton IV,” Crosshair replies, digging a toothpick out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth. “That kid’s always trying to prove herself, isn’t she? That she’s one of us.”

“She is one of us,” Hunter argues.

Crosshair huffs. “Of course she is, but she’s not a soldier, Hunter. She’s our kid, not our brother in arms. I don’t think she’s ever figured out the difference.”

“So she wants to join the Rebellion because she wants to prove herself as a soldier?”

“Not entirely, although I think that is part of it,” Crosshair says.

“And the other part?” Hunter asks.

Crosshair meets his eye. “She might not be a soldier, but she is a fighter. We raised her that way, didn’t we? To stand up for the defenseless, to do what’s right?”

“That’s not…” Hunter stops because his voice gives out, barbed anguish ensnared deep in his throat. He tries to swallow it away, but it is unyielding, so his voice cracks and breaks around it. “That’s not what I want for her. I want her to be safe. I want her to be here.”

A younger Crosshair might have looked away, trying to comfort from arm’s length. But just as time has made carefully constructed emotional walls brittle, time has softened the sharp edges of his brother. The former sniper moves closer, knocking their shoulders together. “I’m scared to lose her too.”

“We fought so hard to get away from war,” Hunter says brokenly, “to get Omega away from war. And she wants to throw herself into another.”

“I don’t want her to go,” Crosshair says. “But I think she’s already made up her mind. I don’t know where she gets her stubbornness from. Certainly not from me.”

Hunter chokes on the laugh that bubbles up through the mire of sorrow. “Hate to break it to you, Cross, but you’ve got a stubborn streak a hundred klicks wide.”

“Do I?” Crosshair muses, and Hunter glances at him in time to see a grin twitch his lips in the moonlight. “Because she reminds me an awful lot of you.”

“I see a little bit of all of us in her,” Hunter admits, “and yet she is still something all her own.”

Crosshair hums in agreement.

“What if she loses that?” Hunter asks. “What if joining the Rebellion steals that spark she’s always had? We changed so much from the time we were cadets and then soldiers. We didn’t have a choice. But Omega does. She doesn’t have to face the horrors we did, experience the pain and suffering. She’s safe here. Why can’t that be enough for her?”

“Omega already has battle scars, Hunter,” Crosshair says. “You think she went unscathed living the life she did before Pabu? The kid’s tougher than she looks.”

“I never said I didn’t think she could handle it,” Hunter argues, “She just shouldn’t have to.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Crosshair says. “She wants to. Whether we like it or not, she’s a grown woman. She needs to make her own decisions. She needs to have her own cause, her own life. She won’t have us forever!”

That last sentence is like a blaster bolt to the heart, a burning, white hot sensation that drives the breath from Hunter’s lungs. But he takes the pain and shoves it deep, turning his grieved anger on Crosshair instead. “So you want her to go. You’re encouraging her.”

“You know that’s not true,” Crosshair bites out, and Hunter can hear the effort his brother puts into controlling his own, retaliating anger. “But it’s not up to us. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have to let go.”

Bruised silence solidifies between them, and Hunter can’t find it in himself to disturb it. He should apologize, should appreciate Crosshair’s attempt at playing the mediator in spite of his own feelings on the matter. Why does Hunter feel at odds with every sibling, no matter where they stand on the issue?

“You’re stronger than I am,” Hunter mutters at last. “Omega can just talk to you about it…but with me, it’s a fight. Why?”

Crosshair sighs. “Because she doesn’t want my blessing, Hunter. She wants yours.”

And the last of Hunter’s brittle, emotional barrier crumbles completely.

END

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[z0mbiew00d]

Life Series Scott is fiercely loyal.

In Third Life, he devotes himself to Jimmy and stays by his side no matter what, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree with his actions (him burning the red banner, etc.)

He makes an alliance with Scar and Grian, and refuses to break it to team up with Cleo even though he loves and trusts her as much if not more than them. However he refuses to hurt Cleo and is loyal to her as well.

He dies stranded and alone anyway.

In Last Life he teams up with Pearl, and immediately is devoted to her. They’re best friends through and through and do everything to keep each other alive. Cleo comes to him asking for shelter and an alliance after she is betrayed, and Scott welcomes her into his home immediately. She dies and becomes red life though before the alliance can be properly sorted, but while she’s a red life Scott doesn’t fear her and still trusts her not to harm him (whereas Pearl runs in fear the moment she spots her, not trusting her despite their previously arranged alliance.)

Cleo joins back in their group once she goes back up to yellow and the three are fiercely loyal to each other until the very end. While fighting Ren he shouts the words “you killed Pearl.” Despite the fact she’s gone and dead, he’s still fighting *for her.*

He wins that season, all he has left of his alliance is Binky but other than that he’s lost his allies and his friends, and he’s alone.

Then comes Double Life, the one season where you’re given a no-choice ally to be loyal to until the end, and Scott understandably is excited and wants to find his soulmate. But they don’t come looking for him. He finds Cleo, and they team up as they search for their soulmates. At the end of the session they meet up with their soulmates, and it’s none other than Pearl, and Martyn.

Pearl who he’d been allied with last season, who he fought to his last breath to avenge. And Martyn, who’d had a hand in his death in the first season.

But Pearl wasn’t loyal, she didn’t come looking for him like he did for his soulmate. So he teams up with Cleo, and is loyal to her and her alone for the entire season. Sure he’s friendly with Martyn and Pearl towards the end, though less so Pearl, but not the unwavering loyalty he has to Cleo.

When it’s just the four of them left, Martyn turns on Pearl and Scott but Scott runs off instead of fighting, because hurting Martyn would mean hurting Cleo and he’s too loyal to do that.

Then Pearl takes out Cleo and Martyn, and what does Scott do? He takes himself out to give his teammate the win, because that’s what he does.

Next we have Limited Life, and it takes Scott a little bit to find a permanent ally but then he teams up with Martyn. Martyn who tríes to kill him in the first episode, Martyn who betrayed him at the end of the last season, Martyn who was part of the final four in Last Life, Martyn who was there as he died in Third Life, letting Ren kill him.

But Scott welcomes him back in the second episode, trusts him completely. All while Martyn is planning to betray him. He lets Martyn have his time on his green life, letting him kill him so the time stays between their pair.

All through Limited Life also, Cleo and Scott are on good terms and are allies.

Martyn betrays him at the end, and Scott is simply happy that his Mean Gill won. The person who he was devoted to and trusted betrayed him and killed him, but he’s happy for him.

And last but not least, we have Secret Life. This time he’s not teamed with any of the Divorce Quartet, he’s made his team with Gem and Impulse, two people he’d never previously allied with. And yet once again he trusts them completely.

When Scott’s tired of being a green life with only one heart, he goes to Martyn. The man he teamed with last season, the man who betrayed him two seasons in a row, and gives himself up to him.

Gem gets the boogeyman curse and warns Scott to stay away, and Scott does as he’s told. When she dies and becomes red, he trusts her not to hurt him. But she does. And after that session, he STILL trusts her. Also during the boogeyman curse apocalypse, he hides Cleo with him up at his, Impulses and Gems base, still loyal to her all the way from the first season.

He gives up his yellow life to her, so she gets the hearts (alongside Impulse). While on red life Gem & The Scott’s and The Mounders team up, finally putting Scott and Pearl on the same team again. But it doesn’t last, his team and Pearls team are the last two standing, and neither of them want to hurt the other but it must be done.

“Do it cowards” comes through the chat, from none other than Cleo. And do it the two teams do, with Joel doing the first hit the two teams are broken apart. Scott is still loyal to Gem and The Scott’s, and still loyal to Cleo.

He gives his life to Gem in an attempt to get her to win, giving her those extra hearts, only for her to be taken out by Scar and Pearl.

No matter what, Scott is fiercely loyal to those he allies with, but also his past allies. Cleo, Martyn, Pearl, even Jimmy (though I didn’t mention him much in this post, I have a whole other ramble post I wanna make about him and Scott at some point). He keeps them in his heart, and is loyal to them until his demise.

[artiststarme]

Sometimes Sorry Isn't Enough

Sometimes Steve wondered how he was still alive. What made him more deserving of life than Barb? He kept putting his life on the line and yet he scraped by with only scars as evidence. He’d fought the demodogs and the mindflayer. He’d thrown Molotov cocktails at Vecna/Henry/One’s face. He’d been prepared to die every single time. So why was he still here?

He wished he’d chosen to jump off the quarry’s cliff when he found out that his parents had left him behind for good. Wished that he hadn’t been too quick for the demodogs to catch in the junkyard. He wished that he’d taken Max’s place in the face of Vecna’s curse. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be around anymore.

He loved his friends, loved Robin and Eddie in particular, but it wasn’t enough. Robin had better things to do than deal with his trauma that he’d roped her into without her consent. If it weren’t for him being so desperate and needy for attention, she would never have been involved with the Upside Down. She wouldn’t have been psychologically tortured by the Russians or exposed to the Hell that existed beneath them. She’d be better off without him.

And Eddie. Poor Eddie didn’t deserve any of this either. He was simply the town’s scapegoat that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and now his life was forever changed because of it. His body was marred in scars where the bats mauled him, eerily similar to the ones that existed in Steve’s flesh. Steve should’ve done more to protect him instead of forcing him to play decoy and then his friend afterwards.

Instead of forcing his problems on the Party once again, Steve stewed by himself in his empty crypt of a home. The house was dark, the air was cold, and his heart was heavy. He poured pain pills, originally prescribed to deal with his horrific migraines, into his hands and took a deep breath. Unlike all those other times, he wouldn’t escape death again. As he swallowed pill after pill, his heart sank deeper. It was better this way.

He was unconscious by the time Robin arrived, a feeling of proud terror driving her away from her family dinner and to Steve’s side. He was unconscious when Eddie gave him CPR and mouth to mouth, imagining their first kiss would be much different than it actually was. He was on the verge of life and death by the time Hopper speedily pulled into his driveway and threw him in the ranger before the ambulance could even arrive to take him to the hospital, begging him the entire way to open his eyes.

When he woke up to hospital smells and bright lights, he initially felt disappointed. He’d failed once again to leave the wretched world that never seemed to want him. But when he looked around, he felt a spark of hope in his chest. Hopper, Eleven, Robin, Eddie, and Dustin were in various chairs and cots scattered throughout the room. Eddie was curled into a ball by his feet on the bed while Robin was pressed against his side, her head on his chest as if she was waiting subconsciously to hear each beat of his heart. Hopper was sat in a chair by his bedside, his fingers loosely gripping the bed frame. Eleven was on the window’s ledge, her brow furrowed like the world was on her shoulders still. And Dustin. He was on a cot right beside Steve’s bed, his body facing him and his hand wrapped around his wrist.

Steve felt guilt flood him. He always felt like he was surviving on luck alone, deserving to die and never quite doing so. He didn’t realize that he was surviving off the love of his friends, his family, and that they were doing the same. It would take awhile to change his way of thinking and for him to start appreciating the life he had but he would get there eventually. Especially with his best friend, his boyfriend, his little brother and sister, and Hopper by his side.

[writersblockiskillingme]

District 7 | Johanna Mason

Pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader (victor!reader)

Summary: Johanna and you seek some peace in District 7 after the rebellion.

Waning/s: angst and fluff, nightmares, talks about the games, tears, panic, curse words?, talks about Johanna's torture, rebellion, war, weapons (Johanna's ax), short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I agree with you, dear anon. Lumberjack!johanna has me like 🙇‍♀️🧎‍♀️🤰 Also, I tried my best, hope you enjoy!

Request -> Hi :) Can I request a Johanna x fem!reader that takes place after all the events of the mockingjay? The reader is also a victor of her games and is now living in district 7 with Johanna. I want to see what their life is like after the games and rebellion. What they’re like taking care of each other after nightmares and triggering situations. Also because happy times good, what is domestic life like for them now (Like lumberjack!johanna oof 😮‍💨). Give me all the angst, all the sadness, all the domestic feels, and all the fluff!

You felt like the war will truly never end. It was suffocating from the very start. Especially during the quarter quell and after. Since the moment Katniss shot that arrow into the whole of the force field that destroyed the arena and the power knocked you unconscious, you had a bad feeling. The moment you woke up and Finnick told you that the Capitol captured Johanna and Peeta you felt like you couldn't breathe.

The physical and mental torture that your lover had suffered during her time in the Capitol undet Snow's clutches and the mental torture that you had to fight with in the safety of District 13 didn't make your time there any earlier.

You were quite literally lost without her by your side. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day that you spent worrying about her, whether she was being killed, whether she was in unbearable pain, whether she was even alive made your head spin from just remembering it. But the moment that Johanna was back in your eyes everything felt so much easier. Since she was finally rescheduled, for the first time ever, you felt like you could actually make it through this rebellion. But you didn't allow yourself to be filled with hope too much, yet.

At Snow's execution you were quite literally freezing while standing between Johanna and Haymitch, your eyes never leaving Snow that was placed a few feet in front of you as you tried to pull your jacket a little bit tighter around your body.

The air was still thick with loss caused by the death of Johanna's and yours mutual friend Finnick and every other person that you have lost throughout the many years of Snow's tortures ruling of the Panem.

Shock ruled over your entire body as you watched Katniss fire the arrow that nested itself inside of Coin's heart. As she fell down, people all around you stepped forward to kill Snow. Both of the rulers were dead. At last there will be peace in the whole Panem.

The peace that you decided to chase with the love of your life. Her hand tightly placed into yours as you said your goodbyes to the rest of the poor, tortured souls that somehow survived against all odds.

The first step onto the train that would send you both to District 7 felt like freedom. The silent breeze that cherished your cheeks and hair as you walked towards Johanna's house, hand in hand with her, the smell of the lumber in the air was a sign that you could perhaps find peace with the one you fought so hard for.

District 7 was good for you. It was different from your old home, for sure, but it was a good change. A change that your hears, soul and your spirit in general needed to live. During the day, when your therapists didn't visit or when you didn't have to visit them in the Capitol, Johanna and you would take calming strolls along the woods of her District, the smell of lumber became familiar. A sent without which you would probably, quite literally die, felt like peace. The word that both Johanna and you continued to chase endlessly.

But it wasn't easy.

The nightmares were overwhelming most of the time. Both of you would wake up in a cold sweat, practically screaming yourselves awake. Tears and panic was endless, but the presence of each other brought a great comfort to both of you.

One time you were laying in Johanna's and yours bed, molded into the sheets and pillows that were practically drowning you, hiding you from the world, as you tried to chase the sleep that you didn't get last night because of Johanna's nightmare. It didn't matter, though. As long as she was safe nothing else to you mattered. Just as you fell asleep, the nightmares from your own games started to drag you in.

The cold sweat covered your skin as you screamed yourself awake. Your breathing was heavy, you couldn't control it. Your hand reached over to Johanna's side of the bed feeling the cold grace your fingertips and you felt like someone spilled a bucket of freezing cold water over your head.

"Johanna!" A scream broke free from your throat as you dashed out of the bed in a lightning speed, trying to reach the door of the house to go outside.

You were forcefully put into a panicked frenzy as you practically broke down the door of the house, your head turning around in every possible direction. You were trying to find her.

And there she was. An ax in the hand, standing a few feet away from the house as she chopped the wood, the pile of lumber growing bigger and bigger with each swing. Her arms flexing as she was lightly covered in sweat from the hard work. Her eyebrows frowned in concentration. Her gorgeous pair of crystals looked at you in confusion and light concern as she watched your panicked expression.

"You good, dummy?" She asked you as she struck her ax into the wood before whipping away the sweat that glued her freshly grown bangs against her forehead.

"I just..." You sighed in relief once again as you watched her. "I just had a nightmare and you weren't there when I woke up, but it's okay."

Johanna quickly brought you into her arms, wrapping you up in their safety as she whispered sweet nothings into your ear in a desperate attempt to calm you down.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm okay."

"You're okay." You breathed out once more following her lead.

She separated herself from you for a moment before she brought you in for a delicate kiss that was oh so her.

"We're okay. We will be." She whispered against your lips, her arms never leaving once she wrapped them around your neck.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@caroline-books @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[hoe4rairai]

Continuing with the scenarios between Raian and S/O ...

《 ♤ Let's goooo ♤ 》

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ Scenario 2 😈Raian teaches his S/O a simple kure technique, but she fails every time UNTILL...😈

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Fast forward five years into their relationship. Now that everyone knows who she is and Raian made it clear, she is his property so everyone knew their limits & boundries with her.

S/O, isn't weak, she has been a martial artist for years but she might've been rusty since she never practiced any martial arts after her graduation and never in her life has she ever been engaged in fights like her boyfriend.

He was lying on the couch as usual lazy and naked in all his glory, just covering his lower body with a thin velvety cover. He is resting on his arm to the side. Their cat found its comfort spot next to him, while Raian mindlessly petted it gently while watching his favourite TV show. He is usually at home all evening after spending his entire day working out,training and visiting his personal business manager if there are any new hits to discuss and checking his assets and personal investments.

The devil came out to play when a devilish smirk formed on his face out of nowhere. He sensed her presence a few moments before she actually turned the house keys on. Assassin behaviour, alright... ! Hearing and sensing always heightened and sharp anytime, anywhere. This evening, he decides to make her his target, so it's unfair for her, though.

In a split of a second, just like a lightning strike, that was how fast he was. He jumped behind the door, switching all the lights from the main switchboard. He wanted to see for himself how she would react in protecting herself.

S/O knew his schedule. If he wasn't hunting humans, he would be home by now. She opened the house door, and everything was dark, unusually quiet and dark. Raian is usually home at the time. For some reason, the hairs at the back of her neck stood. She felt something was off. There was a presence of something, but she couldn't see any shadows. She quickly scanned the entrance of the house, not taking any further step inside. She then quickly with a panicking hand fetched for her mobile to call Raian but she was so predicable that her Boyfriend knew her moves all of them and in a very quick motion a hand reached to her wrist rough enough, she gasped while it pulled her roughly inside the house, the hand then covered her mouth in a criminal manner.

She dropped her phone , her mind froze, trying to remember her self-defense moves, and quickly move her body instinctively in an attack postion, but all her attempts failed.

She heard a click behind her and a cold yet sarcastic laugh while the lights come back on, and she was pushed away , Raian in a cold tone voice said : ( useless weakling...Cox could've fought better than you) Cox is the cat's name btw !!!!

He was disappointed and went straight to the bedroom without looking her way. She stood there shaking, angry, losing her grip, WDF just happened.

She rushed into the bedroom, and all she knew was she was flying literally across the roam, landing a flying kick on him, and to Raian's surprise, that was a decent kick but a childsplay for him.

Nice he thought, okay there is a zest in her still, he came close , she pushed him away still very angry, he didn't comfort her, Raian liked her anger it's a good drive to kick some ass but not his ass , she wouldn't even dare, no one would .

The night went on, not talking to each other, S/O didn't eat dinner, Raian went jogging. Now all she has is doubts and confusion, why he did what he did... ?

He came back, she was asleep on the couch not in bed, he smirked and pushed her roughly, it was 4 am when she opened her eyes, his face was not readable, dark eyes staring at her , head slightly tilted at her when he said : You r coming with me , wear ur gym gear OUT IN 5 ... !!

The confusion since the night before and the undoubtful fear in her heart of this unpredictable man exceeded , she asked him in a low steady voice, hiding her restlessness. Why ?

Raian : your rusty ass, my Bitch should at least protect herself, I am not around you all the time, or do you want to be a cheap easy meat to kill?? the last sentence he said while lowering his face to align with her's with the most cold gaze she ever seen in their past 5 years, was enough to sent shivers down her spin . She thought to herself This is fucking crazy ...

.. .. ... No you Fucking idiot, its called Mountain breaker .. Raian voice was snarling out of annoyance . He showed his S/O the technique few times. She kept missing up the form. Been a week and no progress yet. S/O strength is improving, muscle memories helping her to gain strength but the kure technique itself was kind of complicated for her to perfect.

Raian had a mission,but before he left, he took his S/O the night before his mission to a nearby, empty spot at the lakeside surrounded by thick trees. He ordered her to hit him using the technique, she did once, twice, 6 times , she was running out of breath but He did not even budge an inch, hand went resting on his waist whild watching her loosing not only her breath but her patience. Raian stood there low shameless voice : What a fucking usless shit. Kids 6 years old can kick your ass with this technique, he moved closer to her pushing her backwards with hid body, she hates his demeaning snobbish behaviour, that's her boyfriend who is doing this shit to her, though she understands his motive but he is a shitty mentor.

He kept talking down at her while still pushing with her with his body till she tripped and fell off. That was it, she thought .. she looked up at him , furious her gaze changed notoriously, she jumped on her feet took few steps back still within his range and rammed him with the mountain breaker, to his surprise made him move backwards. He laughed gleefully, ordering her AGAIN ... she does it again. He orders her again louder AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN ...

Raian's slightly bruised chest, S/O almost paralysed hands and soar torso ... they kept the practice almost all night. She only felt weak after all her adrenaline subsided and fell weakly into her boyfriend's arms.

He caught her, gently whispered to her, well done .. keep it up while kissing her forehead quickly before she registered this soft side of Raian. He picked her up gently, walking back home, and had a long relaxing bath together. She was completely out of it but noticed how Raian gently massaged her body quietly.

Moments like this worth it all, she thought with a soft smile on her pretty face, he lowered his head to kiss that smile. Raian understands how rough he was with her but if she was to be attacked He wants her to destroy the attacker, no harm should ever come her way or all hell will break lose and no one will be safe from him.

Fast forward , a year passed and safe to say S/O has perfected few more techniques, but on her dead body, if her Bf would ever train her again.. Nope..

**arts belong to their right owners

[nctstar]

the day that i met you i started dreaming.

You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.”

pairing: jungwoo x fem!reader

other members: johnny, mark (+his brother), haechan (only mentioned)

word count: 3k

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: lots of kissing, one small smutty scene, not very graphic (penetration and kissing only), profanity (one use of the f word, shit)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I don't know the nct members (including their family members!) and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. Also, even though I was inspired by mark's real life doesn't mean this is accurate at all, please keep that in mind nobody sue me please.

a/n: this is for my bestie @neocty because I love her and there aren't enough jungwoo fics out there and she is struggling, so I did what any good friend would do <3 so everyone else please look away (and by that I mean like and reblog and send me requests)

You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.”

∞

You had first met Jungwoo in your first year of university. Surrounded by girls, one of them having their entire torso turned towards him like she was ready to mount at any moment. Giggles floated past you as you walked by, books slipping in your arms from the sweat on your skin. The edges dug uncomfortably into your side as you tried hoisting them from side to side, trying to find that sweet spot that wouldn’t make you want to throw all of them only the floor, give up and go home.

“Hey.” You hadn’t heard it at first, too busy untangling your arms. But it suddenly felt silent, too silent now, the giggles now gone. You looked up, and the first thing you noticed was also the first thing you said.

“We have the same headphones.” Your voice was monotone, your breath heating up your cheeks underneath your mask.

He frowned, and the second thing you noticed was-

“I like whatever you’re wearing on your l-lips.” He stammered towards the end, probably now understanding how strange that sounded. But if he was embarrassed, he didn’t let on. His face erupted in a confident, self-assured smile, one hand effortlessly running through his dusty brown hair. His face was cute, like a puppy, or a fluffy cat. Soft features, smile lines and shallow dimples on one side of his face. “I’m not hitting on you. My sister runs a small business and sells makeup. I’m trying to get girls to buy her stuff. She’s saving up for a car because she hates public transport. I, personally, don’t mind it. Anyway. Um, you want a flyer?” Paper shuffled in his hands as you realised that he was handing out flyers, not what you had originally thought when you saw all those girls around him.

You fought the urge to say aww as you took a flyer tentatively. You didn’t wear makeup other than yes, your lipgloss, the same one you had brought from your home country since you didn’t really have time to shop in Korea in the few days you had been here already. Your eyes started scanning up and down the flyer while your mind pondered, who still uses flyers to advertise nowadays?

You shuffled from foot to foot, aware that he was still standing in front of you for some reason. “Your sister seems really talented.”

“She is. She also, looks a lot like me.” Jungwoo proceeded to shove the remaining flyers under his armpit, other hand flipping out his phone. In your peripheral vision, you watched one girl side eye you, hard, very possibly the one who had wanted to mount him a minute ago. “Oh, that’s okay, um- oh wow!” Your eyes widened. “You guys look so alike!”

“Right?” Strangers standing musing for more than a minute was odd enough, but what he did next was even weirder.

“The flyer I gave you has my number on it, by the way.”

You looked at his face, soft brown eyes full of hope that made your heart twinge slightly with delight. He was so adorable.

“What happened to ‘I’m not hitting on you’?”

“I’m really not? It’s because my sister lost her phone, and,” he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “I want to help her earn money as soon as possible. Because if I don’t-“

He grabbed both your arms, making you flinch a little in surprise, but not pull away, eyebrows perked at his words.

“-she’s going to make me drive her to uni every day! Do you want that for me?” He whisper-shouted this last bit, and you shrugged his arms off.

“I don’t even know your name, so…”

“Kim Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Are you from America?”

“How could you tell?” You smiled, the English rolling off your tongue with ease. “I’m actually technically from Canada. Born and raised. Lived in New York for a while, so…close enough, I guess.”

“Oh! So is my roommate! His brother is auditioning for SM tomorrow, and he needs me to drive them both there-“

You laughed, this time your head naturally rocking back. “Are you the campus free uber or something, Kim Jungwoo?”

“No, he’s dating my sister. Mark’s brother, not him. Hey!” He pointed one finger out, almost comically, like a cartoon character. “You should date Mark.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re both from Canada. It just makes sense. He gets lonely sometimes. I think it’ll be good. Will you come with me?” He talked with the speed of someone on drugs, but with none of the fatigue or lack of lust for life. In fact, he was what you would expect if you asked anyone in the world to picture someone bright and cheery.

You told yourself that was the only reason you said yes that day. Never could you have known how far your relationship would end up growing. Like the first seeds someone carelessly tosses to the dirt in the cold season, another person notices and starts to water here and then, it was only a matter of time before something bloomed come summer.

∞

“We’re going to be late.”

“Oh, relax.” Jungwoo scoffed, but you eyed his nervous hands, shaking and fumbling with everything, from the gear stick to the AC controls. Behind you, Mark’s voice called out. “Did you want me to-“

“No, Mark. It’s fine.” You shared a knowing glance with the Canadian boy in the back seat, and Jungwoo noticed. He coughed, smiling like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “Shut up.” You hissed. He giggled louder, now catching the attention of Mark’s brother behind the driver’s seat, his eyes warily leaving his phone for only a second or two. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwoo finally pulls back the gear shift, that engine now grumbling to life. “I just think _ is too nice and pretty to not have a date for Christmas.” Puppy dog eyes now on you, shirt hanging loosely on his body, he turned and tapped you on the chin playfully. You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Oh my god. Tell me why I even started talking to you that day?”

“You said you reminded me of a puppy.” He pouted, making a tiny, perhaps insignificant part of you beam with something warmer, deeper that just friendship. For the past month, Jungwoo and you had been on a casual texting basis. If by casual, you meant every day, multiple times a day. Turns out you both just had a lot to talk about, or were drawn to each other, or…well, you didn’t want to think about it too much. All you knew is that for the first time since you had arrived here, or honestly, in your entire life, you felt like yourself. And that was enough for you. More than enough.

Now here you guys were, talking about dates for Christmas.

“Can we go, guys? Seriously.” You nodded aggressively and swatted at Jungwoo to start the car, while Mark leaned over, tapping you on the shoulder. Your body swayed as Jungwoo started driving as if he hadn’t driven in ten years. “Jungwoo told me your lips are pretty.”

“Uhm, excuse me!” Jungwoo braked hard at the lights, making the two men in the backseat yelp, Mark now flown back with a resounding dull thump. “Oh my god. Forget making it on time. I’m not sure we’ll make it there alive.” Concerned murmurs filled the car, but Jungwoo kept his foot on the accelerator, pushing through. “Oh relax, guys. And also, you agreed with me, Mark!”

“Well,” You pressed your head against the seat, hoping to avoid a future concussion. “I am wearing Min-ah’s lipgloss, so, it’s all thanks to her.” You shared a smile with Jungwoo, him glancing at you for far too long for someone on a busy road. Mark’s brother raised his arm in frustration. “Jungwoo! Please. I want to be an idol, I want to live!” A loud honk kick-started the car again, narrowly missing the lights changing from yellow to red at the busy intersection.

“Oh, Jin-hyung! That means you could probably advertise the glosses, right?” He slunk back into his seat, muttering something like they’re both mad. “Well, like, after you pass, of course.”

“I’m not sure I will.” Everyone in the car started overlapping with words of affirmations and enthusiastic praises, even yourself. “You’re so great! And you’ve practiced, what, like ten times? And that’s just in front of us.”

“Yeah, Hyung.” Mark’s hands patted Jin-hyung’s knee. “You’re the best singer I know.”

Jin-hyung turned to face Mark swiftly. “Can you come in with me?”

“Um, wait-“

“Please? I’m gonna shit myself if I go in alone. Please?”

Jungwoo leant in towards you, and you immediately placed one hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Easy, tiger. You know you have to stay in your seat to drive, right?”

His eyes not leaving the road, he asked, “What are they talking about?”

“Jin-hyung’s asking Mark if he can come in with him. I’m not sure if that’s allowed…” You trailed off, watching the building tower over you, drizzles of rain prickling the wide front window. “Wow. Is this it?”

Jungwoo nodded, his attention now on the brothers in the back seat as he tried to park the car. The atmosphere was noticeably intense now, and you also weren’t sure how to react. He coughed. “We’re here. You guys alright?”

“No. Shit, I can’t do it. I can’t.” Jin-hyung’s face was one of pure terror, face pale and clammy, pit stains now forming on his shirt despite the cold blasts of air from the AC. You and Jungwoo shared a glance, the first one that wasn’t silly, rolling your eyes or smirking. “Well, a-are you sure?”

He was quiet, and you noticed light reflecting off the rearview mirror, Mark looking down and biting his lip, face marked with intense concentration. The tension in the car was suddenly thick, like the way a bread knife runs through a block of cold butter, and you swallowed. Finally, Mark spoke. “Okay, Hyung. I’ll come in with you.”

You watched as Jin-young’s chest retreated as he breathed a sigh of relief, cheeks still flushed and red. He tried not to let this relief show, but his voice cracked as he spoke softly. “Thanks, Min-hyung.”

After the two left the car, it was just you and Jungwoo. And, for the first time since you guys had met, it was quiet, maybe even a little awkward. Your hands flew towards the controls of the car, trying to fill the time, only to be met with Jungwoo’s skin on the back of his hand. Wow, he felt so soft. “Oh, sorry. Do you listen to music? I mean, should we?” Retreating your hand slowly, you let your eyes travel to his face.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You didn’t even register, even as you replied. He looked equally as shocked, staring back at you blankly as if someone else had said what he had said. He let one arm slump over the back of his seat, and your heart starting pounding, your throat clammy. “Jungwoo…”

“I don’t know why I said that, sorry.”

“Wait, do you…But you wanted…me and Mark…”

“I know!” He brought both his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes so hard until it felt like you were seeing stars. “I know. That was so stupid. I can’t believe that just happened.”

You were silent, your emotions rattling inside you noisily, threatening to blow your cover. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, until you stared at his doe eyes, his cheeks now flushed pink with embarrassment. You leaned over, closing your eyes at one point before your lips met, soft, plush, a mix of his morning Americano and the strawberry lipbalm from Min-ah. Pulling away, you were met with the tiny intricacies of his face, his scent, the feeling of his shirt under your palm. The cologne he was wearing tickled your sinuses. Normally you hated that smell, but today…

“Was that okay?” His breath caressed the thin skin on your face, and you nodded almost involuntarily. “Your cologne is a bit strong for me, though.”

“My what?”

“Sorry.” You had no idea why you were so unfiltered with him, thoughts running free from the confines of your brain and into the air. “It’s just…men’s cologne makes me sneeze.”

“Oh baby, you are so cute.” His voice deepened and it felt like someone just released a dozen hungry butterflies loose in your stomach, beautiful and urgent. He chuckled, pressing a kiss now to the sides of your lips. “You’re cute when you blush. So cute.”

The sound of the car door opening made you both jump, both pulling away in the process, backs now snug against your own seats. “How did it-“ you started.

“Min-hyung is going to be an idol!” Jin-hyung’s face was sweaty and warm, his eyes puffy and red possibly from crying, but he wore an unapologetic smile on his face, like this was what he wanted all along, and the relief was simply euphoric.

∞

You pulled your hand away from inside his, trying to rid the clammy feeling off your palms. “What’s wrong?”

“Just nervous.” Jungwoo towered over you, wearing one of those denim fleece jackets you loved so much over a white t-shirt you had gifted him 2 weeks ago. “You look so yummy in white, Woo.” You wanted to cringe at that your own voice reverberating through your skull, but you felt warm and nice instead, like you had just sipped hot chocolate in this freezing weather. He knocked his ankle against yours, playfully pushing you to the side, only to drag you back with his arm looped around yours. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“Okay.” You nodded, but anxiety still stirred inside you, making you sick. “Plus, we can always leave if you want.”

“_! Jungwoo-hyung!” Mark looked small in his oversized puffer jacket, waving one arm over his head enthusiastically. Beside him was Johnny Suh, a trainee friend of Mark’s from Chicago, master of sarcasm and dad jokes. Walking up towards the two men, Jungwoo’s arms slipped away from yours, and you playfully patted Johnny on the arm. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Wait, are you and Jungwoo a thing now?” You half-smiled, shivering against the blast of cold air that pierced through your stockings. You felt warmth spreading on the small of your back, and Jungwoo’s voice behind you. “Yeah, man.”

“I got him that.” You pointed at Jungwoo’s shirt, and he pulled you closer to your side, squeezing your hip firmly. “Yeah. So you can stop flirting with her now.”

“Damn, so you went out with her only to stop me from flirting? Red flag.” He raised his eyebrows comically, and you laughed, but Jungwoo didn’t seem very amused, not to you. He smiled and nodded, but you immediately knew he was uncomfortable. His lips were pale but plump, and you fought the urge to kiss him, biting your own bottom lip in reflex.

When you went inside, you wriggled your shoulders, shaking off your coat. “Hey, baby, you okay? You’re not jealous, are you?” Your tone was teasing, but you watched him carefully, at the way he avoided eye contact with you as he searched for an empty space on the coat rack. “I’m fine.” He muttered, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a giggle. Probably your toxic trait but he was so cute when he was sulky and pouty that you didn’t know how anyone took him seriously. “Woo, please. Don’t lie.”

“Okay!” He still wasn’t looking at you, smiling and nodding at passersby’s as he spoke. “I don’t care that he flirts with you, I really don’t, I really really…”

“Yes, you do.” You rested your weight on one hip, crossing your arms across your chest to look up at him.

“No, I don’t! I trust you.” The warm flame you had burning inside you erupted, replacing that tiny flame of anxiety, filling you with a sense of security, of love. I trust you.

“But you said I’m the funniest man you met, yet you keep laughing at his jokes.”

It was your turn laugh noisily in response, so much so that Mark noticed and joined in from afar, probably already a little tipsy and sharing random anecdotes from his life that no one asked for. You brushed snow off your boyfriend’s shoulders, watching as his nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Cute. You’re so cute.”

“Well, I know that, but am I funny? I don’t care if your exes were hot or whatever, but funny?”

“First of all, you know you’re my first serious relationship. And secondly, Johnny’s humour is different. It’s more flirty, on the spot. You, well, you’re awkward and cute funny, you know? Plus,” you leaned in, intentionally letting the lipgloss on your lips smudge on his sensitive skin behind his ear, “you’re the only one I wanna kiss so bad right now.”

“WOAH! Get a room, you too!” You pulled away, noticing that the red on his cheeks were deeper, spreading all over his face. His eyes stared back at you almost blankly, and you pecked his cheek. “After this, okay? You can have all of me.”

∞

Chest heaving, you shut your eyes, wanting to savour every moment that had passed. Your bare skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, legs tangled in his. You felt him brush up against your neck, his voice vibrating in your ears. “Was that okay?” He asked as if he already knew the answer, pressing his bare body closer to you. You answered by bringing your face closer to his, and he sighed. “You taste like watermelon today. Lemon yesterday, and then strawberry on Tuesday.”

“Jungwoo, this isn’t what I wanted you to say after we had sex for the first time.”

“Sorry.” His eyes were flickering shut. “But you taste really good. Like, everywhere.”

“That’s so cute and kind of nasty too.” You scrunched your nose, and he chuckled. You hiked one leg above his thigh, needing him again. “Can I?”

He kissed you, sucking your lips, making you moan audibly and the tension in your body release as you sunk down on his length. “O-oh.” You whimpered as he began to thrust slowly into you, pressing your hips tight against his. “Fuck, yes.”

Your boobs against his bare chest, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, you kissed him deeply, not wanting to lose contact. He groaned, thrusts getting sloppier as you felt yourself reach your own high for the second time.

∞

Your butt was getting sore from sitting on the hard surface of the stairs for hours, but you didn’t care. You watched him hang out with his friends, making them laugh so hard you could hear them from metres away. You held the envelope tight in your shaky hands, suddenly nervous. What if he didn’t like it?

“Hey, _.” The stairs creaked as you looked up, watching Johnny’s figure shrouded by the faded light of dusk. You shuffled over as he sat next to you, resting his arms over his knees. He looked tired, only hints of his sarcastic self shining through here and there. “You here to see the missus?”

“Johnny.” You rolled your eyes, but your stomach churned as you realised his eyes were on the envelope in his hands. You snatched it away to hide under your jacket, but it was obviously too late. “What’s that? Is that for him?”

“Yeah.” You had no idea where this self-consciousness suddenly was coming from. You were so proud of it, even this morning as you were driving here. Johnny was silent, matching you as you both sat, letting the distant sounds of the boys yelling fill the space between you for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.

“He loves you.” You swallowed, suddenly feeling tears well up in your eyes. When was the last time anyone had loved you like that? “So don’t worry. He’ll like it.” He patted your shoulder, and with a few thundering steps, he was gone.

As you stood in front of Jungwoo again, the same nervousness brewing in your stomach, you tried to remember those words.

“What? Who loves me? What guy?” Jungwoo looked confused, genuinely frowning and holding your hands in his. You furrowed your eyebrows, slowly coming out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You just said, ‘he loves you’.”

“Oh, oh…I said that out loud?” You removed one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I, had this entire monologue prepared, but, um, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Why?” He caressed your face, and you heard some ooos  and cheers come from the right of you. Jungwoo rolled his eyes. “Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t-“

You watched Haechan give you both over-enthusiastic thumbs up with his hands, and Jungwoo gently guided you off the stage, his hand flush on the small of your back. “Just relax, baby. It’s just me. You’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head just as you whipped out the envelope and thrust it sideways. Your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest, under all the layers you were wearing. You blurted out. “I kissed the pages. I kissed them after putting on the lip balms and glosses and lipsticks I wore when I kissed you and you told me I tasted good. I know! That’s the kind of thing that sounds cute in theory, but absolutely psychotic in real life. And I just-“

Jungwoo shut you up with a kiss, the envelope grazing your side as he held you tight with his other arm. Goosebumps ran up your limbs, despite all your layers. Pulling away, he rubbed his nose against yours, making you break out in a smile, despite how corny it was. “You’re probably thinking about how corny this all is. But I love it. I love this. And I love you.”

[yaut-jaknowit]

Peace Was Never An Option

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3234

Summary: Sometimes in life, you have to grab your problems by the balls and manhandle them. We'ar-ow challenges Dwainet to a battle to the death this time. Winner takes all. This changes everything. You beg for her to change her mind. You couldn't believe what she was saying!

Author Note: It's growing tense in here! Whatever shall happen? You have to pray to Paya for this to work out in your favor.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

We’ar-ow holds you in her lap, face to face with the alien. Her towering size dwarfed yours. Both of your hands rest on her chest while you peered up at her. Fear and concern etched into your features.

The last week has been tense. You only learn there are more. More that think like Dwainet. Who want to take down We’ar-ow for good. Kill her. Get rid of their Monarch. Your… Those thoughts trailed off before they could finish. Your hands twitched, hesitant before following through their own mind. They cupped the bottom jaw of We’ar-ow.

Her mandibles twitched, scaring you off. But her hands instantly pressed them back to her skin. We’ar-ow leaned forward and bumped her forehead against yours. Then, her eyes drifted shut, holding you to her. Timidly, you followed her lead, eyes on the verge closing before flicking open. But We’ar-ow kept her gaze closed. You relaxed against her, muscles going lax in her lap.

One of her hands left yours and found its way wrapped around your throat. A long time ago, you would’ve fought and scream your terror. Now, you trusted her, you let her have her fun. Her long fingers encased the entirety of your throat, yet never going far enough to squeeze. Just a hold, to let you know it’s there. You kept your eyes closed the entire time.

“I have you,” she whispered softly into the tender air and rubbed her pressed forward more against yours. Your fingers tensed, nails nearly desperate to dig into her thick scales. Instead, you refrained from pushing any boundaries.

Your breath stuttered in your chest. You about twisted away from her, heart beginning to race for two different reasons. Fear is at the center of all your problems. It’s an all consuming terror that fills your very being. Your nails finally press into the softer flesh of her mandibles. The Yautja doesn’t act indifferently.

“I feel like this war is my fault,” you admit to the silence in the air, eyes refusing to open and face the day. Deep down, you knew your words would anger the giant who has shielded you from the cruelness that makes up her species. The reasoning isn’t clear to you though. Despite her claim over you, you still don’t know why she does all this. Getting rid of you would be the best option.

We’ar-ow stiffened under you, even her hand tightened; thumb and middle finger pressing firmly against the arteries on the sides of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat. The Yautja pulled her head away from yours and used her thumb to force your chin up. Yet, your eyes were still closed.

A growl vibrated across We’ar-ow’s pink skin. Her mandibles clack against one another. “You dare blame yourself for the mess that scum caused,” she seethed and tugged your forward into her space. The heat from her gaze strong. “Look at me, ooman.” When you refused to listen to her command, she tightened slightly. “Open your goddamn eyes.” The words weren’t loud but the order was laid upon you thickly.

Slowly, you peeled your eyes open and find her blazing gaze upon yours. Almost instantly, you would’ve closed them if she didn’t growl deeply in warning.

“You still don’t understand,” We’ar-ow stated rather than questioned. A true fact by her means. Your brows furrowed while you looked upon the Yautja. As your mouth dropped to speak, We’ar-ow used her thumb to pin your jaw shut. “No, you do not get to speak. You get to listen.”

Despite your mouth being forcefully shut, you made a weak confused noise and tried to jerk out of her hold. It was stupid to think you could escape from her hold at all.

“How many times must I state this: you are my ooman. I have laid my claim upon you. No other Yautja from any clan can refute this. I’d kill anyone who dare even try.” The only hand cupping the back of yours finally slipped away only to circle around the back of your waste. You huffed this time and glared at her, face scrunched up.

The hard, stoic façade crumbled away at your expression. She sighed and let her head rolled forward, almost bumping against yours. “Trust my words, little one. No one can take you away from me.” We’ar-ow picked up her head and let her hold on your throat fall away.

When the silence engulfed the two of you once more, your hands dropped from her jaw to your lap. Nervously, you picked at the sew line on your clothing. The memory not far in your mind at the reminder on how these clothes came to be. You should’ve realize back then a Yautja would not beat around the bush. Nakedness is part of their culture. There is nothing to hide or be ashamed of while bare.

Your head bowed on its own accord as thoughts ran wild. This isn’t the life you signed up for. The dangers that threatened you not only every day but every waking and sleeping moment were forever present. Dwainet was still alive with his following. Him and some others wanted overthrow We’ar-ow from her throne.

At this point, there was no turning, no running away from this life. You’ve been roped far too deep. There is no escape. We’ar-ow knew from the beginning. Any attempt would’ve been crushed and eliminated.

But, We’ar-ow’s not mad, not angry at your research, your want to escape. Instead, it seemed like she was impressed. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. As she’s made clear, you are hers.

Dwainet’s presence still lingers terrifyingly over your head. A nuance who won’t leave you alone. That’s all you’ve wanted from him: to be left alone. Why won’t he? He’s made it abundantly clear he does not want you. You were his toy that he grew bored with and discarded with little care. Now, you sit upon his Monarch’s lap, your own throne in a way.

A little thing such as yourself, with more power than any other Yautja on this ship besides We’ar-ow herself. Oh, how you’ve grown.

There was only one thing standing in your way of an enjoyable life. “How are you going to deal with Dwainet?” Dwainet. Dwainet, the only one who dared to step up to We’ar-ow and get into her way. The only one who somehow had the balls to think he could beat her. Who lost their pet to the one person who he can’t defeat alone. He’ll need an army to take down the beast that We’ar-ow is.

We’ar-ow leveled her gaze with yours. “The only way he’ll go down: a challenge.”

Your face flickered with confusion and concern. A challenge. What does she mean by that? “What do you mean you’re going to challenge him?” That doesn’t seem like it would do much to quell this. “Look where it got us in the first place. You bested him before and he still held his head high.” The male still thinks himself as great even after losing to We’ar-ow for sticking up against her.

The arm snared around your waist tugged you closer to her, pulling you flush to her torso. You gasped and placed your hands on her chest. The muscles may not be visible but they would be felt against your own stomach. “His head will be hung high, above our bed,” she promised with a snarl, arm tightening. “A reminder forever, no one comes between me and my ooman.”

She leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do you understand?” the pink Yautja whispered into your ear. You whimpered weakly, body tense and unsure the next course of action. She purposefully growled, holding her head in the same position as before. “Do you?”

You didn’t dare trust your voice carry what you needed answer with. Instead, you only nodded and gnawed on your bottom lip. There was a whole lot wrong with you. And that wasn’t even scratching the surface.

“Good.” She squeezed you against her one last time before sliding you off of her lap into a standing position. Even standing, you didn’t reach the top of her head. We’ar-ow stood to her full height, towering over your form. “Now, get dressed into clothing you deemed worthy for a meeting with an important figure.”

Well, that was ominous.

Curiosity killed the cat. You moved around her quarters, growing quite familiar with the space and the one who owns it. Her room itself was spacious as you grabbed the necessary clothes and slipped into them. They fit perfectly, not a single thing is wrong with them. Fuck you, Rauch but thank you for the perfect clothing. Prejudice ass.

Once finished, you stepped out from her room to find her waiting for you at the front door. Her eyes scanned from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You nearly felt subconscious until her gaze left. She motioned with the universal sign to follow her. You trotted across the expansive living space and joined at her side.

Before entering the hallway, We’ar-ow reached down and gently encased your hand with hers. You threaded your fingers through hers the best you could do. She gave a gentle squeeze before the two you began the trek to wherever she led you.

From the main level of the ship, you were taken to the deepest part of the ship. Far from the engines and cargo bay, was a dark corner of the ship that rarely had anyone. Besides the three four massive females who stood guard, adorned in armor meant for protection rather than looks. You glanced up at We’ar-ow for a fleeting moment in question, but she kept her gaze forward.

The guards side stepped their Monarch and allowed her entrance to this corner of the ship forgotten. The door slid open to reveal a room lined with glowing bars. Cells. This is a brig.

Your heart slammed into the dull metal floors, rolling around at your feet. Dwainet’s here. His followers are here. Instantly, your breath began to pick up, hand clutching tightly to We’ar-ow’s. Her’s being the rock to ground you. Why had she brought you here? The lump in your throat only grew as she had to tug you forward, to enter these grounds.

Immediately upon entering, those could peer through the bars of their new home, spotted your duo strutting down the hallway. Those who you didn’t think were apart of the revolution snarled and swiped through the bars.

One grew to close to you, nearly nicking you. When the Yautja attempted to retrieve its arm had said limb snatched then slammed onto the corner of wall. A deafening snap echoing into the air. The offending Yautja howled and scrambled away like a dog with its tail between its legs. We’ar-ow straightened her spine and began her march once more.

No one else dared to reach through the bars again.

When We’ar-ow came to a stop of pivoted on her heel, you felt the gaze of someone far too familiar. It took every ounce of will in your body to stop from shuttering. You drew a deep breath into your lungs, steeled your nerves, and faced danger with a level head.

Dwainet was a clear image of seething rage from the depths of hell. You knew if he could get his grubby hands on you, he would stop at nothing to tear you apart and make We’ar-ow watch the entire time.

Two forces who want you more than anything. Two forces who want you for different reasons.

Death. Life.

Grey eyes that could burn you to ground and leave on an scorch mark left. Eyes you once peered into for love wanted nothing more than you dead. The fear didn’t creep up your back. No, you let a boiling hatred for this Yautja, for this fucker who’s ruined your life, who disturbs your peace, rear its ugly head inside of you.

“Well, if it ain’t the ooman whipped Monarch and the soft meat coming to see me,” he drawled and rolled his head around and sat back, lax. As if he wasn’t about to meet his doom, where he’ll be challenged once and for all. Where he’ll be slaughter like he should’ve been all those months ago. Your mistake had come around to bite you in the butt but We’ar-ow is going to correct that. Then, this will all be over. Finally.

She looked down upon the tinier male with distain, as if she had stepped in dog poop. Yet, the flames of rage were evident in her bright eyes. “I challenge you, Dwainet Terorom, to a battle of death. Winner takes all,” she spoken evenly, unfazed by the male’s anger.

The male raised a brow then rolled his eyes. “’Winner takes all’? That’s all you have? What does this include? Cause if you are referring to your disgusting pet, I’ve had my fun running through it. The same hole gets old.”

Horror passed over your features, heat rushing to set your cheeks ablaze. His words hurt. They caused your heart to shatter all over again after you gathered the majority of the pieces again. You held back a pathetic whimper and turned your head, eyes closed. Your nose pressed to We’ar-ow’s forearm as you attempted to hold back tears.

Her hold tightened, squeezing your knuckles painfully together before releasing the near crushing hold. “My life and my title.”

Your eyes snapped wide. You ripped away from her to look up at the pink Yautja in shock. The trust in her abilities is high but to wager such a thing was… beyond anything you could ever think of. Life was one thing but her title as Monarch. Not in a million years could you ever see Dwainet be a leader of anything. She must believe it is a sure thing for her to win to allow that to be on the table.

An intrigued expression passed over his features. One of his upper mandibles quirking up. Dwainet leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he peered up at his Monarch. “Title, you say?” he purred in delight, eyes flickering over to you. The hatred overran any other emotion that swirled inside his grey eyes. “Monarch Dwainet. Ah, I already like the sound of that.”

One thing any youngsters do is count their eggs before they hatch.

“And you can bring two of any class to fight along your side. Of any skill level,” she added as well. Your jaw dropped. What?! That’s unfair! Why would she pit a three verses one against herself? That’s a death wish. Her hand squeezed yours, either to reassure you or silently telling you stop fretting. How could you though when she pulls this kind of trick?

A barked laugh left his throat. “You really want to watch me slaughter your pet before I take your title, don’t you? Or maybe, you want to die knowing, I might keep it, truly treat it like the pet it is. Something not even worthy of dignity.” Again, her grip tightened but for her this time. You couldn’t help the shuttered, afraid of what his words could mean for you.

There are worse things than death.

We’ar-ow squared her shoulders and looked down upon the scum in the cell before the two of you. “Do you accept?” Her voice stayed even, yet firm due to the quarrels fighting inside of her. Your nails began to bite into the back of her hand, holding on for dear life. Your life in the hands of her as you watched We’ar-ow nearly pass it back to Dwainet. The one who started it all.

Dwainet relaxed against the back wall again, leg slightly bouncing. “Hell yeah. I would be a fool to pass up a one-way ticket to becoming the Monarch,” he snorted. “I know exactly who I’ll recruit. Three verses one. You are a fool, Monarch.”

For the first time in months, you agreed with Dwainet. Whatever plan she had, she better share it with you.

“Does a week allow you enough time to prepare?” the pink Yautja asked him, mandibles slightly twitching. You were starting to freak out more internally. You didn’t dare look over at him, afraid of what his gaze may do to you. A week? A week before you could be handed back to Dwainet and forced to do his bidding.

He chuckled and rolled his head. “Plenty. Will that be enough for you to say goodbye to that pathetic toy you’ve claimed?” he taunted and scoffed in your direction. You couldn’t help the flinch and down casted gaze to the ground. You felt meek, weak in the eyes of him.

Where has all your confidence, your power gone now?

“My ooman will forever be at my side.” This was a statement, a fact that felt bound by blood. You are hers. The ten million times she’s stated that haven’t gone over your head.

She tugged you into her front, back to your thighs. One of her hands wrapped around your throat, the other still holding onto yours. At first, you tensed up, despising being put in front of Dwainet like this. “You lost this. You disowned this. You are dishonorable,” she said in a calm manner and ran her thumb along the side of your neck, feeling along your artery. One false move could have you bleeding out.

His grey eyes rolled in dismissal. “I could less about the soft meat.” A heavy insult in the eyes of Yautjas. “It was useless, barely good enough to warm a bed. But it could not reproduce. It has no use.”

With her hand around your neck, she kept you face forward, forcing you gaze upon Dwainet. Tears desperately crawled to the surface before you steeled them away at the last second and growled.

“I can’t wait to watch her rip you apart,” you snarled at him. Fresh, hot tears spilling down from hurt and anger this time. “It was I who had her spare you. I will not ask for that again. A mistake that’s about to be righted.” Your teeth were bared at him. The only free hand clenched into a fist, as if you could swing and hurt him in the slightest.

Behind you, We’ar-ow offered a short purr, still stroking over your artery. “A fiery spirt you have lost, Dwainet. This ooman will watch as this clan thrives.” Her hand slipped from yours and rested on your shoulder. You were effectively pinned to her, not that you would want to escape anyhow. “The empty sockets of your skull will only watch the happiness your ex-mate brings me.”

At first, you tensed up at the fact she used ‘ex-mate’ instead of pet. Your eyes flicked up to find her gazing down at you. You were fucked.

He scoffed and waved you off. “Whatever. You’re the one outnumbered, outmatched, and out skilled on your own accord. You’re going to go down worse than the last Monarch.”

“One week.” With that stated, We’ar-ow guided you to turn and began to march out. No one dared to even poke an inch through the bars of the cage to reach for you. A lesson for the troublesome group: don’t mess with the Monarch’s ooman.

[kj-yikes]

27. Coffee

(on ao3 here)

Hey, I know it's been a while but I'm in town for some meetings! Would you have time this week to meet up? We can get drinks or coffee or dinner or something. I'm flexible! :)

Lena's lost in thought, staring at the message. The number isn't saved in her contacts anymore, but she knows exactly who it is. Somehow, that string of numbers takes up space in her brain, even if she's tried to forget it. Why Lena hasn't blocked the number yet, she doesn't know.

(Well, if she's being honest with herself, she does know why.)

Lena closes her laptop and starts packing up to leave her office for the evening. The sun has already set, and the busy and bright lights of downtown Metropolis shine below her, fifty stories up. She passes by her assistant's empty desk and presses the elevator button with a sigh, rolling her neck. Lena should probably schedule a massage. She should probably stop working so late, too.

Unfortunately, she should probably also text Kara back.

Lena waits until she's safe in her apartment before she picks up her phone again. The entire drive home was a battle in her brain about how to respond.

Kara left the offer so open ended, which allows Lena choose which one would be the least painful option. If she were just Lena Luthor, ordinary person, and Kara were just Kara Danvers, ex… whatever they were, Lena would likely just ignore the message. But she's Lena Luthor, CEO of L-Corp, and Kara is Kara Danvers, editor-in-chief at CatCo and Supergirl. As a businesswoman, Lena knows it's beneficial to keep her relationship with Kara as cordial as possible, especially now that Kara is the editor-in-chief. As a Luthor, Lena knows it's best to stay on Supergirl's good side, even if Lena is no longer in National City.

But the last time she saw Kara, they had slept together. Lena hadn't even expected Kara to be at the Metropolis Museum of Art gala, in a gorgeous blue floral lace dress and her long hair cascading down her back. She had looked incredible, which had been infuriating for Lena. Even still, when Kara finally caught her staring, her face passed from shock to smugness faster than Lena could look away with a blush.

Kara had found her trying to leave the gala early, and somehow convinced Lena to let her accompany Lena home to talk. Lena had poured them wine, and they had fought for almost an hour before Kara suddenly grabbed Lena and pulled her into a searing, devastating kiss. They had found momentary understanding in Kara's tongue on Lena's clit, in Kara grinding out her release against three of Lena's fingers.

Then, after minutes of laying breathless in each other's arms, Kara had said the three words Lena couldn't accept from her. Heart shattering, she had made Kara leave. Kara had reached out multiple times right after that night, but Lena had told her that she couldn't do any of it anymore.

That had been two years ago. Eventually, the personal calls stopped, just like they had when Lena moved to Metropolis without telling Kara. Catco continued to sing L-Corp's and Lena's praises on occasion (even when it wasn't entirely deserved, if Lena's being honest), and Lena continued to be a source for Catco (though, admittedly, with a different reporter).

Lena wishes she could throw her phone off the balcony. She wishes she could push Kara against the wall and devour her, make her regret what she ruined. She wishes Kara had simply trusted her enough to tell her the truth, loved her enough to share her whole self with Lena, because that's what Lena had done. Lena had trusted Kara with her whole self, and got nothing but lies in return.

Lena has to protect her heart, if she's going to see Kara again.

Lena had tried to rebuild her life in Metropolis. She threw herself into work, spending hours in the lab in her free time. She went to happy hour with Sam, she cheered at Ruby's soccer games. She took beautiful women out for dinner and brought them home and pretended not to realize that they all stared down at her with blue eyes that never seemed quite as piercing as the ones she was longing for.

Nothing could truly make Lena forget about the Kara-shaped hole in her heart. Nothing could make Lena let go of what could have been.

Coffee is the safest option. Casual, quick, public. Lena tries not to think of the countless coffee dates she had with Kara over the years, where Kara would pay for her coffee and place a hand on her back as they walked to a table and smile her annoyingly perfect, charming smile and grab her hand. She shoves down the memories of the way her heart would flutter and her stomach would flip-flop and the way that Kara would giggle and blush when Lena's eyes lingered on her lips for just a moment too long. She places them all in little boxes and stacks them away in the back of her mind.

Sighing, Lena types out a response on her phone.

I have time Thursday afternoon for coffee, if that works for you.

It won't just be coffee though. It's never just coffee.

[reidslovely]

When My Time Comes

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of:gun violence, murder, blood, throwing up, and panic attacks. Suicidal ideation, and a few swear words. Reader goes by the name 'Angel' throughout the story. Slightly supernatural/horror I'm not sure how to take it. Very different than anything I've written before please just hang in there lol. It's also unedited because I wrote it in a one day and wanted to get it out as fast as possible before the inspiration left me.

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/OC

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Angst with happy ending

I told y'all Mob!Peter was making a comeback..this is his rebirth. Thanks to Hozier's Work Song.

Please reblog and/or leave a comment instead of liking or hearting this post! Thank you.

There’s an uncomfortable frigid feeling in the room. It’s like that moment when giving a class presentation and everyone is looking dead at the person. Waiting for them to drop because they can tell the speaker doesn’t want to be here, and that they’re waiting for the worst to happen and the other shoe to drop. 

“Angel-” 

Felicia’s voice carried throughout the room. The legs she stood on grew wobbly, her vision narrowing. A mix of bitter bile and anger grew in her throat as she shot the platinum haired girl a heated look. 

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me-” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault!”

 It wasn’t. But it was easier to blame her, the person delivering the blow than it is to blame others. 

Harry’s hands grabbed the distraught girl from under her armpits, to keep her from falling and approaching Felicia any closer than she already was. Harry tucked her into his arm, hand flattening out against her back, trying to soothe the heart he knew was breaking. The smell of the iron on his shirt flooded her nostrils, and only provoked more tears. She fought against Harry, who only held tighter. 

“I wanna see him. Let me see him. I-”

“Angel, that’s not a good i-”

“Let her, Harry. Let her.” Felicia’s words were soft yet firm. Her lip was tucked in between her teeth as she wiped at her face. Harry looked between the two women, and at Miles who was standing in front of the door. He was fighting his own losing battle, and denying her would put him in his own grave. Once he released the girl, she ran as fast as she could and wobbled up the stairs to the bedroom all the way at the end of the hall. Vision so blurry from anxiety, and tears that she couldn’t even make out May, who'd just left the room shutting the door behind her. 

“Angel, you can’t go in there. You shouldn’t. Pete, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just stay out here for a li-”

Usually she’d respect May’s wishes, and listen to her wise words. Angel knew deep in her heart of hearts that she was right. That this was an event that would stick with her for life and couldn’t be treated so loosely. But, her husband, Peter, was sitting on the other side of that door and you needed to see him. 

Pushing May aside, nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare her for what laid on the other side of that door. 

“Pete.” Her words faltered seeing his entire torso bandaged, a deep red of blood already seeping through the clean white color of the bandages. Angel carried herself as far as she could before dropping to her knees, crawling across the floor to the bed. 

“A..Angel.” 

Peter’s eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice was somewhat there. Tired and strained, her hands grasped his, as she bowed her head against the memory foam of the death bed. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. 

“Shhh, I’m right here.” There was a sense of dread crawling into the bed with him. It’s the same bed they’d shared for years, but it’s different now as he lays dying. Out of pure reflex her hand reaches out, resting on his torso. He’s too weak to even flinch, her hand soaking with his blood. They’d been trying for hours to stop the damage the attack did to his insides.

“It happened all too fast and there were..too many. His body isn’t healing as fast as it usually does.” Felicia’s explanation came back to her. So much for being superhuman. Angel’s head pressed against his temple, as tears trickled down her cheeks hitting his bare collarbone. 

“Oh Angel..” Peter whispered, pressing his head back against hers. “Don’t cry over me.” 

She shook her head. “‘M not crying Pete, cause you’ll be fine. May gave you more of your blood, and your body is gonna speed up its process. And..and you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m dying, Angel.” 

‘Shut up.” 

“No listen okay.” He used what strength he had to open his eyes, looking at her through half lidded eyes. “I am going to die. I know it and you..” 

He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth. “You kn-kno-know it.” She wiped the blood off his mouth letting tears fall. 

“I love you…so much. You have been..the best part of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond. He closed his eyes again. Bringing his hand to hold her side close to him. “Just..just lay here with me okay?” 

His chest rattled with a shaky breath, she hiccuped choking on her sobs. Laying her head against his cold one. She'd always pictured dying in this bed with him. But she thought she’d be older, thought she’d at least have had some kids- some grandkids. Thought it would be both of them on a quiet, average night. One where she’d go to sleep and just never wake up. 

Never did she think Peter would be lying here dying at only 31 one years old. Angel knew what Peter did for work was dangerous, deadly even. It killed her father, it killed his uncle. Both knew these actions had consequences.  Yet, Peter wasn’t human like everyone else. He had altered DNA from being studied as a kid, from being bit by a spider at seventeen that gave him powers that he used to climb his way up the ladder of organized crime. Yet, those same powers and abilities were what had him lying here fighting to keep going. 

“Peter..” She whispered against his cold skin. “Peter.” Nothing. She put her hand over his heart and felt nothing. No warmth, no movement, nothing. Her hands shook, looking around in panic for anything..anyone. 

“Peter!” 

The yell was louder this time. One that burns the lungs. She shakes him, and shakes him trying to get him back. Starting to attempt her own CPR screaming for him to come back, to not leave like this. Being so engrossed with her own grief and anger, she doesn't even process everyone rushing in. Harry and Felicia pull her off of him kicking and screaming, as May calmly pulls the sheet over his head, before kissing his forehead. 

Angel hated her. She raised him and she’s not even fighting for his life right now. 

Not her, not Harry, not Felicia. None of them. 

“He’s gone.” Harry spoke sitting on the floor with her, holding her as she screamed through the sobs. His legs pinned hers down rocking up back and forth. The smell of the iron from the blood on Harry’s shirt and her body wafted through her nostrils. Between the smell of her dead husband's blood and the pure panic seeping through the body she couldn’t hold back any longer. Angel’s body hunched forward on reflex as vomit spewed out of her mouth and onto Harry and the floor. 

The blonde man didn’t even flinch, rubbing her back as you slumped forward and cried. A part of her laid dead on that bed with her husband's cold body. 

-

The days lingered, in a still limbo. None of it felt in order. Felicia fed her some cocktails of sedatives, to keep her sane as they both helped May plan the funeral. “He didn’t want a shiva.” Angel spoke from the couch, biting down around the cuticle of her nail. 

“I know we aren’t giving him one, just a wake and funeral and a remembrance party.” Felicia spoke, her hand reaching out to hold the woman's leg. Her free hand pulled her fingers out of her mouth. 

“A fucking party?” She spat. “Is that what his death means to you? Some fucking excuse to get shit faced, so you can live with yourself for walking him into that fucking warehouse.” 

Felicia bit down on her cheek, and took a deep breath. She could almost feel Peter’s hand on her shoulder and his stern yet soft demand for an apology to Felicia. 

“I’m sorry. I should-”

“It's fine.” Felicia says, pulling the widow into a hug, letting her head rest on her shoulder. Angel thanked Felicia for her patience, because at this point she had none left. May’s shaky hand covered her own mouth holding back a sob, Angel pulling her into the hug, the three of them taking a moment to cry. 

-

Harry and Miles had dealt with the dirty part. Harry had come home with a bag of medical supplies the night Peter died. He and May injected him with more of his blood that Harry had altered at Oscorp, both hoping for some last resort. Angel sat on the chair in the corner watching them. She had volunteered to wash and dress him before the coroner took him away. The man, Mr. Weekes had dealt in Peter’s dealing before, and he was listed specifically as who Peter wanted to treat him post mortem. 

“Your death wishes list in your will is super morbid.”

 She spoke in a low monotone voice, washing the blood off his arms. It was weird to see him like this: cold and still. Not bantering back and forth with her. “I appreciate it though, I just wish you’d told me about all this sooner. You’re demanding even in death.”

She washed his face next, and stitched up some of the wounds on his chest before dressing him in some of his more comfortable casual clothes. 

“If only you’d tell me what suit you wanted to be fucking burried in. Planned everything else out..” 

Shuffling through his suits, she started fighting back the tears as she came across his wedding suit. Again, feeling his hand on her back, trying to talk her through it. He always knew this was happening before she did. Angel pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes as she started to cry. Heartbeat racing, it felt like it was crawling up her throat and getting stuck. It felt like choking on nothing, causing her to gasp for breath. She dropped herself down into the soft green chair in the back of the closet, crying and gasping for air as she progressed. She started walking herself through it the best one could. Putting a hand on her chest following the breathing techniques, she tried to alter her breathing as much as she could. Once she started coming down, her vision settled back into normal. She looked up at the racks of clothing and let out a shaky, yet normally paced breath. She had settled on the grayish green suit he’d worn only a couple days before. Slamming the closet door to the closet behind her, she shoved the suit into the bag wanting to be done with it all.

“I shouldn’t hate you..” She started, sitting on the bed with him. Putting his watch on him and staring at him. “And I don’t..I don’t think I do. I’m just so..fucking angry. At everyone, at myself, at you. I shouldn’t have let you go, I should have gone with you.” 

Angel laid next to him, his body cold and their sheets still slightly stained in blood. Maybe it was gross and fucked up. However, next to him, was the only place she felt peace. There was a brief staring contest with the syringe filled with some  liquid that laid on a night stand. One stab to the heart would make everything go away, she could be with him again. Maybe the cocktail of sedatives everyone kept feeding her would do it for her at some point. 

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Weekes says walking in, rolling the gurney in with him. Harry and Miles in tow behind him. “I have to take him now. Is that okay?” 

“Angel..” Harry’s voice sounded pitiful, she felt her heart squeeze as she sat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, scurrying out of the bed. Flattening out her clothes, watching Harry help Mr. Weekes transfer Peter to the gurney. Miles comforted her, his arms wrapping around her rubbing her back. Harry nodded his head towards the door, telling him to walk Angel out of the room. He followed directions sitting her in Peter’s office downstairs, both sat in their grief. 

“Why does everyone call you Angel?” Miles asks, wanting to take her mind off Peter. Funny enough, Peter was the reason why she even had the nickname. 

“When Peter and I started dating he brought me home and everyone was there with him at the time. They were ready to meet me if they didn’t know me already. Him, May, Gwen, Felicia, pretty much all of us…he walks me in and he goes "everyone this is Angel, Angel this is everyone.” 

Shr laughs, and Miles smiles. “Everyone just kept calling me Angel till he realized about 30 minutes later that he’s called me Angel instead of my real name. So it was just a pet name that became a nickname. So everyone, including my own mother, calls me it now.” She watched Miles walk around Peter’s office taking in every piece of him. 

“I’m really gonna miss him. He taught me so much, he helped me and my mom. I just..he was like a brother to me.”

“He thought a lot of you too. He cried on your 21st birthday, talking about how much you grew up and how proud he was of you.” She looked at Peter’s will open on the table, her and Harry had gone over it earlier. “You should head home Miles.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I can stay here.”

“Yeah, I have Felicia and May..and Harry.”

Miles nods, engulfing her in a hug. Angel smiled sadly, hugging him back, sliding an envelope from Peter’s desk into his pocket. “No questions. It’s what Pete wanted you to have. There's a note in there you should read it.” 

Miles nodded and patted his pocket, taking the keys off the desk and headed out the office doors. 

-

Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another. Gwen had flown in from London the moment she heard, she helped get Angel out of bed and bathe her for Peter’s funeral seeing as she could barely bring herself out of the guest room.

 “He really loved you.” Angel whispered, her head resting on her knees as Gwen sat by the tub with her. Gwen tilted her head to the side laughing, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. 

“He loved you more.” Gwen says. “I remember when we broke up and I told him if he didn’t ask you out I was going to do it for him. And I think that terrified him more.” They both laughed. “I knew he was going to marry you before he knew, before you knew even” 

“Yeah?” Angel asked, smiling at her, tears rolling from her eyes. 

“You two were made for each other. And I was lucky enough to love both of you.” Gwen whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?” 

“Okay.” Angel nodded leaning back in the tub.

-

Standing by his coffin was awkward; she felt like a little girl at her daddy’s funeral again. Not knowing how to stand next to the body, not liking the way the pity filled stares felt, so she focused on his body. There was a rosy tint to Pete’s cheeks, and he almost looked alive. She rubbed his cheek looking at the gifts lining his coffin, stuff people wanted to lay to rest with him. “It’s only been five days, and I’m losing my mind.” Her voice whispered to him, her hand holding his.

 “I don't know if I can do this without you.” She flattened out the white shirt under his tux and took a deep breath. 

“Let's sit dear.”

 May sniffles, holding her side reassuringly. Angel nodded, wrapping an arm around May, rubbing her shoulder. No one knew her pain like May Parker. She’d become her rock in the haze of grief. She had lost her husband and her nephew who was more her son than anything. She’d been staying at the house with Angel and everyone, she’d even climbed into bed with her most nights like a child seeking comfort from her mother. She was thankful for her and thankful Peter had brought May to her. They were the two most important women in his life and bonded like no other. 

-

“Peter Benjamin Parker was the love of my life, and he was an amazing man.” Angel spoke into the mic standing before friends, family, and acquaintances. She looked down at him in the coffin, and smiled at him, already wiping away tears. 

 “I know to many of you he was frightening, and strong. He seemed unforgiving, cold, and inhumane on occasion but he was my best friend, and my soulmate. He was a complex human and that…is what brought his life to such a short stop. I’m no good at public speaking. I'm sorry, this was always his thing. He was so charming and knew how to talk to you all, and I stood behind him every step of the way. But in the last few days, I discovered he was actually the one standing behind me every step we took together, and he also stood behind many of you and helped you all in numerous ways. I think he left a part of him in all of us, and I hope we can all be half the person he was one day..I- I’m sorry. Harry..Har-.” 

“I got you go, go.” Harry ushered Angel off the podium covering her crying frame from onlookers. She sniffled, wiping her eyes stepping off the podium into Gwen’s arms sitting back down between her and May. May kissed her head, assuring  that it was all going to be okay. Her hands comforting and cradling her face as Angel tried to quietly bawl her eyes out. She stared at the casket in front of her during Harry’s speech, slowly turning everything around her out. 

-

“Angel.” Eddie Brock smiled as she stood outside watching Peter be lowered into the ground. She smiled at him in return, letting him engulf her in a hug.

 “Oh I’m so sorry, Peter was such a good guy. Kind of scary..but..good.”

Angel laughed sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know he meant a lot to you Ed.” 

“He did, he really saved my ass more than once. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” 

She tilted her head, and tried her best to smile at him. “Hopefully stay out of trouble.”

Eddie shook his head back and forth, giving a smirk that said ‘We’ll see.’

They exchanged sad goodbyes and she watched him leave heading towards his car. She was thankful that Peter’s death was kept out of the headlines, it took some begging and bribing Betty Brant but it was worth it for such an intimate and private time. 

She watched the grave diggers starting to fill in the dirt, and she contemplated staying the night on the bench. But May came, wrapping her arms around Angel, a jacket you immediately identified as Peter’s from smell alone. 

“Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” May offered, pushing hair from the girls face. 

“That’d be nice, yeah.”  Angel whispered. “How have you not lost it yet? All I want to do is crawl in that hole with him.”

“I know you do. I was there once, it’s a terribly awful feeling Angel, I know.” May frowned, holding her arm with hers as they walked together to the car. “Peter, bless him. I love him, he was my son no matter what anyone said he was my boy. But because of that I saw every side of him and Peter had been ready to go since Ben died. And I find peace in thinking that they are together again, and that he is safe and protected..and- I’m sorry” May’s voice broke and she fanned her face. “And they are here in any way we want them to be.”

There was quiet for a moment before Angel let out a soft, yet grief riddled laugh.

“I need what you have.” You laughed sadly, both of you crying now. 

May let a teary laugh burst from her chest. “We’ll go make some tea and talk about it.”

That's what they did. The two had a girls night with Gwen and spent it remembering Peter in their own way. About twenty minutes in She had wandered off into Peter’s old bedroom. Smiling as she stood in the doorway, and she knew grief was a funny thing because she could see the two of them about fifteen years younger dancing in his bedroom practicing for prom. 

“Ouch that was my foot!” She yelled out. Peter dropped to his knees dramatically, grabbing her leg inspecting her foot playfully. 

“Not broken.” He placed a kiss on the top of her foot before jumping to his feet. Watching her smile and scrunch her nose.

“I didn’t say it was.” 

‘Well I had to make sure I didn’t hurt my girl.” 

She shook her head in response, rolling her eyes. Hands rubbing his shoulders, placing his glasses on the top of his head. “Are you gonna do that at our wedding too?” She teased. 

Peter pulled a face laughing, racking his head back and forth thinking. “Maybe! But since when are we getting married? What have you and Gwendy been planning, mhm?”

Angel looked over at his desk where she’d found her engagement ring tucked away only a couple years later. 

“I couldn’t find the blue quilt but I found the gray one and everything is set up and ready when..”

They both froze looking at the green velvet box in her, now shaky, hand. 

“Shit I knew I should’ve put it in the safe. My girlfriend is so nosey.” He laughed it off taking the green box from her hand. “You just couldn’t wait a couple weeks till your birthday mhm?” He laughs, kissing on her face. Angel could feel warmth wash over her face and body, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I was just looking for those pictures from our trip upstate you had processed.” 

Peter smiled tugging up his gray sweatpants, dropping onto one knee. 

“Angel, my sweet girl. I have loved you for years, for far longer than I remember. Ever since we were in middle school, and I got lucky enough several years ago to have you want me. Maybe we are a little young to get engaged, but I know I want to be with you forever. I’m not asking for a wedding anytime soon, I just want to know that eventually in-”

“Yes.” You cut him off excitedly, hands cupping over your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Peter scrunched his nose, standing up as he slid the ring on your finger twirling you around. 

“She said yes!” Peter yells throughout the house, the announcement bouncing off the walls and making a home in its fixtures. 

May’s excited cheer could be heard all the way up the steps. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he spun you. 

Walking towards the perfectly made bed, she mentally thanked May for never changing it. For keeping it the same all these years later. She took her shoes off, crawling into the bed closing her eyes waiting for sleep to wash over like a wave. For just a second she swore the other side of the bed dipped down, and in instinct made room for his tired frame to crash beside her. 

-

“A distraught man was seen walking up around the streets of Harlem this morning, the man was described as looking dirty. Wearing a green suit, and was seemingly distraught and confused, mumbling to himself.” The anchorwoman spoke, reading off her cue cards shocked by the news herself. Angel scrolled on her phone wrapped in one of May’s quilts as she made breakfast.

 “Witnesses say the man seemed distraught, and in a rush. Looking like he had climbed out of a hole, his suit askew and ran past anyone who offered help. Seemingly not wanting to be seen.” 

She switched the channel before she cared to hear the other stories, not thinking she could handle the grief of another depressing story right now. Angel wrapped the blanket around herself, walking to the kitchen to talk to May. Her phone pinging, the front camera at the house notifying her that motion had been detected. 

“I’ve gotta get to the hospital after I eat, are you gonna be okay getting home? I know it’s not that far of a wal- everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I actually should get a cap and head that way. I just got a weird notification I need to check out.”

“Okay yeah. Do you need me to go with you?” May asked.

“No, no. I, I don’t know what it is. Could be nothing or an error on my end.” Angel says, pulling herself out of the chair rushing towards the door. Quickly calling a cab she climbed into the back refreshing the ring app trying to get it to load. The dark screen freaking her out. She had called Harry, bouncing her leg in the back of the cab watching the houses fly by. 

“I was just about to call you.” Harry’s panic was evident from his voice. “Someone dug up Peter’s grave. Kicked the headstone over and everything.”

“You don’t think it was Fisk’s guys do you?”

“Could be..could be anybody. I love Pete but he had a lot of enemies.”

“I got a notification that there's motion at the front door, but it’s not loading now. It's a network error.” She spoke as the cab pulled into the neighborhood, already unbuckling her seatbelt waiting for the sudden stop. 

“Okay listen to me.” Harry says starting the car. “I’m thirty minutes away, there’s a gun hidden in a fake drawer in the table by your door. It’s loaded, and I know you know how to use it. Let’s just be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah..” Angel nodded, rubbing her forehead wishing Peter was there to talk her through this. “Okay I’m heading in. I’ll let you know.” 

Angel handed the driver a hundred that she had on her and hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of the pajama pants she’d been wearing at May’s. The front door was left ajar and slightly off its hinges. She looked down seeing a track of dirt leading from the front walk away all the way into the house. 

Quietly she found the gun Harry was talking about, leaving the safety on till otherwise needed and slowly following the muddy footprints. The fridge was left ajar, food and drinks sitting on the counter. Whoever broke in was pretty hungry, having pulled out the pastrami and other gatherings for a sandwich. A soda poured into a glass and half gone. She checked Peter’s office, his file cabinets open and a couple files pulled out. As she went to open the files to see who it was research on, she heard the water upstairs turn on. Slowly and as quiet as possible she snuck up the steps, and through her bedroom. Her jewelry box was left open but nothing was taken out, everything in the closet was practically untouched except for a couple of Peter’s items thrown onto the floor. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door to the bathroom open, and nothing could prepare her for what stood on the other side of the door. 

“Angel..”

The voice nearly caused her to drop to her knees. She knew grief was a funny thing, because Peter Parker was standing before. Dirty and clearly sore, his voice strained from not using it for a couple days. Her knees fell out from under her, Peter using his reflexes to catch the gun and her all in one go. Smearing mud and blood lightly on her as he caught her. He placed the gun on the counter away from them as he slid down onto the floor with her. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know. It’s scary. It’s okay, Angel. Breathe okay. In and out.” 

She couldn’t even find her voice to scream, she reached out hitting him trying to get him away from her. A ghost from her nightmare.  The harder she hit though, the faster she realized he was real..this was all real. 

“You’re dead.” 

“I was..technically. Kind of yeah.” 

“Not technically, legally.”

Peter laughed shakily holding her, tears starting to pour out of his own eyes. His lips pressed against her forehead letting out a gasp of air. 

“Spiders..play dead when they sense danger. Meaning their bodies shut down completely out of their control, as a way to replenish and prepare to attack and prevent further damage.” She watched intently as he explained his mad man ramblings. 

“I guess when I got bit that’s something my nervous system developed the ability to do. I read about it all those years ago after I got bit. It just never happened until I took so much damage. So, yes. I was..I did die. However, the amount of my own blood that Harry and May pumped into me. Helped me heal in that shut down state.” Peter laughs hearing himself. He sounded fucking crazy. Angel reached her hand out cradling his face, gasping at his warmth. His heat radiating off his body again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lunged forward holding him in a hug sobbing happily. 

Harry’s feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he yelled for her. 

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey Harry.” Peter laughed awkwardly. “Long story.” 

Harry, in shock, stumbled out of the room immediately making phone calls. Letting out a scream of shock and awe.

“Angel..” Peter whispered. “I need to shower okay. You can stay with me though if you want.”

So she did, she washed his hair and body. Rubbing her fingers over the held wounds that once littered his chest now just scars in their place. So much for being superhuman.

“We’re never gonna have a normal life are we?”

Peter shook his head, kissing her head. 

“No, no we won’t. But we’ll have each other, and no matter what happens. No grave will hold me down.” He laughs holding them together, making her look up at him. “I’m coming back here, back to you everytime.”

 She shook her  head holding him close listening to the beat of his heart, finally feeling that piece she lost crawl back home into her chest.

I know that was different...I hope you guys liked it. I really wanted to bring Mob!Peter back but I'm nothing if not dramatic..so :)

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