#One of these days I will get one of these properly looked over

[violentdeliiights]

my baby

eek this is my first time properly writing for ghost gasp

this was supposed to just be a quick little drabble but i kind of got into the writing mood and couldn’t stop

also disclaimer i have never first hand played the games, but i’ve watched friends and family play them so any inaccuracies please ignore!

cw: details of car accident, hospitals, angst, female reader (i think that’s all pls let me know if there are others)

word count: 1.8k - not proofread, ignore any mistakes thank youuu

Simon could feel something was wrong.

Something in his bones, a rippling wave of nausea, a shift in the breeze on the back of his neck.

The other lads had always made a joke of his seemingly supernatural levels of superstition, how he was able to almost always accurately predict when or if something was going to go wrong.

Information had been from a dodgy source? Simon had guessed from the way Gaz had dropped his mug of coffee that morning.

One of their safe houses was infiltrated? Yeah, he’d known something was coming after Soap had stubbed his little toe getting out of bed and they’d heard the Scot’s high-pitched swearing from the mess hall.

They were being ambushed whilst on a seemingly harmless mission? You guessed it, Lt. Simon Riley had warned them in the helo the day before that Price’s favourite hat going missing was a sign.

One thing about Simon- he never, ever ignored his intuition.

So the forlorn look on Price’s face as he approached Simon’s hulking frame in the gym caused his stomach to drop. He’d been stood supervising Gaz and Soap training the newbies when that god awful sensation washed over him- and now he could tell Price was going to confirm that feeling.

Turning to face the Captain when he reached his side, Simon nodded out of respect, “Cap’n”.

The sigh that he received in response only made his stomach plummet further.

“Simon,”

Price never called him by his first name. Only ever Lieutenant or Ghost.

Something was really wrong.

“…it’s your girl. She’s in a bad way.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Unlike your husband, you’d never been one for superstition. All those things online about a woman’s intuition made you feel slightly out of the loop- you don’t think you’d ever predicted something bad before it happened.

In some ways you were thankful; you never lived with the lingering sense of dread and suspicion that Simon seemed to. You’d never woken up filled with anxiety over something that was a possibility.

However, in some ways, it was a curse. Every bad thing that had ever happened to you or your loved ones seemed to blindside you. Breakups, whilst sometimes predictable, had always gutted you in a deep, physical way. Betrayal, death, accidents, injuries. They all seemed to hit you deeper when you never saw them coming.

Being stabbed in the back hurts worse when you can’t see the knife coming.

That was why that morning had felt like just another Thursday. Your normal day to go food shopping, knowing the supermarket would be relatively quiet and that you would need to stock up for the weekend when Simon tended to snack like nobody’s business.

You had just packed up the car with the bags, pulling out of the car park and onto the large roundabout the led onto the main road.

Just like every other time you’d made the trip.

Only, those other times didn’t include a huge Land Rover who hadn’t seen you in your tiny Volkswagen Beetle- the one your husband had bought you when you’d told him it was your dream car as a little girl.

The Rover pulled out just as you passed him, driving head first into the passenger’s side and sending your car spinning, careening out of control and straight into a sign post on the other side of the road, tipping the car onto its side.

The accident had happened at such a speed that you hadn’t even mentally understood what was happening before your eyes closed involuntarily, shards of glass from the smashed windshield and doors littering your skin, your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, cuts all over your body and your seatbelt digging painfully into you.

Your last thought before your body shut down was the face of the man you loved.

✯ ✯ ✯

Simon had never driven as fast in his life.

He was well over the speed limit, his foot on the accelerator almost parallel to the floor.

The hour drive to the hospital from the base took him 25 minutes.

He hadn’t even bothered with a response when Price had informed him of which hospital you were in, Gaz and Soap only looking up from their training when they heard the door slam after him, the gym feeling slightly colder than it had minutes prior.

He had no doubt that the rest of the task force wouldn’t be far behind him: you had become somewhat of a staple around the base over the years, bringing the boys hot meals, helping with odd jobs, making sure they were all taking care of themselves.

Sometimes, Soap would come to you with his issues instead of Ghost- that was when you knew your husbands colleagues were more than just colleagues. You had been welcomed into their little dysfunctional family.

Throwing his car into the first parking space he found, Simon stormed into the reception area, his aura more that of Ghost than Simon with the palpable anger and tension radiating off of him. The elderly receptionist seemed to cower in his shadow looming over the desk, ignoring the funny and fearful looks he got from the rest of the waiting area as he barked out your name.

“R-room 414, pet,” He made a mental note to thank the woman a bit more softly and charged his way down the hall to the stairwell. The lift would only hinder him and he knew fine well he would run up a million flights of stairs to get to you. Hell, he’d scale Everest blindfolded. Wrangle the moon with a rope. Anything. For you.

After reaching the fourth floor, he flung the door stairwell door open and began his search for you, scouring each and every door number until he found it

Despite his earlier efforts to get to you as quickly as possible, he felt himself take a shuddering breath before he dared to enter- he had no idea what he was walking into. The only information Price had been given was that you’d been hospitalised a handful of hours ago. It was harder to reach a next of kin who worked on a military base, apparently.

When his eyes landed on you in that hospital bed, the only thing keeping his legs from giving way beneath him was the thought of getting to you.

Your usually glowing face was pale and sunken. Your lovely rosy cheeks he loved to pepper with kisses were hidden beneath tubes and cuts. A bandage wrapped around your head skewed your hair from his sight. The feeling of seeing you lying there, helpless, relying on machines to keep you going was so much worse than any bad intuition he’d ever felt before.

He would swap places with you in a heartbeat. No physical pain would ever compare with the utter devastation he was experiencing. His heart was no longer in his own chest, but lying battered and bruised in a hospital bed attached to machines.

His large hands swept delicately over the side of your head, “My baby,” his voice wavered, heavy with fear, “My sweet girl. What happened to you, baby?”

The taste of salt on his lips was his only sign that he was crying.

Big, bad, Lieutenant Simon Riley. Ghost. His name drove terror into the hearts of men across the globe.

Reduced to tears at the sight of you.

His knees hit the floor by your bedside, both of his hands delicately cupping your bruised face, “Come back to me, baby. You promised forever, yeah? I’m holding you to that,” A quiet sob ripped from his throat before he could control it, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek and moving to bury his head in your stomach to muffle any more sobs.

Simon had no idea how long he had been sat slumped over you, still on his knees yet not willing to leave your side for more than a second to grab a chair. He would never let you out of sight again. Judging by the fact that the sky was significantly darker by the time he heard the door open, he could tell he’d been here for a while. Jerking his slumped head up to the door, he left out a silent breath of relief when a familiar face appeared with a sorrowful smile.

“Hey, Si. How’s our bonnie lass?” To Soap, you had been their girl since the moment Simon had introduced you to the group. His best friend- second only to your husband.

When Simon said nothing, only looked at him in silent despair and flickered his eyes back to you, Soap pushed open the door and revealed the other two men stood patiently behind him. Filtering into the room, both Gaz and Price removed their hats in respect as the three of them came to stand by your bedside but Simon couldn’t remove his eyes from you. His baby. His sweet, funny, intelligent girl.

“Hope you don’t mind, LT- we found ‘er doctor a bit ago, asked ‘im what happened, thought we’d give you some space,” Price’s voice had never been so soft, so cautious not to disturb the sullen atmosphere of the room, “Said she’d been in a car accident. Some idiot had pulled out on her, thankfully on the passenger side so she avoided the brunt of it,”

“They’ve said to let her rest, should hopefully come round in a bit, but she’s gonna be sore for a while,” Gaz finished Price’s explanation as gently as he could, knowing his LT’s tendency to become protective and hostile at the flip of a switch.

“She’ll be just fine, Si. Just needs her beauty sleep.” Even Soap’s usual humour couldn’t calm Simon. Someone had done this to you. You were in her because of the careless mistake of someone else.

He wouldn’t leave your side. Never again.

✯ ✯ ✯

Price had managed to coax Ghost into a chair before they’d left to return to base, hoping to save his knees and back but allowing him to stay with you.

Simon had resumed his previous place of laying his head gently on your stomach, clutching the hand closest to him in both of his.

At some point, the utter terror he had been feeling since the minute he saw Price’s face that afternoon caught up with him and he had passed out, still clutching your hand.

The feeling of gentle fingers weaving into his hair was what stirred Simon from a dreamless sleep, confusedly lifting his head to see you looking down at him with a pained smile when you caught sight of his red-rimmed eyes. The only time you’d seen your husband shed a tear was at your wedding.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he took in your eyes. Your beautiful, open, awake eyes. He’d never take those eyes for granted ever again.

“My baby.”

[captain039]

PART 7 LAST PART Unconventional Alpha

Alpha!Viktor x omega!reader

Warnings: Heats, suppressants, AOB, light swearing, Viktor’s not dying but still disabled, reader has chronic pain, plus size reader, nesting, Older Viktor, Professor Viktor, artistic reader, age gap reader is in their 20s +, smut?, oral f receiving

Previous part <-

It’s a routine eventually, he gets up, makes you breakfast of simple toast and butter, brings you your meds before lying back down in your nest. He simply holds you during these times, his fingers gently detangling your hair his other hand resting on your hip or waist. He sleeps with you at night, his long lean body wrapped around your bigger frame. Your heat isn’t as bad now, probably having an alpha close pretty much 24/7 has done its trick. By the seventh day you feel better, you don’t sweat as much, the need goes to a simmer and your flare up goes down. You shower properly, feel better about yourself and even do some art out in your small lounge area of your dorm room. Viktor goes back to his work once he sees you up and about, catching up assignments and whatever else professors do no doubt. By the tenth day you’re fine, your heat is gone, you feel different though, calmer with Viktor around like he was always meant to be there. Being off your suppressants too makes you feel more like yourself, rather than suppressing your omega nature. Viktor goes back to class on the eleventh day as do you, you hope to avoid any rumours or anything but highly doubt that nobody didn’t talk. So you keep a low profile, not that your profile wasn’t low anyway, you just make it extra low. You go back to the doctors and Dr Marion confirms you’re in the clear and able to take your suppressants again as long as you don’t double dose again, which you will not. You sit in the cafeteria around lunch, earphones in as you listen to some music. You notice a small band approaching though and frown a bit hoping their walking past with no such luck. You take your earphones out.

“Hi?” You say.

“What’s it like to fuck a professor?” You almost joke on your food at the blunt question and feel your embarrassment rise up.

“I didn’t- do that” you say, who even was this woman?

“That’s why Professor Viktor was in your dorm for eleven days huh? You smell fresh out of heat too” she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I-“ you didn’t think this far ahead.

“You should leave before I decide to make you all fail my class” You tense up a bit at the sound of Professor Talis behind you and glance back to him briefly. The students walk off though and you sigh.

“Y/n? Right?” He gives you a smile.

“Yeah” you answer.

“Can I sit?” He asks and you nod. Great now two Professors that aren’t yours are suddenly talking to you in the cafeteria.

“How you feeling?” He asks and you tense up at the question.

“I just meant your overall well being I wasn’t-“ You watch as Professor Talis stammers over his words and goes a shade of red over his tan skin.

“I’m ok” you nod and he sighs in relief nodding.

“That’s good” he smiles.

“Viktor’s caught up in some meetings for the day” he explains as he starts to eat his lunch.

“Oh, thanks for letting me know” you say nodding picking at your food feeling awkward.

“I’m making you uncomfortable” he says.

“No- it’s ok” you say.

“No, it’s not, two professors that aren’t yours talking to you in cafeteria puts a target on your back for rumours” he smiles gently and you nod not sure how to answer.

“In all honesty I’m an admirer of your art too, I’ve seen it in the academy gallery” he says and you perk up.

“Really?” You ask and he nods smiling.

“Yeah it’s amazing, and the one in the council room? I could never paint like that” he chuckles and you feel a smile on your lips.

“Just practice” you shrug.

“No, you’re hell of an artist, like seriously talented” he says and you feel warm at the praise. It’s been hard to accept praises from people about your art, always looking at it and finding mistakes in tiny details.

“Well you’re a seriously talented inventor” you chuckle and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly with a cute smile.

“Only sometimes” he grins. You feel at ease as you talk more, Professor Talis going on about your art work like a fan boy it makes you smile having only seen him as this super smart tough inventor who invented a hextech hammer and gauntlets. You loose track of time before his watch buzzes.

“Shit” he says standing up abruptly.

“Sorry, I gotta go I’m late to my own damn class” he says and you laugh waving him goodbye as he rushes.

You return to your own art class for the day lost in the strokes of the brush before you realise it’s late. Your stomach grumbles for food as you stand and you glance to the clock before heading to the cafeteria. Your heart rate increases a bit seeing a familiar figure there sitting down at your table. You grab a tray of food before walking over.

“Can I sit?” You ask watching the alpha lift his head a small smile on his face as he nods.

“Was starting to think you weren’t coming” he says as you sit down.

“And miss dinner? Who do you take me for?” You tease and he chuckled softly.

“Of course” he says. You look at him for a bit before you look at your food and start eating it.

“Professor Talis sat with me at lunch today” you say.

“Jayce did?” Viktor says frowning a bit and you nod.

“Had a rather blunt rumour of me uh fucking a professor and Professor Talis said he’d fail them all if they didn’t leave” Viktor’s frown narrows.

“I didn’t say anything - if you’re wondering I haven’t-“ you trail off stuttering a bit.

“I know you didn’t, I’m just-” he sighs.

“You’d think in a place such as the academy silly rumours would be a thing of the past where people used their damned brains for once” he sneers a bit and you smile.

“Damned brains huh?” You say and he looks to you his frown softening.

“Indeed” he smiles.

“I’m sorry if I caused any problems” you say poking your food with your fork.

“Look at me” he says and you do.

“I don’t care what anyone says, they want to talk let them, you needed me in a vulnerable time and I’m happy you trusted me, any alpha would’ve been privileged to-“ he frowns a bit suddenly.

“What?” You ask quietly.

“Would you like to go on a date?” He says his eyes staring into yours and you forget how to breathe.

“A date?” You ask and he nods.

“Like a date, date? Outside the academy?” You continue.

“Yes” he says.

“You want to go on a date with me?” I smiled a bit and leans forward.

“Yes Miss Y/n Y/l/n I would like to go on a date with you” he says softly.

“Why?” You blurt stupidly.

“Because the thought of you finding another alpha makes me want to use my cane for violence than aid” he says seriously and you burst out laughing at the sudden imagery of him attacking someone with his cane.

“And I do enjoy seeing you laugh” he says more softly and you feel your cheeks warm.

“I also do love enjoying being the one who makes those pretty cheeks of yours go red” he says voice dropping lower making you warmer.

“I could go on, however….” he trails off and smirks and you see the cockiness in it making you glare at him.

“I want to be the only one buried between those gorgeous thighs of yours” he whispers and he’s right you’re no doubt red as a tomato. You reach over and slap him and he smiles taking your hand in his instead, his fingers gently running over your hand.

“But I am serious, the thought of another alpha with you, staying with you in that time made me realise I want you, and I’m hoping you want me too” he says his voice soft as he gently caresses your hand.

“So, will you go out on a date with me?” He repeats and you nod. He smiles brightly, full teethed and natural, you see his slightly crooked teeth as he lifts your hand to his mouth and he kisses your knuckles.

Taglist:

I hope you enjoyed this story!

@imithicwolf

@donnie-is-here

@justmoniesworld

@sseleniaa

@charliepoopyfart

@fuckisthatahotghost

[off-color-darkrai]

I did it! He's done! Crochet Ingo is completed!

Look upon him and despair!

But seriously, Ingo took soooo much longer than his brother because I had to stop every few seconds to go over the clothes I made for Emmet, count the stitches, count a couple more times because those buggers are tiny, write down what I'm pretty sure I did, and then I could finally crochet another round.

And I still haven't made his Tie and arm band because the holidays smacked me in the face.

Together again, as they should be!

(Funny story: My cat tried to kidnap Ingo the other day! When I tried to move my cat off another one of my projects, he cried at me the whole way and hooked his claws into Ingo's coat so Ingo went with him. If my cat didn't get to sleep on my project, he was taking Ingo instead!)

I'm still planning on posting the clothing pattern on Etsy, once I've got it properly typed up.

Link to Emmet's photos, also has a Link to the doll pattern (which is not mine and is free)

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 10 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

9 months later. . .

“Look who finally made it,” Liam teases when he opens his door.

I scoff playfully and hug him after being ushered into the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d be here earlier, but traffic was a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I know.” He waves me off and runs a hand down his dress shirt, smoothing it out. “But I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

I nod and accept the spare key he hands me while slipping into his dress shoes. “Have fun!” I tease when he shrugs on his jacket.

“It’s a business dinner, not a date, Y/N.” He deadpans which makes me laugh and slap his shoulder before he leaves with a final wave and smile.

It’s the end of September and I’m visiting New York for a couple of days since I have some time off before the hockey season begins again.

I’m here to visit Liam— obviously, since I’m staying with him— but also Tara and Sam, who agreed it would be better if I stayed with Liam since they’re apartment is fairly small and their roommate, Quinn, doesn’t know me.

Since Christmas, we’ve only seen each other once, three months ago, at one of my hockey games which Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad came to see after they all collectively moved to New York.

I was happy to see them again, and glad we were once again living in the same time zone, but there was an underlying tension the whole time we hung out because things between Sam and I haven’t been the same ever since Christmas.

While Tara and I are in contact almost daily, Sam and I barely even talk once a week. It’s not for her lack of trying though, it’s because I’ve distanced myself ever since I realized it was hopeless to think the two of us could ever be a thing.

I gave up on her, doing exactly what Tara told me not to do, and I even tried to move on, but that didn’t work out as planned.

I went on a couple of dates here and there, and hooked up with several people, but I just can’t get over Sam even though nowadays we’re barely even friends.

The only reason we could still be considered friends is because of our backstory and because Tara connects us. Other than that, we’re back to the way things were when Sam first returned to Woodsboro, and being like this hurts even more than when she was simply gone.

Those five years were undoubtedly the most painful years of my life, but now everything is so much worse. I thought I’d gotten Sam back, I thought we could finally be something, but all of that hope shattered as soon as she said she’d never do long distance. She also never acknowledged how Richie exposed my feelings for her, which makes it abundantly clear that she’d rather just forget about it and move on as friends.

I know she doesn’t owe me anything and she’s been trying to stay in contact as best as she can, but I’m just too hurt to let her back in and accept her as just a friend.

I know how stupid that sounds and it’s not my intention to hurt her by keeping my distance, but it’s just how I cope with everything.

With a sigh I enter Liam’s apartment properly and let out an impressed whistle when I realize just how big and luxurious it actually is. When he sent me his address and I saw that it was on the upper west side, I was surprised because living here is usually reserved for the rich and famous, but he explained that his company owns the building and rents its apartments to their employees for a reasonable price.

That doesn’t make it any less luxurious though, and when I take a look in the bathroom and see a rain shower with a view of the twinkling city outside I make a mental note to use it as soon as possible.

Right now, I’m hungry though, so I raid Liam’s fridge, helping myself to a smoothie and some leftover chocolate cake that he has for some reason.

The dinner he’s at right now wasn’t planned, it was a last minute thing his boss organized, but I’m not complaining. Yes, we were supposed to do something together tonight, but I’ll just check and see if Sam and Tara are free instead.

We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow for lunch, but I don’t see why I can’t stop by their place tonight, too.

I pull out my phone and call Tara after gulping down some of my smoothie. She doesn’t answer, so I reluctantly call Sam next.

Tara’s probably in the shower or something. . . God knows she loves to take long ass showers. When she lived with me my water bill almost doubled.

Sam picks up after two rings which is not surprising since I can’t remember the last time I called her instead of the other way around.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” Her concerned voice makes my stomach twist and I hate how she thinks something’s wrong because I’m calling her instead of Tara.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. Just got into the city and was wondering if I could stop by your place for some dinner since Liam was called into work,” I say.

The sound of traffic on Sam’s end of the line makes me realize she’s not home and I think calling might have been a mistake, but she immediately agrees. “Of course. I’ll text you the address again. I’m not home yet because I just got out of therapy, but Tara and Quinn should be home.“

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence, but Sam is quick to break it by saying, “Alright then. See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.” I hang up and exhale slowly.

It’s just Sam, Y/N. Pull yourself together. You’re going to go see Tara and Sam, and their roommate, not just Sam.

The two of us haven’t been alone since Christmas eve and I’m not planning on changing that anytime soon.

I finish the piece of cake and throw away the empty smoothie bottle before grabbing a zip up hoodie from my bag and heading out of the apartment.

Sam and Tara’s apartment is quite far away, and because I’m not in the mood to call an Uber or take the subway, I take one of the public e scooters standing around, unlocking it with my phone before heading off.

It’s nice getting some fresh air after being cooped up in my car for hours and not even fifteen minutes later I’m in front of the building Sam sent me the address of.

I get off the scooter and park it around the corner, making my way inside the building after getting buzzed in by some random person.

Compared to Liam’s building, this place is a dump, but it seems relatively safe and affordable, so who am I to judge. This is New York after all.

I head up the stairs and knock on the door of Sam and Tara’s apartment, my heart rate picking up with each second that passes until the door finally opens.

Having expected Sam or Tara, I’m surprised when a stranger greets me. It’s a red haired girl, around Tara’s age, with a round face and gray eyes. She’s dressed in only a robe and I momentarily avert my eyes when she reties it around her waist.

“Hi, you must be Quinn,” I say, raising my hand in greeting.

Quinn’s eyes rake over me and she smirks before her eyes snap back up to mine. “Yeah, and you’re Y/N, right?”

I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her hungry gaze. “The one and only,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Quinn’s face softens ever so slightly and her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “So I heard. . . You’re here to see Sam and Tara?” she guesses and when I nod again, she opens the door properly and invites me inside.

“Sam should be here any minute, but Tara is out,” she says.

I frown. “She’s out? Sam said she’d be here.”

Quinn smiles apologetically and goes to say something but then a man’s voice from a nearby room calls for her. “Babe? You coming back or what?”

My eyes widen and I feel heat rushing into my cheeks. That’s why she’s only wearing a robe. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. . . interrupt you and your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Quinn laughs as if the idea is ridiculous and waves me off. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just hooking up.” She eyes me once again with that lustful look in her eyes and bites her lip seductively, squeezing my biceps. “You could join us if you want. The more the merrier, am I right?”

I squirm and pull my arm out of her grasp with an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

God, what’s up with her?

I want to ask about Tara’s whereabouts again when the door behind us opens.

My eyes instantly lock with Sam’s and even though I’m nervous to see her again, I’m also relieved she’s here to distract Quinn from making a move on me again.

“Y/N. . .” She hugs me after a moment’s hesitation before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up on the hook next to the door. “I see you’ve already met Quinn.”

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and avoid looking at the aforementioned roommate. “Mhmm.”

Quinn, having absolutely no shame whatsoever, touches my arm again. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was such a snack, Sam?”

Oh lord. . .

My face heats up again, but Sam is quick to come to my rescue. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow before stepping in between Quinn and me which forces the redhead to let go of me.

“Right. I forgot you don’t like to share.” Quinn laughs, unbothered and turns to head into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that. I know she can be a bit much sometimes.” Sam glances at me over her shoulder, and I wave her off nervously.

“It’s okay.“

She turns as soon as Quinn is out of sight and I hold my breath at how close she is.

She looks as beautiful as ever even though she looks tired and I curse my heart for flipping in my chest when she picks a piece of lint off my shoulder.

The white off-shoulder top she’s wearing over her tank top looks incredible on her and I have to force myself not to look at her exposed neck and collar bones too much, a task that is incredibly hard because she’s wearing the necklace I gave her for Christmas.

It glints in the low light and even though the knowledge that she still wears it makes my insides melt, it also serves as a reminder why I’ve been keeping my distance.

Don’t get hurt again, Y/N.

I swallow thickly and lean back a little, not missing the way confusion and hurt flashes across Sam’s face before she clears her throat and steps back.

She looks anywhere but at me before asking Quinn, “Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn, who was just about to open a bottle of wine in the kitchen turns with a sheepish smile. “Uh, don’t be mad. . .”

I frown and follow Sam into the kitchen.

“Why would I be mad?” Sam asks and the way Quinn winces slightly at her tone makes my lips twitch with amusement.

“Because you get mad,” she says and I can’t help but agree silently.

Sam does have a temper, however I’m not sure why she’d be mad when Quinn tells her where Tara is as long as she’s not alone.

“Babe?” The guy from what I’m assuming is Quinn’s bedroom calls for her again which makes Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the question of Tara’s whereabouts momentarily forgotten.

“Is that Paul?” she asks and Quinn cringes when the guy shouts, “Who the fuck is Paul?”

“Life, I have found,” she says quietly with an innocent shrug, “is all about variety.”

This time I can’t help but smile properly, and Sam chuckles softly, too.

“So, uh, where’s Tara?” she asks after a moment which makes Quinn sigh helplessly, the wine on the counter forgotten as she toys with the bottle opener in her hands.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party.”

Huh. I didn’t think Tara’d be one to enjoy frat parties but I guess she’s young and wants to try everything now that she’s in a new city and in college.

Sam doesn’t seem to agree though and it’s clear why Quinn was scared of her getting mad when she exclaims, “What? I begged her not to go to that!”

I want to tell her that it’s just a party, but she seems to haver her reasons why she doesn’t want Tara there, so I stay quiet.

Quinn sighs again. “And we’ve now arrived at mad. . .”

I try my best not to smile— Quinn’s actually pretty funny now that she’s not trying to sleep with me— and focus on Sam instead.

She seems ready to explode, but gathers herself by taking a deep breath and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she deflates and when she asks, “Do you know if she at least took her taser?” she sounds more worried than mad.

A taser?

Quinn grabs the wine off the counter and pushes the cork screw into the cork before twisting it and opening the bottle. “I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” she says hesitantly which makes Sam huff in frustration and brush past me back to the front door where she grabs a taser from a dresser.

I follow her, knowing she’s going to go back out to look for Tara, and Quinn follows me with the now open bottle of wine in hand, ready to return to her not-boyfriend.

Sam eyes the taser for a moment, her jaw working and I move around her to grab her jacket off the hook for her.

Right as I reach for it though, Quinn says something that makes me freeze. “Oohh. Is cute boy shirtless again?”

My head snaps around so fast, it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap, and my eyes instantly land on what, or rather who, Quinn and Sam are looking at through the window. There’s a shirtless guy, seemingly my age or a couple years older in the apartment right across from us.

I have to admit, he is cute with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular upper body, and I even smile when Quinn’s not-boyfriend asks, “Who’s cute boy, babe?” and Quinn cringes, replying, “Always you. . . sweetie.” But that smile is quickly wiped off my face when I see the way Sam is looking at him.

Her eyes are soft and there’s something like longing written all over her face which feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.

This is why I keep my distance. . . She’s not mine and if she likes this cute boy, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m just hurt and I’m once again reminded to keep my heart guarded.

But then Sam’s eyes snap to me and her face instantly falls and something like guilt flickers across her eyes, but I don’t dwell on it and avert my own eyes, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with Liam’s key in the pocket of my hoodie.

“You guys have been checking each other out for months, why don’t you just talk to him?” Quinn asks softly, and once again, it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Sam turns away from the window and I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “Because. . .” Her voice falters ever so slightly before going on. “That right there is all the romantic interaction I’m ready for.”

Once again a reminder that she’s not over Richie, and definitely not into me. . .

Out of the corner of my eye I see Quinn shrug and when Sam says, “I’m going to find Tara, you coming with me, Y/N?” I nod wordlessly without meeting her eye, and follow her out of the apartment after returning Quinn’s awkward wave.

I’m doing exactly what I planned on avoiding, which is being alone with Sam, but my worry for her going out alone outweighs my need to keep my distance, so I silently follow her down the stairs and outside where she pulls out her phone to look up the directions to the frat house.

I forgot you don’t like to share. . .

Quinn’s words suddenly echo through my mind and I frown because Sam and I obviously aren’t a thing, but before I can dwell on it too long, Sam nudges me and starts walking. “Come on, let’s go. The frat house isn’t too far from here, so we can walk.”

I wordlessly fall into step beside her, intent on not talking about what just happened, but she seems to have other plans because after we cross the street she turns to me with furrowed eyebrows and says, “You know, Danny and I aren’t a thing or anything. . .”

“What?” I know she probably means cute boy, but I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I thought they only knew each other because they live across from each other, but it seems as though they know each other better than that. Also, the fact that Sam is trying to deny that something is going on between them makes me believe there actually is something going.

Which is fine. . . Totally fine. She’s an adult and she can make her own choices.

“Y-you know,” she stutters. “The guy, Cute Boy, he and I, we’re not a thing. Not really— I mean we’re just—“

I stop dead in my tracks and raise a hand which makes her shut up and stop walking as well. “Why are you telling me this?”

She seems taken aback by the harshness of my tone and frowns, so I sigh and add, “I mean, I don’t tell you anything about my love life, so why are you telling me about yours?”

Sam’s frown deepens. “I just— I thought you should know— I mean. . . You’re my best friend.”

I scoff and before I can stop myself I say, “Am I though?”

“What?”

“Your best friend?” I clarify, ignoring how crushed she looks at the implication of my words. “We’ve barely spoken in nine months.”

“And whose fault is that?” she snaps back defensively. She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with a challenging glare.

I know she’s not actually mad, she’s just hurt and she’s put up her guard, so I deflate a little.

She’s right, it’s my fault we haven’t really talked since Christmas, but I’m not about to spill the beans and tell her why.

“Look,” I say softly. “Let’s not get into this now.”

“Why not?” she asks harshly. “Because you can’t just hang up if it gets too much?”

I cringe at that because lately every time she calls and asks what’s wrong I usually come up with an excuse to hang up or ignore her texts.

I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just find Tara okay, we can get into this tomorrow.”

Sam bites the inside of her cheek and the storm of emotions in her eyes makes me believe she’s about to disagree, but then she huffs and turns around to continue leading our way to the frat house.

Long story short, at the party, Sam ends up tasing a guy who tried to drag Tara upstairs in the balls which in turn leads to Tara storming out with the rest of us— Mindy, her girlfriend Anika, Chad, Chad’s roommate Ethan, Sam, and me— hot on her heels.

“Tara, will you stop?” Sam says, sounding irritated as Tara continues to dash ahead. She’s short and has asthma, so she’s not going all too fast, but still. . .

She has yet to realize I’m also here, but I don’t want to get in the middle of what’s about to go down between her and Sam, so I stay back with the others, the twins having greeted me with quick hugs a moment ago before officially introducing me to Anika and Ethan.

“I cannot believe you did that! You embarrassed me!” Tara shouts over her shoulder.

“That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you,” Sam argues and even though she’s right, that guy was really sleazy, she didn’t actually have to tase him. Also it looked like Chad had it covered, but I’m not about to get in the middle of this.

“So?” Tara stops abruptly and turns on her heels to face Sam.

The rest of us come to a halt a safe distance away, but I raise my eyebrows at what Tara just said.

“So?” Sam echoes incredulously, voicing my exact thoughts, but Tara is not having it.

“If I want to hook up with an asshole that’s my decision!” she shouts and even though she’s right, it is her decision, I don’t like the way she’s talking to Sam like she did something wrong by trying to protect her.

Sam tenses and I know what Tara just said hit a nerve, but she stays calm and simply nods dismissively. “Okay. . .”

Tara doesn’t seem to be done just yet though because she goes on, “I mean, you’re out of my life for five years and then you can’t leave me alone for five minutes.”

Yikes. She’s right, but. . . yikes.

“Because you’re not dealing with what happened to us,” Sam shoots back, her voice relatively calm. “Have you even gone to see the counselor once?”

“No, I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

I sigh and share at look with Chad and Mindy who seem to be hating this just as much as me, if not even more because it sounds like this isn’t the first time the two sisters have been at each other’s throats.

Anika and Ethan just look uncomfortable and if it weren’t for the fight I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look, what with Ethan wearing Anika’s pumpkin hat and Anika wearing Ethan’s ridiculous cardboard helmet that matches his handcrafted chest plate.

“Hey, guys, come on,” Chad tries to step in at one point when Tara accuses Sam of living in the past, but he’s straight up ignored and I shoot him a pitiful look when our eyes meet.

They continue bickering, and even though I agree with Tara that we shouldn’t let something that happened to us for three days define the rest of our lives, I don’t like how she puts Sam on the spot in front of everyone by asking why she’s in New York with the rest of them.

After what feels like hours, they finally stop which is when, out of nowhere, a girl walking by yells, “Murderer!” and throws her drink at Sam.

Sam recoils and chaos erupts. There’s shouting and cursing, and a bunch of accusations thrown at Sam about God knows what, and I’m barely fast enough to rush forward and wrap my arms around her stomach from behind to prevent her from lunging at the girl who threw her drink at her.

Everything is over in a blur and before we know it the grill and her friends have left and the people who stopped and stood around to watch are moving on as though nothing happened.

I let go of Sam as soon as I’m sure she won’t do anything reckless again and step back, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Chad is also holding back Tara.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, but no one answers and Sam even looks away as though she’s ashamed of something.

“Let’s just go.” Tara sighs and turns to leave, grabbing Anika’s and Chad’s arm.

Mindy frowns but agrees and is quick to follow them, leaving Ethan behind with me and Sam, who is currently trying to wring out her shirt.

“Hey, I. . . I have tissues if you want tissues,” Ethan offers kindly, pulling some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Sam.

She wordlessly takes them and Ethan awkwardly looks between the two of us for a moment, obviously not knowing what else to do before hurrying after the others.

What an odd kid.

Sam dabs at her neck and hair where most of the drink hit her and she’s about to brush past me to follow the others as well, but I step in front of her and gently touch her forearm.

“Wait.”

Defeated brown eyes find mine, and the way she deflates when looking at me breaks my heart.

I have no idea what that girl and her friends meant when they called her a murderer and when they said she “knows what she did”, but now’s not the time to ask about it.

I take the used tissues from Sam and momentarily stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans so I have my hands free to unzip and take off my hoodie.

“Here, take this.” I hold it out to Sam, who simply eyes it with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and put this on. I know how you hate it when clothes stick to you.” I wiggled the hoodie a little and raise an eyebrow until she sighs and takes it.

When we were kids I found out how she hates wearing wet clothes after pushing her into our pool after school once.

She wasn’t mad at first because it was summer and we both really needed to cool off, but then she got out of the water and her mood immediately turned sour.

She never explained why, but I knew it was because of her clothes clinging to her, so I never pushed her into the water again unless she was wearing a bikini or swimsuit.

“Thank you.” Sam’s small voice brings me back to reality and when I look up again I see she’s already changed into my hoodie. Her shirt is clutched between her fingers to the point where her knuckles are turning white, but I don’t comment on it.

She’s humiliated, sad, angry, and embarrassed, so all I say is, “You’re welcome,” before gesturing for her to lead the way and follow the others.

She lowers her chin in silent thanks again and starts walking, and I follow her after quickly darting over to one of the nearby trash cans and disposing of the tissues.

What a night. . . Maybe I should have stayed at Liam’s and watched some TV.

_______________________________________________

We’re in New York, people! And Ghostface is right around the corner. . .

Poor Sam, getting a drink thrown on her, but the way she clapped back at reader on their way to the party? Damn. . .

And Tara hasn’t even acknowledged reader yet hahah but it’s okay, they’ll talk in the next part.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[m00nkissedlover]

hello hello! just wanted to say how amazing your works are and im such a sucker for your leona fics the most (heuheueh ☺️)

was wondering if i could req a fluff fic for riddle this time around ? (id request for a leona but maybe another time hihi 💓) ur more than free to get creative with this one :))) take ur time as there is no rush <3 have a good day ahead ! 🍰

・｡rules 📚

you've ordered: a honey lemon tart! enjoy!

"can you settle down my soul?"

riddle rosehearts x reader | word count: 820 words

summary: in which you get riddle to relax a little📚

warnings: none!

note: my first ever request!! thank you so much @linlinmoon for requesting this fic, i hope it's to your liking. 🫶🏾 also, i don't center riddle's whole personality around being strict and a rule follower. he obviously has a more complex character than this, but for this little blurb, i just wrote whatever. (i'm genuinely sorry if this sucks T-T)

riddle was stickler for rules. it was the only reason why the heartslabyul dorm hadn't burned down yet. and as much as the dorm's inhabitants hated to admit it, some of these rules actually made sense, taking the members health into account for instance. but some were just plain ridiculous.

you, on the other hand, were a free spirit. you didn't like being tied down by rules, unless there was legitimate reason for them. having to hear ace and deuce (mainly ace) complain about the ridiculous things riddle had them do just because it was "the queen's rules" made you thank the great seven that you were in ramshackle.

because of these reasons, people couldn't believe that you had accepted riddle's feelings and made him your boyfriend. "rules-are-the-crux-of-my-life" and "rules-can-suck-my-wand" were together? like....together together?? they were absolutely floored when they saw you press a kiss to riddle's cheek before class that day, completely baffled at seeing riddle's face get so red for a reason other than pure anger.

like they say: opposites attract.

it was the day after a big exam and you wanted to give riddle a little surprise to help him relax. he'd never admit it, but you knew the redheaded housewarden was more than exhausted from staying up night after night to cram as much information into his brain as he could.

as you saw him walking down the hall, you excitedly creeped up behind him, covering his eyes with your hands.

"guess who?" you whispered, a shiver running down riddle's spine.

"i would guess floyd, but he's much taller and would call me goldfish...so it has to be you, y/n." he said, placing his hands over yours to pull them away from his eyes.

"are you free later today?" you hummed, playfully bumping riddle's hip with yours as you two walked.

he let out a yelp of surprise, playfully scolding you. "mhm. why, if may i ask?"

"well, i just wanna hang out with my boyfriend from time to time." you laughed, riddle grabbing your arm and stopping you from walking. "what's the matter?"

"your tie's crooked..." he murmured, shaking his head. "one must always look presentable."

"you and your rules." you muttered, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "i'll see you at 8:00?"

riddle's cheeks flushed once again, his annoyed expression coming off nothing more than flustered. "i'll think about it."

it was now 8:15 pm. classes had long since ended and you were currently waiting for riddle. where he had gone off to was anyone's guess.

"i'll just wait a few more minutes..." you told yourself, taking out a book from your bag to read.

1 minute passed...2 minutes...5 minutes...until-

"y/n? y/n, wake up." you felt yourself being shaken out of your little nap, your eyes blinking away sleep.

"hm? riddle, is that you?" you murmured, sitting up and stretching.

"i'm so sorry i kept you waiting. the boys didn't take care of the flamingos properly today, so i had to oversee them and make sure they wore pink." another one of those ridiculous rules.

"it's alright. we still have time to take a walk in the garden." you suggested, riddle happily agreeing.

you and riddle were now walking in the school garden, hand in hand. you'd made some lemonade for yourself earlier that day, now sharing some with your boyfriend.

"y/n?"

"hm?" you turned your attention back to riddle, who was suspiciously eyeing the tumbler of lemonade.

"did you put...honey in this, by chance?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"well, yeah. i think it tastes better with honey." you explained, obviously knowing his reasoning for asking.

riddle put the glass down immediately, a look of horror on his face.

"no! that's against the rules! rule number 256: no drinking honey-sweetened lemonade after-mph!"

you silenced his panic with a soft kiss, your hands gently cradling his possibly rose red face. your prediction was proven correct when you pulled away and saw just how red his cheeks were.

"riddle, you'll stress yourself to death with all these rules. sometimes, you just need to relax." you told him, the housewarden's frowning and flustered face making your heart warm.

"i know. it's just-"

"it's just nothing. you know i don't like seeing you all stressed and agitated. will you please just relax? for me?" you hummed, cupping his cheek in your hand.

riddle let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. he really was trying to tone it down, but he couldn't help it. it was in his nature.

"from now on, i'll try to be more lax, unless it's completely necessary." riddle agreed, taking a sip of the lemonade you made.

"note to self: make riddle more honey-sweetened lemonade." you teased, riddle rolling his eyes before quickly (and shyly) pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"you're lucky...that i love you..."

"i love you too, my rose red rule book ."📚

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[tales-of-wocdes]

Mc going inside the kitchen on their own just holding up an empty bowl for more food like a sad little orphan they are and havard finding them sitting on top of the kitchen counter fed by a dozen or so different staff who coo at them and complain for them to eat more so they aren't just skin and bone like a group of mother hens, distant aunt's and uncles.

And good heavens! when did the twins appear here too? Stop feeding them so much sugar sweets! do you all know how hard it is to bath and put to bed a kid with a sugar rush?!

Just like you practiced... You sneak into kitchens with your empty bowl. It is the middle of the day which is perfect for your purposes.

Oh, someone is already noticing you! You have to hurry, the woman is coming over.

So you sit on the floor, and hold out your bowl. You make your eyes as large as possible. Just like Lexia taught you. She said, you are very good at looking pitiful... not sure what that means but your eyes are apparently good.

You can already see the woman's steps falter for a moment. Then she doubles her speed.

It's working!

You barely have time to process what happens. "No sitting on the floor in my kitchen, you little brat!" She says, while scooping you up, and plopping you down to sit on the counter. "You!" She points at a young man, and grabs your bowl at the same time. "Get the wyvern stew." She throws your bowl at the man who rushes off to a huge pot on the fire that smells really good.

The woman spins around and inspects you. "Look at you, all skin and bones. What has Havard been feeding you, brat? You need meat on those bones." The woman muttered.

-----------------------------------------------

Havard was looking for MC who was not at their room. Having asked Lexia via the communicator pin, he was now heading to the kitchen.

He arrived to find a scene that made him stop to watch the chaos. MC was sitting on the counter, stuffing their face with the help of several cooks where their own hands failed. Bruna, the head cook, loudly complained about the state MC was in between making sure the child was chewing properly and spoon-feeding MC... was that wyvern stew?

"All those ancients and can't even cure a little brat's hands... What are they good for then?" She wiped MC's mouth. "Is that good?" MC nodded, licking their lips.

"Good." Bruna tapped a cook cooing at MC on the shoulder. "Bring some of that glowberry pudding we made earlier. That should be easy to eat for dessert." She gestured towards a massive bowl full of faintly glowing pudding. MC perked up trying to see, but was distracted by a hand holding out a massive cookie that needed eating.

The cook rushed off to get some pudding. Havard could swear that there was already a clear hole in the massive pudding pile...

Bruna grabbed another cook by the hand, stopping them from giving MC a cup of something steaming. "That's emberoot juice! You want the brat to not taste anything for the week? Get something milder. Frostmelon or moonmoss." Bruna turned back to MC, seeing the cookie. "Or milk. Get milk."

"You know... I have been watching it happen and I still have no idea how the kid keeps eating." Havard glanced tot the side to find Lexia watching the scene, eating her owl bowl of stew. "It's a wonder the kid hasn't burst open yet."

Havard did observe that every cook wanted to feed MC something... and was succeeding at least when Bruna did not stop them.

"Also, look there." Lexia said and pointed.

Under the pudding table, a pair of small hands were holding out two empty bowls... The cooks pretended not to notice aside from the one who grabbed the bowls, filled them with pudding and slid them under the table.

"The twins?" Havard asked.

"Yep. Only deserts go under that table. Alessa and Sandor were by three times, but the cooks pretended not to know where the twins were. Got hit with the double puppy eyes early on and have not recovered since."

Havard sighed. He was the head custodian... It was his duty to put a stop to this. They probably already had two kids on a sugar rush, and MC was getting there....

At least MC was eating actual food... He hoped they would not throw up.

Havard decided he would do his duty... after he had a bowl of that stew.

[cyberskulzzz]

rodrick bf hcs!!? 💗🤗

Omg hi pinkie! Thank you for the request,lysm (those are as always not proofread sorry /:)

Boyfriend Rodrick Headcanons

•You‘ll get invited to dinner/family trips each and every time.Rodrick hates it,you adore it more than anything. 

•I feel like Susan will adore you no matter what (unless you really give her a reason not to,midwest reader x rodrick au cough cough). 

•You teach that boy HYGIENE. From properly showering,shaving,to taking care of wavy hair,makeup,makeup removal all that. 

•Sitting on his lap in front of a mirror as you teach him skincare first,then makeup and later that night makeup removal. 

•That causes him to figure he actually ADORES self care,being pampered. 

•You buy him his own little cosmetic bag with patches you sewed on to it,just as a small gift. 

•The type of guy to laugh,crack jokes during sex,at least when you guys are long term and comfortable 

•After school hang outs contain going to buy cds,getting fast food and if its the weekend staying the night at his place (susan wont let you stay on school days),usually cleaning his room first before you feel like you can actually sleep in peace.

•Rodrick does feel a bit embarrassed whenever you clean for him but you know he just doesn’t know any better cause no one taught him how,and its not like he’s unwilling to learn. 

•On days where he has classes longer than you (when he is actually present,his attendance is at like 14%) he lets you wait in his van and reorganize his cds.

•His cds and vinyls are sacred to him,youre the only one allowed to reorganize them. 

•He owns a small black basket where all his cds are in cause he refuses to get a cd folder,but then again he doesn’t want them to fly around his van while driving. 

•Bad at losing,wether that is playing video or board games,he’s a sore loser. 

•Im projecting on this one but if youre a tim burton girly and show him the movies,I feel like he’d secretly ADORE corpse bride. 

•Loves when you cook but will be fully honest if he doesn’t like something,even just on accident.This will probably result in an argument. 

•He‘d prefer junk food anyways but he gets the whole healthy food thing too. 

•If youre a trinket gal he will buy a happy meal just so you can put the toy on your shelf. 

•Loves to gossip with you,as soon as he sees you and your girl friends whispering in class he‘s listening in or waiting for you to pass him a note. 

•Burns you cds every anniversary 

•Hates taking pictures but loves the spontaneity of photo booths. 

•Has lots of pictures and polariods of you and the band around his room. 

•I feel like he’d like smells a lot,as in he’s really attracted to your scent. 

•Will ask you what perfume you use,you tell him you‘ll find one he’d like for himself. 

•Loves making vision boards on new years eve with you cause that guy dreams big,so he makes a music tour themed one. 

•The type of boyfriend to buy anything from the store that has your special interest on it,or a food you mentioned once. 

•Susan has your schedule hung up besides Rodrick‘s,which she wrote down neatly and with doodles,so Rodrick remembers what you have going on. 

•He looks at it like once a month when your over and is like 'oh you had that going on how’d that go?‘

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 16: I Am Broken

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; dehumanization; beginnings of an anxiety attack, though it's not labeled as such; some negative self-talk (13)

Author's Note: Ok... one more then we'll get into 13 starting to spill the beans. She'll be ok - Simon's there now! I think I'm going to pause on 13's story for a bit, though. I've got things brewing about other OCs so I'm gonna get started on their stories uwu <3

When I open my eyes again... my head is still on Simon's lap. I adjust carefully so I can look up at him. His eyes are closed and his head is resting on the back of the couch.

"Simon," I call to him softly. "Hey," I say a bit louder and poke the center of his chest.

His lashes flutter and he opens his eyes. With a groan, he tilts his head to look down at me.

"What's wrong?" he asks in a voice rough with sleep.

"The way you're sleeping, mostly. C'mon. We should both go to bed."

As I sit up Simon's hand snakes around my waist, but over his blanket.

"No," he mumbles, "stay here."

What the hell is he on about? Damn, he needs more sleep.

"Simon," I call to him louder. "Wake up."

I reach out and gently poke his cheek through his mask. His eyes open wide at the contact and his breathing gets heavier. Slowly, with a shocked expression of my own, I slowly pull my hand away from his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to... freak you out. You ok?" I ask with a gentle voice.

"Fine," he says, shaking his head then letting out a heavy sigh. "Just not used to people touching my face."

"Right. Fair enough," I agree then get up from the couch to make my way to my room.

The smell of pancakes cooking wakes me in the morning. As I roll to get out of bed, though, I nearly roll on to Selene. She yawns at my sudden intrusion then gets up to stretch.

"Good morning to you too." I smile at her then run my hand over her back and up her tail, causing a small chirp to leave her. "I smell pancakes... but do you think your dad is making more bacon too?"

She blinks slowly at me in response and I give her a quiet laugh then truly make my way out of bed. When I reach the kitchen I pause in the archway for a moment.

Johnny's here. Making breakfast. And Simon's nowhere to be seen.

"Lass! Good morning! Simon had to run to grab a few things to make sure all five of us would be fed properly today," he chuckles then yawns. "I knew he'd call me over early so I showed up a few hours early. Hope you don't mind?"

"Not my house," I shrug and step up to the counter I continue to sit on while Simon cooks.

"Isn't it?" Johnny asks with a smile as his focus returns to the pancakes.

Unsure what he means by that, I hop on the counter and change the subject.

"So... what are the other two like?"

"Other two? Oh, you mean Cap and Kyle? Cap's a bit of a, uh," he leans towards me, like he's sharing a secret, "workaholic. I'll have to make some strong coffee all day to make sure he stays awake," he chuckles then straightens. "Kyle is a secret trouble maker, but he's a sweet heart. Would adopt and love all the kittens in the world, if given the chance, I think."

"What do you mean 'secret trouble maker'?" I push with an eyebrow raised.

"He's not as open about his chaotic nature as I am," Johnny says with a wink.

I nod, accepting his answer and glance around the kitchen. The kitchen feels... weird... without Simon here.

"Missing him?" Johnny asks suddenly with his eyes on the pancakes but a knowing smile on his face.

"Who?"

"Your alpha. Who else?" he asks with a laugh.

"My... hm. Well, is he, though? We haven't really... discussed any of that," I admit with a slight frown.

"You knew who I meant, though." He's got this smug look on his face, like he's just outwitted someone.

"Johnny, besides you, Simon's the only person I've actually met in the area," I remind him flatly.

Johnny's smug looks falters.

"True. Didn't think about that. I wanna go back to what you said, though. Haven't discussed what?"

"Him officially being my alpha and all that. I tried to initiate the conversation last night but I mentioned-"

My mouth snaps shut, remembering Simon's reaction to how Salvation handled the heats of the omegas they care for.

"I mentioned some things about Salvation and heats, but he... didn't take it well. Sliced his finger and just seemed so angry," I explain with a frown. "After we cleaned up the cut and I banaged it, he told me that all three of you would be here today. That all of you would listen to my story."

He stays silent for a while, removing pancakes from the pan and adding new batter.

"I won't ask for specifics. I'm sure I'll hear about it at some point, but, lass." He turns to me fully. The expression on his face reminds me of a puppy. "We're here for you. All of us - me, Cap, Kyle, and epsecially Simon. And there will be more on that list when you're ready."

Part of me wants to argue, but the rest of me just can't deny the adorable face he's making. So I sigh and nod my head.

"I appreciate it. I don't understand why that needs to be said, but I do appreciate it," I tell him softly and pick at the hem of the shirt of Simon's that I wore to bed last night.

"What's wrong, 13?" Simon says from the front door.

I can't see him and I can't smell him, but that was definitely his voice. Johnny smiles at me and nods in that direction so I slide off the counter and make my way to the front door.

There's multiple grocery bags hanging off of both of Simon's arms and I have to supress a laugh at the sight of him.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice serious.

"Nothing. Was just talking to Johnny. Let me take a few bags," I insist as I reach for his left arm.

"It'll put me off balance. I've got it," he says as he pulls his arm away. "Thank you, though," he adds like it's an after thought.

Then he shoos me to the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen. When he's done putting away the groceries, he joins me.

"Why did you think something was wrong?" I ask immediately from underneath the blanket he let me use last night.

"I could smell your distress," he says simply as he motions for me to come closer.

Confused, I slide closer and lay on my back with my head on his lap.

"You could... smell- I wasn't distressed, though." I frown up at him as his hand begins smoothing my hair back.

"You can't smell anything. Can you?" he asks softly.

"I can smell the pancakes just fine."

"I mean others' scents. You can't smell others. At least not well."

I consider what he's asking. It took being right up to him or wearing his clothes for me to know what he smelled like. Cinnamon and cedar, I can smell it now. But I don't know what Johnny smells like. And I couldn't tell him what anyone else smells like either.

"13," he calls to me and gently turns my head so I look directly at him. "What's going through your head?"

"I'm broken," I say softly. "I always knew I was, but... you're right. I can't smell anyone. I can only smell you if I'm close, like right now, or wearing something that you give me. I don't know what Johnny smells like-"

"Take a deep breath. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Do it with me," he instructs and begins doing so.

My eyes prick with tears but I follow his lead. When my eyes no longer hurt and my chest doesn't feel like there's cement in it, he speaks again.

"You're not broken, sweetheart. You've just been through things; a lot of things, I'm sure. Those things have not been kind to you. But I'm here to help you now. I'm here," he assures me, his hand still gently gliding over my hair. "Why you don't take a nap while we wait for the others? I'll stay right here with you, if you want."

His offer is tempting, but doesn't he have things he needs to do before Kyle and 'Cap' arrive?

"I think I'd rather shower then just... exist on the couch for a while. Until they get here. Selene can keep me company when I come back out."

Simon studies me for a moment and lets out a heavy breath.

"Alright, but if I detect even a hint of your distress, I'm either kicking down whichever door or coming back out here and-"

"Are you about to threaten me, the distressed omega?" I ask with a small smile.

"Yes," he nods. "I'm threatening you with being held and comforted."

Oh. That's... a different feeling. Set that aside for later, though...

For now I just get up, leaving the balnket on the couch, and make my way back to my room to gather clothes. I catch a glimpse of Johnny in the kitchen on my way through the house. He looks... so sad, but his focus is on the pancakes.

What I went through when I was with Salvation... was it really that bad?

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod

[areyouwell]

In Tuto Esse

Ch.4

Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Warnings: None

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Word Count: 14k

A/N: so this was ready sooner than i thought it would be. but then again if i did everything i wanted to in this chapter it would probably be one of the longest ones i've ever written soooooo sometimes you just gotta snap the chapter plans in two <3

Taglist: @speeedybaby @ltristessedureratoujours @froggieeez @ayamenimthiriel @daddyslittlevillain @chubbyhedgehog @marifilue @galacticglitterglue @salemslostwitch @m1cky-y-y

What an absolute whirlwind the last few days had been. The last few weeks, Logan supposed as he fixed himself a strong cup of coffee, savouring the brief moment of silence, listening to the sound of boiling water sloshing into the mug, the comforting, burnt aroma rising like smoke from the beverage. He’d taken you back. Of course he had. How could he not? You’d taken a bullet for a child you didn’t even know. You’d saved her life at the expense of your own. Well, almost. That was still up for debate as you currently lay motionless beneath the school, hooked up to various machinery to make sure you didn’t actually give your life for little Wildling, despite Jean’s protests.

“How did you find us?” He asked frantically, cradling your limp body against his chest as he all but ran with you to the Blackbird, Wildling a few steps ahead, turning around now and then to make sure he was following. Jean had fallen into step next to him, glancing down from your pale form to Logan’s panic-stricken distraught with no small degree of suspicion. 

“Charles was keeping tabs on you, knew the moment everything went south. What were you trying to accomplish?” she asked savagely, ducking as she lunged up the ramp and into the hold, waving her hand to send various duffle bags and parafanalia flying to the sides. “And who’s this?” She continued, gesturing to the little girl running around the floor, pushing what she could to the side, as little as it was.

“No clue, we call her Wildling.” Logan panted, setting you down on the steel before instantly cradling the wound in your side. He was losing you. He could hear it in the weakness of your pulse, the frigid feeling of your skin, the pallour of your face. He was losing you.

“We? Who the hell is we?” 

“Us. Me and Alec. We don’t know the kid’s name and we don’t know if she can talk so we call her Wildling now please, help her.” He begged, finally looking from your fading visage up to Jean, his brows creasing in obvious fear. “Please…”

Jean hesitated, once again glancing between the two of you, before crouching down next to your dull hair, her hands hovering over your body and closing her eyes, grimacing slightly as she took in the state of your whittling life. 

“Logan…”

“Don’t.”

“She’s not gonna–”

“Just fuckin’ help her, Jean. Do whatever the hell it is you gotta do, but don’t let her die. Don’t you dare let her die.” He snapped, taking your cold hand in his own, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as if it could bring you back. Grief wrapped its bony claws around his throat, lacerations of loss-borne barbed wire ensnared his heart. He could feel you slipping, like sand through his fingers, he could feel you ebbing away. Fuck.

“There’s a bullet lodged in her gut, and I don’t know if I can pull it out without causing more harm,” Jean explained, Wildling peering at her curiously before scrunching her nose up tightly and bounding over to be back by Logan’s side, looking down at you with hopeless prayers.

“Will she die if it’s left in?” Logan asked, still running his thumb over your knuckles.

“Likely yes. Even if she recovers from the wound, the lead poisoning would kill her.” The redhead continued, not even turning to look as Kitty turned back from her seat pilot’s seat, her eyes widening as she saw just what the hell was going on, too focussed on getting the Blackbird back in the air to listen to the conversation properly.

“Wait… is that–”

“It is,” Jean responded curtly before Kitty could even say your name. 

“And we’re trying to save her because…?”

“Ask Logan.” Once again her words were sharp, before she fell into deep concentration, her fingers flexing slightly as she tried to navigate the bullet from your body, while keeping your body functioning. Logan dully admitted how impressive it was, before his focus was entirely back to you, absently placing a comforting hand on Wildling’s shoulder. You didn’t know the effects you had on the people around you. It was clear to see how oblivious you were to it. And he’d be fucking damned if you died before he could tell you. 

He slowly, hesitantly looked up to where Kitty had placed the jet on autopilot, fully turning in her seat to face him, her gaze curiously expectant. Wildling looked between the two of them, her ears twitching slightly as she sensed the tension in the room. But he didn’t have an explanation for her. He really didn’t. How could he explain that after the last day or so, he’d completely changed his tune? He needed you alive. What for, he didn’t know, but he knew that letting you die here wasn’t an option.

He just didn’t know how to put that into words. 

A sickening crunch caught his attention, dragging his gaze from Kitty back to your wound, where, much to his alarm, incarnadine flowed from your side, swiftly followed by a slick, gore-coated bullet. He wished he could feel relieved. He wished he could feel anything other than deathly fear as the bullet floated from your body to the side, clinking against the ground. But it was out. It was out. Maybe you’d be okay. Maybe you’d survive this. 

Maybe…

“Shit… shit shit!” Jean exclaimed, her eyes screwed tight as she concentrated harder on maintaining your life. “Kitty how far out are we?!” She called back, Logan’s heart racing in his chest. 

“Five minutes, think you can hold her til then?” She shouted back, spinning back to face forward, taking back controls to push the Blackbird to its limits. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he leaned over to cup the cold side of your neck, your pulse barely thumping against his fingertips. 

“C’mon freakshow, you got so much to do. Think of ‘em. Think of those kids, just like you. You gotta help ‘em. Don’t you fucking dare give up now. You gotta fight, Alec. You still got so much fight in you. Use it.” He urged, not particularly caring if you could hear him or not. He knew nothing got you more fired up than injustice. Than the bullshit the MSR put mutants through. If anything would keep you alive, keep you fighting, it was thinking about that. 

‘I’m so tired, Logan…’

Your words rang in his head, repeating like a broken record. You sounded shattered, fragile like glass in his arms, slicing his heart with your words. You’d done so much, suffered so much, and it still wasn’t enough for you. You were so scared of not making a difference that you were willing to risk it all, leave in the dead of night and track down hundreds of mutants alone. 

But you didn’t have to be alone. Not anymore. You’d come to him for help, and somehow you’d wriggled your way through his defences and nestled yourself in his chest. He couldn’t let you go. 

He wouldn’t.

“We’re nearly there. Just hold on for me. Just hold on,” He implored, whispering your name and smoothing your brow with his thumb, Wildling coming up next to him to clumsily repeat the gesture, careful of her claws against your skin. He would have found it endearing if he could focus on anything other than the fact you were dying. 

“Just hold on…”

That was three days ago, and your status has been up in the air ever since. Hank had helped Jean with your recovery, bandaging your wound and in true creepy scientist fashion, acquiring a vial of your blood for studying. Nobody had been permitted to see you, not even him, and it was driving him crazy. Knowing you were a few feet below him, fighting for your life, whilst he was up above, making himself cups of coffee and smoking himself into an early grave. At least, that’s what would happen, if he could die. He’d managed to distract himself well enough, keeping tabs on little Wildling as she settled into her new environment, calmly explaining why scratching up other kids is bad, and playing nicely with them was good. He understood her, possibly more than anyone else possibly could. She had the instincts of an animal, much like him, exhibiting cat-like behaviours when she believed she was being threatened, or someone went a little too far in whatever game they were playing. 

He’d learnt that she could retract her mutation too, but simply chose not to. He’d only seen her without her little ginger tail and pointed canines once, and that was after a fight with one of the other kids where she’d quite badly harmed them. Her guilt forced her to retreat into her new room, pushing down her instincts and hiding her mutation before Logan had to borderline break down the door to get to her. Why oh why the kids’ rooms had locks on them, he’d never understand, but it was heartbreaking in and of itself that she knew how to use it, and understood that it would make her feel safe. How many times had she had to do that in her life?

How many times had you?

“You’re up early…” 

A honeyed voice broke the silence, and Logan looked up from where he’d been staring into his coffee. He turned to the doorway where Jean stood, her hand braced on the wooden frame, looking at him with a gaze softer than he’d ever experienced before. It made his insides twist. 

“Yeah, well, couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged, offering no further explanation. He knew how she felt about having you here, and it didn’t seem to matter how well he retold the story of what happened that night, she never seemed to understand why he’d bring you here. It was a frustrating, repetitive conversation that drove him mad. 

“You haven’t been sleeping at all, Logan. Not since you got back.” She prodded lightly, taking a few steps further into the kitchen, a hand braced loosely on her hip. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged again. “Nothin’ much. Never was a good sleeper.”

Jean narrowed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out because my opinion differs from yours. She’s dangerous, Logan. Extremely dangerous. Did you forget why we went after her in the first place? Did you forget the scenes of those murders? The savagery?” She attempted to explain gently, but her light tone only fuelled his frustration further, his hand tightening around his mug. 

“If she’s so damn dangerous then why did she throw herself in the path of a bullet to save a kid she barely knew?” He countered with gritted teeth. “You don’t know her, Jean. You know what was on that slideshow and that’s it, you don’t–”

“Neither do you. I know it probably feels like you do, but you don’t. You don’t know somebody after spending twenty-four hours with them.” Her brows pinched in infuriating understanding, and not so long ago he would have fallen at her feet with just one of those looks. Now it made him want to punch through walls. 

“We’re not having this conversation again.” He stated curtly, tensing his jaw to stop himself from lashing out. Jean sighed again, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. 

“You know she can’t stay.” Though her words were quiet, they were laced with more venom than he’d expect from her. “She’s a killer, Logan ––a serial killer, in fact. And you brought her to the school. With kids. You brought a serial killer here and expect us to help her out?” He could tell she was getting irate, her tone pitching at the end of her question, leaning both hands against the table as if she could implant the very idea into his brain.

Actually, she probably could. 

“I was a killer too and you took me in.” He stated flatly, and Jean blinked, any frustration in her face ebbing away as she skirted around the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“You were different. You were helping Marie when we found you.”

“Alecto was helping Wildling. How is it different?” He countered, fighting the urge to swipe her hand off his arm, her touch cold, calculated. Almost manipulative. 

“You called her something different on the jet. Her name isn’t Alecto, is it?” She asked, raising a thin brow as she caught him out. 

“The hell does it matter?” He hissed, defensive walls erecting in his mind, cautious of her prodding and poking around his brain. You’d told him your name in confidence ––a whispered word in the dark, like a lover’s farewell. You’d told him your story. Perhaps not all of it, but you’d still found enough trust in him to divulge what you could. He’d be damned if he’d betray your trust like that. 

“It doesn’t, I’m just curious.” Her eyes hardened as she stepped back, removing her hand from his arm. Had she seen? Had she seen what had happened between you? The shared passion beneath the blanket of loneliness. A bubble of secure pleasure created by the yearning to not just survive but to live. Could she sense his shift? The sudden wholeness of his heart. The new protective nature simmering just beneath his calm façade. And if she could, why did she look like she despised it?

“Good. Stay curious. And stay the hell outta my head, Jean. I mean it. Don’t wanna have to tell you again.” He growled, and Jean drew up slightly, her jaw tense, gaze fiery.

“Is that a threat?”

“Does it have to be?” He retorted, blood pumping in his veins as if he was ready to jump into a fight. Never did he imagine having to fight Jean. Never did he think there would be a time when he didn’t crave her attention. When he couldn’t stand being around her. The flip gave him whiplash, and he exhaled all the tension in his bones, raking a hand through his hair. “Sorry, ‘m just real tired. I’ll be alright in a few days.” He breathed, leaning against the counter. 

The tension fled from the room as Jean’s eyes softened, her lips pulling into an understanding smile. “I get it. But don’t take too long. I miss the old you.” She whispered, and Logan’s heart reluctantly skipped a beat. Fuck, he was so confused. He thought he was over this. Thought he’d moved on from her, but now she wasn’t trying to pry into his mind, and it didn’t seem like she was playing games with him. The look in her eyes was one of genuine loss, and it messed with his head. Her hand returned to his arm, and he didn’t feel that same urge to pull away when she squeezed slightly, before turning away to leave him to his thoughts. 

‘I miss the old you.’

The old him. He thought she didn’t like the old him. The version of him that would skip town at a moment’s notice. The version of him that pined after her like a lost puppy, begging for any scrap of attention she’d throw his way. Was it him she missed, or the way he made her feel wanted? The way he made her feel desirable. Was she being genuine, or was she just really fucking good at lying? Christ, this was a nightmare. 

And on top of everything else, he still didn’t know just what the hell was going on with you and him. Because that was still a conversation that needed to be had. Was that just sex? Or was there something more there? You were extremely hard to read, your guarded expression a constant mask, he never knew what you were thinking. Did you feel what he was feeling? The slight pull at his heart whenever you were near. The gentle curiosity that maybe this could be something? Was that even possible? Could there be something?

Too many questions. Too many damn questions for seven in the morning. The sun had barely risen and his head had already been fucked with. Usually, the ‘old him’ would have just left. Stolen Scott’s bike and headed out god knows where for god knows how long. The freedom that came with not giving a damn. But now he did. And it scared the fuck out of him. But wasn’t that the him that Jean missed? 

Logan groaned against the oncoming headache throbbing just behind his eyes. This was too complicated. Everything was too damn complicated. Why did you have to waltz into his life? With your endless fire and snippy attitude. Your yearning for freedom born of tragedy. Why oh why did you have to go ask him for help? Couldn’t you have asked Scott? Or Ororo? Why did it have to be him? Why did you get him mixed up in this twisted web of blood-soaked passion? Because he was well and truly stuck, and he couldn’t find the willpower to struggle. 

And like a light in the darkness, Wildling came bounding through the door, leaping onto the table, her tail swishing like a metronome, eyes wide as saucers as she tracked every micro-movement he made. Just like that, his turmoil was shoved to the side, lips quirking in a fond smile as the kid’s ears flickered, her claws scratching into the table’s wooden surface. What did Marie call it? Zoomies? As if this kid didn’t have enough energy, every now and then she’d race through the mansion, bouncing off furniture, ducking and diving under tables and between chair-legs like she was chasing a rat. Usually in the middle of the night, when the rest of the occupants were dead asleep. He’d usually be the one to emerge from his room at the shattering of a vase or breaking of a glass, picking up the pieces and taking her out into the gardens so she could work off some of that energy. 

It was exhausting but adorable, so he did it anyway. 

He raised a brow, slowly placing down his completely untouched mug of coffee, knowing exactly what came next. And like clockwork, Wildling's butt wiggled slightly, before she pounced, claws outstretched, her canines glinting in the lights when her lips split into a feral grin. This had become a well-rehearsed tradition, Logan remaining still until the last possible moment before his arms shot out and caught her in mid-air, caging her against his chest for her to wiggle free. Claws met skin as she laughed in delight, ripping through his shirt as she clawed her way to freedom, sinking her teeth into his bicep. He didn’t mind. It was nothing more than a tickle to him, and if she was enjoying herself, then what was the harm? 

Wildling scrambled up to his shoulders, writhing from his hold as he fought to drag her back down. Her resulting hiss held no heat, her bare feet slipping on the fabric of his singlet in various vain attempts to crawl up onto his head. A fatal mistake. With reflexes she wasn’t expecting, Logan snatched onto her ankle, dragging her from his shoulders to dangle her from his grip, her squeals of delight bouncing off the empty walls of the kitchen, little hands swiping and flailing as she attempted to bend up to latch onto his wrist. He huffed a chuckle when she managed to swing herself up, sinking her claws into his wrist to upright herself. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

An oh so familiar voice shattered the playful atmosphere, both Logan and Wildling whipping their heads to the opposite doorway, his heart stopping in his chest. 

You were here. You were okay. Not only that, but you were walking around freely…

You looked a little worse for wear, your hair mussed and slightly matted, complexion still a little pallid with dark circles contouring your eyes and a white bandage wrapped around the left side of your face, but you were here.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, gently setting Wildling down on the floor, the girl tilting her head as she looked at you, eyes wide with awe. He couldn’t articulate the relief he felt, the overwhelming sense of calm seeing you alive. But you couldn’t possibly be fully healed yet. Your mutation didn’t work like that. How much pain were you currently in just standing, let alone wandering the school’s halls. “Shit are you– do you wanna sit? How’re you–”

“I’m fine, Logan. Well, as fine as I can be with this bullshit on my wrist…” you held up your hand for emphasis, and the very blood in his veins ran cold. He knew what that was. He’d seen that very same technology on the necks of all those mutants held captive.

It was a suppressant. Not a huge one, but enough to slow your mutation to the point you could barely manipulate a single drop of blood. It felt like your insides had been stuffed into a box, held under lock and key. Uncomfortably full without the opportunity for release. Everything felt slow, sluggish, and it was a feeling you knew like the back of your hand. It had taken a lot of deep, calming breaths to stop your heart from beating straight out of your chest when you woke up shackled to a bed, the fucking suppressant clasped around your wrist like a manacle. But you didn’t need your mutation to pick a lock. Just a small enough blade, which luckily, whoever had been looking after you left lying on a small medical table right next to your bed. 

Sometimes the fates really did shine in your favour. But only after shitting in your dinner. 

“The fuck…?” He growled, crossing the kitchen to take your wrist in his hand, turning it over in his palm to examine the bracelet. “Why the fuck would they do this?” He looked from your wrist up to your face, suddenly struck with a bolt of lightning as he saw you completely raw. No makeup, no ebony mask, just you. Your hair hung limp, you looked as if you hadn’t slept in three weeks. 

Holy fuck you were gorgeous. 

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a dangerous serial killer with a thirst for human blood. Surprised it’s taken you this long to realise it,” you offered him a grin that didn’t quite meet your eyes. You looked defeated, that same expression you wore the night everything went wrong when you realised all your hard work may have been for nothing. It burned him to see it. The feeling of the bracelet on your wrist only fueled his barely contained rage. “I’m glad to see you’re both okay,” you whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability, and it took all of Logan’s self-control not to cup the side of your face in comfort. “I didn’t–”

Your eyes flew wide open, words caught in your throat as you snatched your hand away from his, arms locking tight by your sides. It was only when you started hovering a few feet off the ground did it register in his brain that it might not actually be you doing this. He locked his gaze with yours, your brows pinching as you gasped for breath, completely powerless.

“Logan step back. Now.” Jean barked, her eyes fixed on you, her hand outstretched as Scott filed in behind her, fingers poised on his sunglasses as if ready to strike. Logan gaped in utter incomprehensible bafflement. 

“The fuck ‘re you doin’?” He spat, completely ignoring Jean’s command and instead stepping between you and the assailants, blocking whatever beam Scott was ready to unleash. 

“She broke out. She fucking escaped and started wandering around the school. There are fucking kids here, Logan. And now a notorious serial killer is just walking amongst them. How can you not see that?” Scott spat, his other hand clenched into a fist as he prepared himself for whatever fight was about to ensue. 

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? How dangerous can she be with that fuckin’ thing around her wrist? She’s defenseless, Scott!” He barked back, little Wildling bounding up to crouch next to him, her teeth bared in a completely different snarl to the one from before when she was just playing. 

“Yeah? Tell that to Hank who’s currently lying unconscious on the same table she was recovering on.” 

Logan blinked, taking a moment to turn back to you with an incredulous look. But you simply snarled, your eyes as animalistic and feral as Wildling’s. He knew that if you didn’t have that suppressant, they’d both be dead. Or knocked out, at least. 

“Let her go, Jean.” He hissed, his tone taking on a dangerous lilt. 

“Logan–”

“Now.”

Surprisingly enough, after a shared look of suspicion between the two of them, Jean loosened her grip on you, and you crumpled to your knees, breathing hard against the sudden release of tension. Wildling raced to your side, her little hands clutching your arm at while Logan crouched next to you, his own hand settling on your shoulder. 

“Y’alright?” He murmured, wary of the two pairs of eyes watching the interaction between the two of you. You grit your teeth, staring unblinkingly at the floor momentarily, before pushing yourself back up to your feet, viciously shrugging off hit touch and even snatching your arm away from Wildling. 

“I’m fine.” You bit, trying your fucking best not to bend double again in pain, the wound in your side screaming at all the movement. You’d injected yourself with 5mg of morphine to numb the pain before you’d started wandering around, but even that wasn’t quite enough to stem the searing agony from your wound. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Scott accused, taking a step ahead of Jean as if to shield her from whatever attack you may be planning. 

“If you’d just give her a chance to explain–” Logan started before you interjected. 

“I don’t have to explain anything to these chucklefucks. Just get this fucking bracelet off me so I can leave.” Your voice dripped venom, eyes glaring daggers at his two colleagues, and Logan found himself stuck in the middle. He had loyalties to them, of course he did. They’d fought side by side enough times for him to trust the two of them implicitly on the battlefield, but he knew your situation. He knew your story. And if you would just give each other a damn chance, maybe they’d see you the way he did.

Although, maybe not exactly the way he did. Even he didn’t know about that. 

“And the moment we take that off, we’re all dead. So no.” Scott retaliated, and it was a strange feeling for Logan to suddenly be the mediator in an argument, rather than one of the contestants. 

“Everyone just take a breath and calm down.” He breathed, trying it on himself before he expected the others to do it too. Even Wildling took a deep breath, though her tail was still puffed up and flicking like mad, her ears flattened against her hair. And though you didn’t relax your glare, he watched as your muscles stopped tensing so much, your stance straightening out from the slight crouch you’d prepared yourself with. It was only then that Scott took his fingers away from his glasses, folding his arms across his chest. 

“What the hell is this…?” 

You whipped around, your chest constricting as you found yourself cornered, another mutant with bright white hair cautiously entering the kitchen, her perceptive eyes flickering from Jean and Scott, to Logan and you, before her expression dawned with recognition. “Who let her out?!”

“Nobody, she escaped,” Scott explained oh so helpfully. Logan shoved down the instinct to punch him in the face. 

“She escaped?!” Ororo exclaimed in accusation, her eyes narrowing at Logan. “Was this you?”

“How the hell could this’ve been me, you haven’t let me near the damn elevator, let alone in the med bay!” He countered, wary of your increasing heart rate and breathing. He turned to where you’d backed yourself into a corner, your eyes wild with fight or flight. “It’s okay… they’re not gonna hurt ya.”

“Wasn’t Hank supposed to be looking after her?” Ro continued, looking to Jean and Scott for further explanation. 

“Yeah well, he’s currently unconscious in the med bay. Turns out she doesn’t need her mutation to be just as dangerous.” Jean narrowed her eyes as she spoke, a knife rack moving across the counter just as you made a reach for it. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Not gonna hurt me, huh?” You hissed sarcastically, and Logan shot you a withering look that simply said ‘You’re not helping.’

He took a step back toward you as the other took steps forward, hearing your heart thundering in your chest, it broke his own. This was somewhere you were supposed to feel safe, and yet this was the most scared he’d ever seen you. He’d promised you they’d take you in. They’d look after you. He’d look after you. But this was nothing like how he’d imagined these introductions going. However he didn’t know why he’d expected any different. 

Before a stroke of genius came to him in a single moment. 

“Jean, c’mon. You didn’t save her life for nothin’, right?”

That made the room freeze. He guessed she hadn’t told anyone what happened on the jet ––hadn’t told anyone how you were alive because of her. And from the look of betrayal on Scott’s face, and utter shock on Jean’s, this was the perfect moment to bring it up. 

“You saved her life?”

“What the hell possessed you to do that?”

There was a chorus of confused accusations, but over the din he could sense you settle a little, hesitancy shifting your demeanour as you blinked. 

“You saved my life? Why…?” Though your voice sounded small, it was as if you could stop time. The whole room focused on you again, and it was Jean’s turn to huff in frustration. 

“Logan asked me to.” She said by way of explanation, and your gaze shifted from the redhead back to him, conflict raging in your eyes. He offered you a small, knowing smile with a slight shrug. 

“Couldn’t let ya die, freakshow. Not after you saved her life.” He nodded to Wildling who was peering up at you with nothing but awestruck gratitude, her wide eyes glittering with a sense of wonder you’d only seen once before. On someone else. It made your heart clench. 

“Oh, so she has a nickname now?” Scott slashed the sweet moment in half, and the room returned to fighting amongst themselves. 

“Everyone gets a nickname, Slim.”

“Why don’t I have a nickname?”

“Haven’t thought of one yet.” Logan shrugged dismissively to Ororo, who was all but pouting at the realisation she didn’t have a nickname from Logan. 

“I don’t think you should say mine out loud…” Jean confessed though the corner of her lips quirked into a barely concealed smirk, causing Scott to scoff loudly. 

“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

It was all you could do just watch the carnage, ensuing chaos you didn’t even cause. And remarkably, you felt all the tension in your body melt away at the realisation that these people weren’t as dangerous as you initially thought they were, and they sure as shit weren’t as threatening. You huffed a single chuckle, before another one bubbled from your chest, and it was a few moments before you were genuinely laughing, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back laughter. Wildling looked up at you with visible concern that you were losing your mind, but you couldn’t stop. Tears lined your eyes as you clutched your stomach, the pain from your side doing nothing to quell your amusement. 

“You guys should start a sitcom, seriously. This shit is gold.” You managed to breathe, clutching the countertop for support as you finally regained control of your relentless giggling. “Sorry, sorry. I know the moment is very serious and everything, but there’s a ‘notorious serial killer’ standing in your kitchen and you’re all arguing over nicknames!” You implored them to see the hilarity of the situation, to which they all fell into contemplative silence, only Logan seemed to be looking at you, his eyes bright with something you couldn’t quite interpret. 

“Yeah, well… this ‘notorious serial killer’ doesn’t seem as dangerous as we once thought…” Scott admitted begrudgingly, and you chortled again, snorting a laugh through your nose. 

“That’s just what happens when you collar a beast,” you rolled your eyes, holding up your wrist for emphasis, still finding this whole situation ridiculous. “But, now that introductions are out of the way, how about we discuss getting this thing off me, hm?” You raised a brow, and Logan’s chest inflated with pride. You weren’t lashing out how he’d expected you to. In fact, you’d managed to set the whole room at whatever ease was possible simply by laughing at them. You were constantly going on about the trouble your mouth got you into, but he guessed you never realised how good it was at getting you out of trouble too. 

You really did only acknowledge your own flaws, didn’t you?

“Look, this isn’t personal–”

“How could this not be personal?!” You exclaimed, interrupting Ororo, who took a steadying breath. 

“We just… we don’t know where you stand. With the whole… killing, thing.”

You leaned back, pretending to examine your cracked nails. “It varies from moment to moment, I’ll admit.” 

The whole room eyed you as if they couldn’t tell whether or not you were joking, and Logan had to close his eyes and breathe before he shook your shoulders and begged you not to make jokes at a time like this. But you sighed heavily, dropping your hand by your side. 

“Look, I don’t have a quarrel with any of you. Sure, you tracked me down and interrupted my work which was really fucking annoying by the way. And I may have knocked one of you out, but I won’t apologise for that on account of doing Stray here a favour–” you nodded to Logan, who rolled his eyes playfully, a grin pulling at his lips as Scott spluttered in disbelief. 

“Oh, he gets a nickname too?!”

“And so far, I don’t particularly want to fight any of you, especially with my mutation currently shoved to the side. I already tried to kill one of you and it didn’t go so well for me. At least, it didn’t at the time,” you smirked, sending Logan a provocative, heated look that he knew you did deliberately, just to get a rise out of the rest of the room.

Troublesome mouth indeed.

“But I really don’t wanna interrupt your daisy-chain-making, trauma-bonding, friendship-is-magic bullshit for any longer than I have to, so just get this shit off me, and I’ll be on my way, okay? Because quite frankly, it makes me want to throw up.” 

Logan had never seen a mic-drop like it. You’d completely undermined his entire team’s way of life in one fell swoop. And whilst he would argue that it was much more than all that, you’d kind of hit the nail on the head. He’d had exactly the same thoughts when he’d first arrived. Couldn’t understand why anyone would choose this way of life. But slowly, one by one, these people had wormed their way into his heart.

Just like you had. 

“Well… hard to argue with that. I don’t particularly want her around longer than she needs to be.” Jean commented with an air of snobbery that made you wonder if Logan was completely blind. How the hell could this woman be the apple of his eye? Sure she was hot, but so were many other women, mainly the ivory-haired one standing on the opposite side of her. Now she was hot. 

Jean’s eyes narrowed to you, and you tilted your head in faux innocence, knowing exactly what she’d just done. You’d left your thoughts wide open for her, not that you could do much against her mind-prying anyway. But you revelled in how she drew herself up and puffed out her chest slightly, drawing Scott’s eye. And you revelled in the way her jaw tensed in frustration when Logan continued looking at you.

Oh, this would be fun. Maybe you should stick around for a while. 

“We should take her to the Professor.” Ororo mused thoughtfully, and you rolled your eyes emphatically. Could these people do nothing without their precious Professor’s permission?

“He’s already aware of the situation. He’s waiting in his office.” Jean said stiffly, folding her arms beneath her chest to emphasise her breasts, and you barely managed to stifle your laughter, wondering what the female version of a dick-swinging contest was. 

Scott and Ororo made to step towards you but were stopped by a savagely hissing Wildling, her claws scratching against the ground, back arched defensively as if to strike if they got any closer. Logan couldn’t suppress his smirk. 

“Well, that told you.” He uttered, and you snorted as you recognised your exact words from the cabin, catching a look of bewilderment on Jean’s face. You were enjoying this far too much.

“Alright then, let’s go see the man himself. Not sure what good it’ll do…” You huffed, holding up your hands in surrender as you walked past Wildling, Logan falling into step by your side, following Scott and Jean’s lead. 

“That went well.” He murmured sarcastically, and you had to control yourself not to chuckle again. 

“One good thing came out of this whole debacle though,” you glanced up at Logan who simply raised his brow in question. “Jean could barely keep her eyes off you.”

Your self-satisfied smile didn’t quite seem genuine, and Logan wondered, if only for a moment, whether or not you were irritated by that. But what felt more pressing, was the fact it didn’t boost his ego like it would have done weeks ago. If anything, he wanted to reassure you. To tell you she was just stressed in the moment, since he was the one closest to you. 

But he couldn’t seem to find any truth to his thoughts. 

You felt like you were under complete scrutiny, which you supposed made sense since you likely were. Every pair of eyes trained on you, tracking each micromovement you made, readying themselves for some kind of master plan of attack. Not sure what they expected you to do, considering you didn’t have half of your vision and your mutation was suppressed, but you took a little pride in the fact they felt like they couldn’t relax around you. Good, keep it that way. 

Charles Xavier wasn’t quite what you were expecting. With the way his reputation had grown, you were more expecting some imposing, intimidating-looking man, possibly wearing a nice suit with a white cat on his lap, but that was more likely because of how much you’d villanised him in your head. But this man looked… kinder. Understanding. And though he looked at you with the same sort of scrutiny, it wasn’t in the same way a prey animal would observe a predator. This was more like he was trying to understand you. Who you were and why you were here. 

As if he didn’t know.

And you had a horrible feeling he would try and poke around your head, which wouldn’t be a fun time for anyone involved. 

Some new faces you hadn’t met yet had gathered in his office, two younger-looking girls, one with a white streak in her hair and the other who wore a graphic t-shirt of a band you’d never heard of before. You’d heard them referred to as Shadowcat and Rogue, which you couldn’t help rolling your eyes at. You knew everyone else’s names, why only now were they getting cagey?

You’d refused Charles' offer to take a seat, choosing instead to stand opposite his desk, arms folded across your chest, trying your fucking best not to scratch and rub around the bracelet on your wrist, its effects now taking an extremely uncomfortable toll on your body. It was the same feeling as holding in a scream you desperately wanted to release, your entire body taut and tense, muscles twitching irritably. How the fuck did you spend years with this feeling and not go crazy?

“You’ve caused quite the stir around here, Alecto.” Even his voice was laced with knowing, like he was reading your life story in an open book, dumped straight onto his desk face up, and you had to fight not to roll your eyes again.

“I aim to please.” You responded flatly, eyes hard as you tried to imagine his head exploding. Maybe if you concentrated hard enough, you’d siphon what little you could of your mutation despite the bracelet. But, predictably, nothing happened, and he only smiled in infuriating understanding. 

“I apologise for our unorthodox methods of keeping the school safe,” he nodded to your wrist, and you had the urge to hide it behind your back. “But you must understand, this situation was rather difficult to predict. As are you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, head tilting to the side every so slightly. “You have two telepaths. You could know my every move if you wanted to.”

“We don’t like to exploit our mutations in that way.”

“Why? It’s your only advantage in this world. You especially.” You jabbed, looking pointedly at the fact he was in a wheelchair now. It was a low blow, you knew that, but at the same time, fuck this guy. 

“Alec…” Logan grumbled a subtle warning for you not to press. And you responded by completely ignoring him, something he tried really hard not to take personally. 

“It’s alright Logan. If I recall, you said something similar when you saw met. Called me ‘Wheels’, I believe.” Charles sent him another one of those knowing looks, and you snorted a laugh, clamping your lips together to stop yourself from laughing harder. 

It was nice to see you smiling, though it may have been at his expense, and he knew why Charles had said that because it had worked like a charm. You were already more relaxed than you were when you walked into his office. He wanted you to feel like you weren’t alone. Like you had some kind of kinship here, surrounded by people just like you, and he struggled to see how your relationship with either Tisiphone or Magaera was anywhere as close as his was to the rest of the team.  

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Jean interjected, her tone as impatient as her tapping foot. Getting you out of here seemed to be the only thing on her mind, and if Logan hadn’t spent twenty-four hours getting to know you and working alongside you, he had no doubt he’d be agreeing with her without much thought. 

But he had his own agenda. One that had nothing to do with sleeping with you, surprisingly. Despite that night being nothing short of incredible, Logan wanted to keep you around for more than just that. He saw how lonely you were. Saw how you faced the world with nobody by your side. You were different to Tisiphone, who seemed ready to melt his very bones without so much as a second thought. And whilst yes, you had tried to kill him once, he was also hyper-aware of the fact you felt as if you had no choice. You were trapped in a life chosen for you. And he’d be damned if he let you rot in a cage. 

“Very well. Your injuries were severe when you came to us–”

“I had no choice in that, by the way. I didn’t come here, I was dragged.” You interrupted sharply, sending a glare in Logan’s direction, and his gut twisted with the realisation he’d contributed to that cage. Once again your choices had been taken from you. Somebody who valued freedom above all else. He dragged his eyes from yours, choosing instead to focus on the floorboards.

“When you arrived, then. Jean and Hank managed to patch you up and monitor your well-being until you woke up a few hours ago. You have them to thank for your recovery.” Charles nodded to Jean in the absence of Hank, who you presumed had been taken to some kind of bed to sleep off the harsh hit to the back of his head. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on hitting him so hard, but without the use of your mutation, you sort of overshot. But even the implication that you needed to thank any of these people burned your very blood. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for any of this. If anything, you’d never regretted asking Logan for help more than at this very moment. You should have just knocked him the fuck out and walked away. 

“Once again, something I didn’t ask them to do. You expect me to be grateful for what you’ve all ‘done for me’. Are you out of your fucking mind? You’ve done nothing for me, apart from get in my way. You’ve taken me from my team, suppressed my mutation, insulted me, berated me, and now you want me to thank you?!” You barked incredulously, letting out a bitter laugh as you turned to each mutant in the room individually, assessing the situation and the likelihood of you getting out of here not busted up. 

And Logan could sense it. Could sense how you’d shifted once again, your eyes carefully examining the room and its inhabitants. You knew most of their abilities, maybe only Marie and Kitty being the only two loose cannons in the room. At least, to you. 

“If we hadn’t done what we did, you’d be dead,” Scott said flatly, and you laughed again. 

“So what? People die all the time. Mutants die all the time. Why am I any different? I should have died in that field and yet here I am, forced into a room with ignorance screaming at me from every corner. You have no idea what’s really out there. You have no idea what these people are doing to us. Only Logan knows because he had the fucking decency to listen, which is the bare fucking minimum if you ask me. You tried to kill me,” you jabbed a finger in Scott’s direction, and Jean stepped a little closer to him. “You immobilised me in a kitchen whilst I’m borderline completely defenceless,” you continued, now turning that finger on Jean, who simply raised a thin brow in challenge. “And you,” you whirled back to Charles, eyes bleeding venom. “You abandoned me. Deemed me too dangerous for your little school because my powers were beyond my control. A man who’d sworn to help teach the young and vulnerable turned his back on me. Well, I’m in control now, except you’ve fucking collared me.” 

Logan watched as grim recognition dawned on Charles’ face. So he did know you. And Logan knew everything you’d said was true in how Charles lowered his head and whispered your name. 

“I didn’t know–”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the most powerful telepaths in the world. Of course you knew.” You spat, barely allowing the room to breathe before you turned your attention back to Logan. “This is the man you look up to? A man who’s lied to you since the beginning. He knew who I was from the start, yet sent you all after me knowing what I coud do. He sent you to your deaths, only you can’t die, so that worked out pretty well for you, huh? 

You’re all just weapons to him. Weapons to point toward his enemies so he can claim victory over them. Don’t you get it? You’re just as much a part of a system as I was. Only your cycle of violence doesn’t stop.”

“And yours stops when every human is dead, right?” Logan countered, his patience waning rapidly. “When there’s nobody left but us mutants.”

“Doesn’t that sound ideal to you?”

“It sounds like genocide to me.”

“Who’s side are you on? You heard what they were saying about us. About you. Fucking breeding programmes, Logan! They treat us like cattle and you’re saying you don’t want that to end?!”

“I’m sayin’ there’s a way to end it without massacring millions of innocents.” 

“They’re guilty by association.”

“What about the mutants with human parents? We got a few of ‘em here. You gonna explain to those kids why their parents had to die?” He countered, watching you fall into furious silence. Whilst he found the bracelet inhumane, he was currently a little thankful for it, because he had the feeling you wouldn’t have been so up for the argument if you could silence him with a single thought. 

And neither of you had noticed the rest of the room readying themselves for action if needs be. Scott had his fingers to his glasses, Storm’s hands outstretched by her sides. Rogue had removed a glove from her hand, Kitty crouched down to the floor. And Jean? She hadn’t taken her eyes off you, only barely glancing at the Professor now and then, her brows furrowed. They were arguing as well, and it looked like she was losing. 

Charles uttered your name to catch your attention, and holy shit did it work, your head whipping back to where he was sitting at his desk, eyes narrowing. 

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed, and he held up his hands in apology. 

“Alecto, then. I’m going to give you a choice here. You can stay with us for a while, see what we do here, understand our methods and our way of life, and remove the bracelet. Or you can leave and go back to your team and see if they have any way to remove it. But you’ll find it can’t be merely slashed off.” 

Logan blanched, eyes widening in barely concealed bafflement. Scott spluttered in protest, and it finally became clear what Jean’s silent argument was about, her jaw tense with subdued rage. She was very clearly against this idea. 

“I could just agree to your terms, get this bracelet off, kill most of you and walk out of here unharmed.” You shrugged as if it were the obvious thing in the world. Which it probably was.

“You could. But you won’t.” Charles explained, and your eyes narrowed again.

“And why’s that?”

Xavier glanced at Logan, a small knowing smile pulling at his lips. “You just won’t. Now, let’s get this thing off you. Jean?”

“Woah woah woah, I haven’t agreed to anything yet!” You took a step back as Jean took a reluctant step forward, fishing in her pockets for the circular key, grabbing your flailing wrist in her hand. 

“You put one foot wrong, you’re dead.” She hissed, and you rolled your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Right back atcha, toots.” You said it before you’d even thought about it, realising you’d never fucking said that before in your life. But the man who had and seemed to say it regularly threw an amused glance in your direction, and you bit down your smile. At least, while you still had the control to do so, because all at once, the bracelet fell away, and you felt like you were breathing for the first time. 

The tension in your body melted away as you felt your powers surge through your nerves, your blood singing with freedom as it danced through your veins, eyes glowing with a sanguine song, so strong it was almost overwhelming. You gritted your teeth as you fell to one knee, fighting not to unleash your mutation on the people. They’d taken a risk, and you could appreciate that. And if this were to truly work, you’d have to pay back their borderline misplaced trust. So you'd fight your instincts, let your powers run riot in your blood and your blood alone, your muscles pulsing with strength, your senses sharpening with adrenaline, your pulse like a beating drum in your ears. 

Logan didn’t bother to fight the urge to crouch by your side, watching as your pallid complexion regained colour, the light returned to your eyes. It was spectacular, though a little worrisome as you appeared to be in pain. He’d never experienced one of these collars, and he truly hoped he never would because it would most likely kill him, but the way your eyes focused on the ground demonstrated that this was not the first time you’d dealt with the sudden surge of power. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked lowly, his hand settling atop your shoulder. You really couldn’t figure him out. One moment he was fighting you on moral ethics, the next he was asking you how you were feeling and putting a comforting hand on your arm. You didn’t understand him, and you didn’t understand your body’s reaction to him either. Why did you want him to keep that hand there for eternity? Why did you never want him to move away from you? Why had you come to him for help?

“Yeah, thanks.” You relaxed your jaw, moving it around slightly to loosen the muscles as you stood, Logan following your lead. You needed to get out of this room. You needed time to think, to process. You had no idea what just happened, or why. Why Charles had offered for you to stay. Maybe it was some fucked up shot at redemption, hell if you knew. But you’d entertain it. For now, at least. Until you got bored or the pull of your team became too much to bear. They were technically your family after all. But Monkey would be safe while the others thought you dead. 

At least, you kind of hoped they thought you were dead. 

“Hey Jean…” You kept your eyes on Logan as you called for the woman who had once held his heart. You’d seen how she’d looked at him, and there was definitely some kind of confused longing there. So why not stir things up a little? 

Your wicked little grin set Logan’s heart aflame and his teeth on edge. As Charles had said, you were unpredictable, so just what the hell were you about to do? And when you sent him a wink before turning around and heading towards the door, he knew he was screwed.

“You’re really missing out on that one.” Briefly meeting her eyes, you watched in sick satisfaction as her brows creased in confusion before the fury of realisation flared in her face. And you didn’t stick around long enough to decipher the roaring cacophony of voices as you left the room, accusations flying left and right before the door closed behind you.

It was late evening by the time the argument in Charles’ office had settled down enough, Jean having stormed out with an accusatory Scott hot on her heels, his arms flying in all different directions. It had been a dirty move from you, but Logan couldn’t deny he enjoyed watching the chaos unfold, despite the argument being focused around him. He didn’t confirm anything, but at the same time, he didn’t deny anything either. And the entire team looked exhausted by the time they filed out, Logan borderline pushed Kitty out the door as he closed it with his back, leaving just him and Charles alone. What you’d said had been stuck in his head, replaying your words like a carousel in his mind. And if he didn’t confront Charles about it now, it would keep him awake. 

“I suppose you have questions.” Charles broke the silence first, turning to face the window, the orange light of the sunset bathing him in a glow of hellfire. 

“Yeah… a few. Why didn’t you tell us?” He thought he’d start easy, since jumping into a slew of accusations hadn’t exactly worked for him in the past. It had been a learning curve for him, but one he was more than accustomed to by now. Charles’ heavy sigh fanned the window pane, fogging the glass before it cleared away in moments.

“I wasn’t sure. There aren’t many blood manipulators, but I met one a long, long time ago. Some twenty years, I think.” He mused almost to himself, and Logan folded his arms, pushing against the door he was leaning on to cross the office and sit on one of the sofas, his elbows leaning heavily on his thighs as he once again stared at the floorboards. 

“You said, before this whole thing, you didn’t get to her in time. Assumin’ she’d the same one, what happened?” He asked a little sharper than he’d intended to. But he wanted answers. Too many truths had been concealed, and some could have got his friends killed. So yeah, he was a little fucking frustrated. 

“The same thing that always happens. Her mutation awakened. But with devastating consequences. By the time I arrived, nothing was left of her family but bloodstains on the walls. It was much like those images in the slideshow. And she couldn’t have been older than five.” His voice was filled with so much regret it made Logan wonder if he was telling him everything. And, knowing Charles, he probably wasn’t. 

“So… what? You just turned your back on her?” Logan hissed, his jaw aching from how hard he was gritting his teeth. The thought of you wandering around the world at such a young age, terrified out of your mind of what you could do… 

It hurt. 

“I worked with her for almost a year. Taught her what control I could, but it’s like her mutation calls to blood. It wants to manipulate, to bend, to control. With every drop, she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was growing more and more frustrated by the day. I only took my eyes off her for a minute…” Charles trailed off, his eyes trained on the younger students playing a game of tag in the gardens, shrieking giddily as the one who was ���it’ chased them all around. A touching scene, and one you could have been a part of if he hadn’t been so damn careless. “She was gone. Took off. I tried to track her, but I taught her how to hide her mutation from others, and now she was using it against me. By the time I had Cerebro… 

“It was my failings that got her into this life ––my neglect. I couldn’t help her the way she needed and it cost her a life of freedom. But you can, Logan. There was one reason and one reason alone she didn’t kill us all and walk out of here.”

Logan wasn’t stupid. He knew he was the reason, but he also knew it wasn’t just him. He’d told you how much his friends meant to him. How close of a family they were. You’d understood almost immediately they weren’t just colleagues or associates. Even Scott. These people saved his life, and offered him friendship, a home. And what stray dog doesn’t want that?

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be…” he mumbled, the weight of Charles’ words heavy on his shoulders. As much as he cared about you, he didn’t want your fate to be on his conscience. He wanted a better life for you. Fuck, he didn’t particularly want you to leave, but having that whole decision riding on him…?

It really made him want to skip town. Just disappear and return after a couple months, maybe a few years who knows. Isn’t that the version of him Jean said she missed?

“You’re right, it’s a lot of responsibility.” Charles agreed, to Logan’s chagrin. 

“Outta my head, Chuck.”

Charles rumbled a chuckle, turning from the gardens to regard Logan where he was sitting. “Apologies, your thoughts are often quite loud. But the mere fact you care for her means I don’t have much to worry about. You’re a good man, Logan. Maybe you could make an honest woman of her.”

Logan rolled his eyes dramatically, standing from his seat and glancing out the window, his heartwarming as he watched those kids change the game in a split second, now engaging in some imaginary fantasy battle. If only your childhood could have consisted of things such as this. Maybe you wouldn’t be so hellbent on the destruction of humanity…

Or maybe you would. Who was he to say?

With a heavy sigh, he nodded goodbye to Charles, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out into the hallway, his mind a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts and intentions. To the point where he didn’t even see Jean lingering in the lounge, pretending to tend to a fire that had already been lit. The warmer months were finally over, and the weather had finally crossed into the rainy, cold season. Wind picking up, clouds overhead. Only today had been a nice midpoint between sunshine and storm clouds. Marie was always going on about that literature technique where the weather reflects the mood. He felt she’d go crazy with pride if he brought it up. 

“You really want her to stay, don’t you?” Jean broke the silence, finally setting aside the poker now the flames were climbing to her satisfaction. “It doesn’t matter what she did, because you spent twenty-four hours with her and she completely changed you.” She spoke absently as if not speaking to him. But since nobody else was in the room, a nice change from the usual hum of life, he assumed he was the only one she could be talking to. 

“Yeah, I do. But she didn’t change me, Jean. I’m still me.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn’t want to have this conversation so soon after the meeting. He didn’t even know where you’d run off to, and he needed to find you. He couldn’t explain why, he just did. 

Jean sighed, sitting back on her heels in front of the hearth. “I suppose sleeping with random strangers is very reminiscent of the old you.” Her tone was airy and careless, but there was an underlying spitefulness that Logan really couldn’t understand. He could get her not liking you because of your methods and ideology, but not liking you because he’d slept with you? That made absolutely no sense.

“Don’t see how that’s any’ve your concern.” He grumbled, crossing the room to lean against the wall next to the fireplace. It was a low blow, and one he refused to rise to, but it sure as shit irked him. So what if he slept with you? Sure, maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but in the moment, he didn’t give a shit. And truthfully, he still didn’t give a shit. 

“I just wonder why you really want her around. Sex is a good distraction, after all.” She sent him a look over her shoulder. A look that would have made him weak at the knees a month ago. And whilst it still made him feel warm, he didn’t have the same ‘I want to jump your bones’ reaction he used to. He wouldn’t spend the rest of the day in a bad mood because of Scott’s existence. 

“I’m not discussin’ this with you.”

“Oh come on, Logan. The entire mansion knew how you felt about me. Even the students. And suddenly you’re not interested anymore because someone new and exciting walks through the door?” Jean stood from her knees, smoothing down her t-shirt of any creases she may have created. 

“‘S that what this is about? You’re mad because I no longer want to sleep with you?” He accused a little harsher than he meant to, and Jean scoffed in response, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I’m just saying it’s not hard to see the correlation.” She retorted dismissively. 

“Don’t you always say ‘correlation doesn’t always mean causation’? I never understood what that meant ‘til now. I was right here, for years. And you wanted nothin’ to do with me. An’ now all of a sudden you’re all torn up cuz I’ve moved on?” Whatever he said about not rising to the bait had been thrown out the window.

“You moved on to a girl you’ve known for less than five minutes!” It was almost cathartic to see her get as worked up as he was, her collected façade fraying at the seams. 

“I haven’t moved on to her, Jean, Christ! We had sex, it meant nothing.” He huffed in exasperation, the scent of frustration heavy in the air. Frustration, lavender and–

“Aww, you wound me, Stray.” 

Copper. 

Your voice wove through the tension, curling around his anger like a flute soothing a snake. And whilst he found himself relaxing, he watched as Jean tensed further, her spine straightening tenfold. 

He’d never seen you so at ease, leaning against the doorframe with a lazy, entertained smirk, nursing a mug of god knows what in both your hands as if you were trying to warm up. You’d changed into a pair of low-hanging sweatpants he’d seen on Kitty a few times, and a graphic shirt he knew belonged to Ororo. Considering nobody was particularly happy with you hanging around, they all seemed surprisingly accommodating towards you. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Jean asked sharply, her eyes narrowing in a way that made Logan want to step between you. But for who’s sake, he couldn’t discern. 

“Not long,” you shrugged, standing up straight and heading over to sit on the arm of the couch. “But long enough to hear that our little midnight tryst meant nothing to Claws. And here I was hearing wedding bells and sending out invitations. Guess I’ll put the florist on hold.” You sighed with faux dejection, peering into the contents of your mug longingly. 

Jean ground her teeth together. “You’re incredibly grating, you know that?”

You just snorted a laugh, eyeing her with that same lazy smirk. “Oh honey, you think this is bad? Just wait til you see what else my mouth can do,” you paused momentarily, pretending to think. “Although… I suppose Logan could fill you in on that.” 

Logan almost choked on his saliva, his eyes blowing wide before he had to clamp his lips together to stop himself from cackling.

“You’re disgusting.” Jean sneered, looking you up and down with an appraising eye, her nose scrunching in revulsion. 

“And you’re jealous.” You shot back with a sing-song tone, swirling your mug in your hands, raising a curious brow at her. 

“Of you? You’re insane.” Though she did take a step back from you, her eyes flaring with the realisation that you could see right through her. 

“Disgusting, insane, c’mon. You can do better than that. But you might want to get some air and cool off. Your blood’s boiling.” You glanced at her up and down, giving her a look of venomous innocence. Jean clamped her mouth shut as if internally debating whether or not to bind your limbs to your body again, but one quick look at Logan’s face of warning and she seemed to decide against it. 

“Fucking psycho bitch…” she hissed as she stormed out, and you didn’t bother to dodge to the side as she deliberately shouldered past you, your hands moving quickly to save the contents of your mug that Logan was only now able to smell was tea. 

“That’s more like it,” you gave her a wink over your shoulder, and Logan released a heavy sigh. Of relief or exhaustion, he didn’t know, but at least that conversation was over. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He raised a brow as you sipped your drink, humming absently at the flavour. “Yeah? For what?”

“Saving you from an argument that looked like it was about to turn nasty. Trouble in paradise? I’m not about to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.” You grinned unapologetically, and though Logan knew he should be irritated, but he couldn’t find a lick of frustration with you. 

“Not about to pretend I didn’t know you were there.” He didn’t. But he wasn’t about to admit that. And the way you narrowed your eyes told him you knew he was lying. Neither of you decided to bring it up.

The room fell silent, your eyes focused on the crackling of the flames, finding comfort in the non-conformity of it all. You couldn’t predict the patterns of fire. Didn’t know where the next ember would pop, or the next spark would rise. Didn’t know when it would flare to life or decide to die down. There was comfort in chaos. 

It was where you thrived. Not in places like this, where the quiet was stuffy and suffocating. Not when your senses didn’t have to constantly be alert. You didn’t like the feeling of so-called “safety”, which was part of the reason you enjoyed riling up Jean so much. She was dangerous, and as much as you didn’t like her, you certainly enjoyed that much about her. 

“How’re you holdin’ up?”

“About what I said…”

You both broke the silence simultaneously, even the hearth joining your voices with a sudden crack. A small smile graced your lips, huffed laughter rippling in your tea as he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. It was cute, you thought, the way he slightly shifted from foot to foot. 

“Charles, uh. Charles told me. What happened when you were a kid.”

And just like that, your good mood soured. Barely able to disguise your shocked rage, your spine straightened, defensive walls locking down around your heart and soul. “He had no right to tell you that.”

“But he did all the same.” Logan attempted to soothe. He didn’t want to lie to you, and though this conversation was about to be just as painful as the one he had with Jean, this one needed to happen. “Look, he failed you before. Didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how to find you. But give him a second chance an–”

“It wasn’t just him, Logan. Sure, Charles was the first, but in time everyone turns their backs on the kids they can’t help. And if they can’t help them, they try to tame and use them. After a while, you just come to expect it.” You avoided his gaze, choosing instead to stare into the murky brown liquid in the mug you held as if it would somehow yield the answers you sought. 

“Not everyone is like that.”

“No? You never had somebody turn their back on you? Or you turn your back on them?” You asked, and Logan tensed his jaw, giving you the answer you needed. “Exactly. This world is cruel. And whilst I know I can’t put a stop to it completely, trying to stem that cruelty where I can became a purpose. And if that means the eradication of the human race, then so be it.”

“What makes mutants so different? You were a street kid, I know you’ve seen some fucked up shit from both sides. Mutants can be just as cruel, so why are they so different?” He urged, fighting the instinct to set your mug aside and take your hands in his own. He had to hold onto the hope that you didn’t actually think this and that you were holding onto resentment because it was all you had. 

“Because the only people who’ve given me any sense of belonging are those mutants. You may think we’re cruel, and our methods are fucked up, but those people saved my life. They took me in after the world turned its back on me. After the human who claimed to love me branded me a slave and sold me off as fucking cattle. I was passed around humans like a fucking joint. Sold from this family to that, from one organisation to another. Fight pits, prostitution, thievery, bounty hunter. You name it, I did it. All for somebody else’s profit and never for me.” You drew in a shaky breath, cursing the burning of your eyes, the damp on your lashes, the tremor in your hands. You could feel the collar’s weight on your neck, the itch of friction burn on your collar bones. The blood down your back from where you tried time and time again to claw it off, nails sinking into soft, scarred flesh. “Mutants freed me from that hell. Mutants like Tiss and Mags. They freed me and whilst we’re not quite the same as your cushy little family here, they’re all I have. Monkey is all I have. So don’t sit there and tell me mutants can be just as cruel because, from my experience, they’re not a patch on the suffering a human can inflict.”

Having had enough of ignoring his instincts, Logan stepped forward, bending down on one knee to take the mug from your trembling hands and set it on the coffee table. 

“You’ve been dealt the shittiest deal, I know that,” he finally took your hands, his thumbs smoothing over the bones of your scarred knuckles. “But there are other ways of puttin’ a stop to this. Not everyone has to die. There are innocents too. There always are.”

You stared at the way his hands had enveloped yours, the gentle caress of his fingers, a touch you were so unfamiliar with and yet already crave so much more. “How do you do it?” You whispered, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Do what?”

“The right thing. All the fucking time. Doesn’t it drive you crazy? How fucking shit this world is? Don’t you want to make them suffer? For everything they’ve done to us? For everything they’re doing to us? To kids?” Your question hung in the air, caught in the static tension between you. 

“Yeah. I do. But if I started, I’d never  stop.” He answered honestly, ducking his head to finally catch your eye, his breath stilling in his lungs as he saw right through your furious façade and straight into the terrified girl beneath.

“Maybe that’s a good thing…”

“I’ve stained my hands enough times to know it isn’t.” 

You fell silent, contemplating his words. Had he been in this position before, right where you are now? Had he felt this same kind of all-consuming rage? “Fuck…” you muttered, knowing he had a good point. 

“I know. It’s frustratin’ when someone forces you to see a different perspective.” He knew all too well how it fucks with the mind.

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” You pointed out, though your glare held no actual heat. 

“‘Yet’ is good.” His lips quirked into a small smirk. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did have a shot at saving you from yourself. And if the way you rolled your eyes was anything to judge by, he was succeeding. 

“Shut up…” You forced yourself to look away from his suddenly strikingly handsome face, choosing instead to find interest again in the fire. A tobacco-scented huff of laughter fanned the side of your cheek, and regrettably, you couldn’t find the will to continue staring into the flames. Your gaze dragged reluctantly back to his features, suddenly hyper aware of his hands in yours. Of his face barely inches from your own. 

“How’s the wound?” He murmured, eyes flickering over your features, drinking you in as if to memorise the valleys and plains of your face, gaze lingering on your lips for longer than you’d dare admit. 

“It’ll heal in around a week or so. I’ll be fine.” You whispered back, dragged from your internal debate over whether or not you should pull away by the borderline gravitational tug of his intentions. This felt different to the logger’s cabin. This wasn’t two people finding comfort in each other after surviving a battle together. There was no threat here to excuse your actions. No rush of adrenaline to explain them. 

“Good.”

Logan couldn’t be bothered to argue with himself. He didn’t care if it was a bad idea. Something about you drew him in, and like a damned moth to an open flame, he welcomed the doomed desire that came with it. The first touch of your lips was electrifying, and he sucked a gasp through his nose as you too gave in. Eyes fluttering shut, your fingers dragged from his hands up over his arms, nails lightly scratching up his neck to weave into his hair, making a home in his thick locks. 

You hadn’t realised how badly you craved his touch. You were mildly aware of it, sure. But when he kissed you like there was nobody else on the planet, when he savoured your lips the way one does with the last bite of a meal, you couldn’t deny it. And when you parted your mouth for him, you felt a surge of something burst through your chest. A searing, agonising thrumming in the centre of your chest. 

Logan’s fingers gently pried at the bandage you’d haphazardly wrapped around your left eye, softly pulling at the fabric until it came loose in his hand, falling away from your face. A stuttered exhale flew from your lips as he drew back a fraction, just enough for your breaths to mingle as one as he traced the outline of the scar with his fingertips, hazel eyes meeting yours. 

“Pretty…” he murmured absently, and your eyes widened, a bashful smile of pure, unadulterated beatitude pulled at your disobedient lips. Logan drank in your expression, a surprised smile of his own gracing his features. “Yeah? Like it when I call you pretty?”

You wanted to slap the self-satisfied grin from his face, but the butterflies in your stomach prevented you from doing so. “I just… don’t hear it very often.”

“Better get used to it, Alleycat.” You barely had time to register yet another new nickname before his lips were sealed back to yours, an unmistakable urgency now fuelling his movements and a pace change you were more than happy to dance with. 

With a slight push against your chest, you let yourself fall into the sofa behind with a soft thud, your hands never leaving his hair as he fell forward with you, fingers roaming beneath Ororo’s graphic t-shirt, careful to avoid the wound still raw in your side. You thought it would hurt more, but maybe you were just too drugged by his attention to notice the pain. Goosebumps prickled your skin, your thighs caging his hips as you locked your ankles around his waist, dragging a low, breathy groan from his chest. 

He separated from your lips, the taste of his tongue still lingering in your mouth as he littered kisses up the side of your jaw and down your neck, igniting a heat within you thought had long since faded. But then you remembered the cabin. You remembered the way he could make you feel with his fingers alone. That spark definitely hadn’t faded but was just waiting. Buying its time. 

“Logan…” you breathed, the scruff of his beard lightly scratching the soft skin of your neck. He rumbled a hum of acknowledgement, his hand sliding from your waist to grip the meat of your thigh. 

“Thought I lost you for a moment… scared the hell outta me.” He confessed against your skin, the side of your head tingling slightly with each lover’s caress. 

But you couldn’t focus on the feeling, not after what he’d just said. A cold pit of dread opened in your stomach, and you pushed against the centre of his chest. “What?”

Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, his head tilting to the side. “When you were shot…? Forgot already?” He grinned a little cockily, but you drew back as far as you could with the couch cushions behind your head. Your legs unlocked from his lower back, your hand now pushing a little firmer against his chest until he was off you.

“What do you mean ‘you thought you lost me’?”

“You almost died?!” He stated it as if it were obvious, but that wasn’t what you were asking him. 

“You wouldn’t have lost anything, Logan. I’m not someone to lose. I’m not even someone to mourn. Me dying would have meant nothing.” How couldn’t he see that? How couldn’t he see how little you mattered? There would always be somebody to take your place. There always had been and there always would be. 

You stood abruptly from the couch, the heel of your palm pressed over the scar on your left eye, as if you had only just realised it was uncovered and you hastily tried to fix your hair to cover it. 

“I don’t understand.” Logan squinted at you, as if looking at you harder would help him come to terms with whatever the hell just happened. Would explain to him why you were suddenly pushing him away. 

“I don’t expect you to–”

“Then help me to. Help me to understand you. Because I’m a little lost right now.” He huffed irritably, and you tried not to let your temper flare. 

“Everyone around you matters, Logan. Everyone around you has people who look at them differently. Who love them, care about them, would miss their conversations at breakfast if they weren’t there. That’s why I don’t expect you to understand. Because I don’t think you’ve ever met someone who doesn’t matter before.” You explained with muted frustration, and Logan rose intending to take your arm.

“I still haven’t.”

You sighed heavily, raising your gaze to meet his, and your very heart stopped beating at what you saw. It was a look you’d never experienced before, but one you knew all too well. How could he? After everything you’d said. Your intentions. The very core of who you were, carefully crafted to be a cold, hard killer. The core he was well aware of. So how could he?

“I’m not somebody to be loved, Logan.”

Your words struck him like a bullet straight to his chest. The harsh reality of your upbringing, the lessons your life had taught you were all here for him to see. The thought of getting through to you earlier was almost laughable now. He wasn’t a professional; he had no idea how to deal with this. 

And he was struck with something else. The acknowledgement of a familiar blossom, barely withstanding the crushing weight of his situation.

It seemed he’d stayed silent for a little too long. You fixed your tee, and fiddled with your hair slightly to make sure it was at least somewhat covering your scar, before offering not another word. He was completely powerless as you walked away, leaving him to sit with whatever the fuck had just happened. Because, in truth, he didn’t know how to explain his feelings in words. He was at a complete loss as to how he could convince you otherwise. Because you were wrong. Oh so very, very wrong. 

But now you've walked away. You’d pushed him back and shut him out. Again. Only this time, it felt final.

This time, he didn’t know if he could get back in. 

[writingdevil]

STP Prompt

(This is a ContraCold request made by @saranorah228 -I love this duo and their fun dynamic.Enjoy!)

It was snowing,and Contrarian demanded to go outside.

They haven't experienced much snow in their lives, and Contrarian was determined to make the most of it.

While the others were more concerned about heating their home up and not getting barricaded in by snow,Contrarian dragged the first person who he knew would want and appreciate a snow day-Cold.

He giggled in glee as he gripped Cold's hand, marching outside,and feeling how the snow crunched beneath his feet.Cold hadn't said much, but Contrarian saw him take one look outside the window,and his eyes lit up,and then Contrarian was shoving him outside.

They walked out until they were far enough away from the house,and he stopped and spun around, feeling snowflakes stick to his feathers.

He giggled uncontrollably,catching a glimpse of Cold,who was busy staring straight up at the sky, and the snow dotted around his feathers in a way that kind of made him look like a weird yet pretty snow creature.Cool.

As dizziness took ahold of him,he stumbled over to the other,leaning against his side as he asked,"Do you feel at home,buddy?"

Cold just made a questioning noise,putting his arm out and watching the snow hit his feathers,and Contrarian noticed how they puffed up at the contact.

"How do you mean?"Cold finally asked,and Contrarian managed to shove the dizziness away to stand up properly and say,"Well,you're Cold-you're basically in your element here!"

Cold smiled softly at him,and that did something funny to Contrarian's stomach,so he switched his attention to the snow.

He started by stomping around,kicking his feet up and giggling as the snow was thrown about across the field."This stuff is weird!"Contrarian exclaimed over his shoulder."It kinda looks fluffy,don't you think?"

"Skeptic said that he thinks it might actually just be frozen water from the sky,"Cold said,and then Contrarian was stunned as Cold stuck his tongue out to taste the snow.

A blush suddenly exploded across Contrarian's face,and he forced himself to look away,crouching down to touch the snow with his hands.His body shook,but he wasn't sure if it was from the bitter weather,so he just kept focusing on the weird feeling of the snow-light yet solid enough to bunch up in his palm.

He held a small pile of it,then smiled as he let it drift down through the gaps in his fingers.Then-he got an idea.

He used every fibre of his being to stop any laughter from coming out,glancing over his shoulder to see Cold with his arm out,inspecting the shaking of his fingers and they were starting to look paler than before.

He was distracted.Good.

He worked quickly,spreading his wings out to block Cold from seeing what he was doing.He slowly stood up when he was finished,glancing over his shoulder to see Cold about to crouch and touch the snow like he had.

Before he could though,Contrarian shouted, "Hey, Cold!"and the biggest grin spread across Contrarian's face,as his arm shot out,and he clocked Cold right in the face.

There was a single second,where pure shock took over the bird's usually blank face,before Contrarian burst out laughing.

He clutched his stomach as laughter practically erupted out of him,and he ducked his head to avoid any heated glares that Cold may send him.But come on!How many times can someone say that they've genuinely caught Cold that off guard before?It was unheard of!

Contrarian was only beginning to feel a sense of pride at being one of the few birds to accomplish that,when he suddenly felt something hit his head.

He snorted,expecting this,and he lifted his head, only for another snowball to hit him in the face.He stumbled backwards,as one,two,three-fucking hell Cold was good at this-four snowballs hit him in the face.

His face was beginning to go numb,so he quickly waved his arms out and yelled,"Okay,I'm sorry,I yield!I yield!"

There was a pause,and Contrarian dared to open his eyes,finding Cold staring at him in soft amusement,a snowball resting in the palm of his hand.They held each other's gazes for a few seconds,before Cold silently lowered his arm, looking down at the snowball instead.Contrarian found himself a little disappointed that the moment ended so quickly.

But then he noticed the way Cold was eying up the snow in his hand,and he couldn't stop himself from chanting,"Do it!Do it!Do it!"So without any further motivation,Cold bit into the snowball.

Contrarian rushed over to him,cackling as he watch Cold's face for any more changes.His hands reached out to softly grip Cold's arm without even thinking about it,and he watched as Cold furrowed his brows in deep thought-before his expression completely fell with disappointment.

"It just becomes water in your mouth,"Cold said with slumped shoulders.Contrarian's smile also fell as he went,"Aw,really?"and then picked up some snow for him to try himself.

He attempted to chew it,but just as Cold said-it just dissolved on his tongue.

"Well that's boring,"Contrarian said,letting water dribble out of his mouth,and making Cold chuckle softly.

He liked that sound.He liked being the one to make Cold sound like that.

Contrarian rubbed his mouth clean,and the two of them just stood there,taking a moment to watch the snow fall around them.

It was really pretty.Contrarian never thought that something so pretty and so fun could fall from the sky.His mind was already going through all the pranks he could pull on the others,and then some were just fun things to do in the snow.Like-what other things could they make with the snow?What did the snow do to other things like trees and lakes and-

Contrarian didn't know when it happened,but at some point,his attention had drifted from the snow, and onto Cold.

He had a peaceful,almost soft expression on his face,and he kept his gaze up at the sky,his shiny feathers sticking out amongst all the white snow.

-and all he knew was that he wanted to make sure that Cold enjoyed every minute of this.

His face heated up,and his feathers puffed up,and Contrarian had no idea what this fluttering feeling in his stomach was,but it was so different than anything else he's felt before.He wants to ignore it, but he had a feeling that ignoring it meant ignoring Cold,and Contrarian could never bring himself to do that.

He sighed in frustration at himself,before he noticed what happened when he did that.

"Hey look!"Contrarian exclaimed in excitement, hardly able to contain his joy as Cold turned to look at him.Contrarian bunched his hands into fists and squeezed as he revealed,"Look!I'm just like you now!"and then he let a big exhale out,and grinned at how he could now see his own breath.

Cold's eyes widened slightly,with snow still clinging to the feathers on his face,and he let a breath of his own out,his signature frost floating out around them.

Contrarian began to bounce on the spot,and then his heart pounded at the way Cold smiled down at him,as if amused by his reaction.

But then Contrarian froze in shock as Cold leaned in closer to whisper,"That is interesting."

The dark glint in his eyes told Contrarian that Cold may not be talking about the snow anymore.

[episodes-ff]

Can I Love On You?

Armando

Walking around the house with the event coordinator, I pinched the bridge of my nose trying not to strangle her as she discussed the current details surrounding our New Year's party. That's right, a damn party! Diamonté was absolutely insistent upon us having a big celebratory bash to ring in the new year with our loved ones. We could have sprung for a cozy, quaint get together at Mike's but nooooo, it had to be special! I agreed because she's my Queen and I'd give her the world, but she's taking the whole thing to the next level. Entertainment, caterers, live music (I told her that was a hell no and she refused to look at me for a few days), and planners. Two chipper, annoyingly perky and overly expensive planners, named Sabrina and Becca, who were willing to give Dee her wildest dreams no matter the cost or aggravation to me.

"Are you listening, Armando?" Sabrina pondered in her disgustingly happy voice as she looked up from her planning book. "Uh, y-yea, you said we'll be doing an entrance?" "Precisely! Once the fire dancers do thei-" "Fire dancers?! What fire dancers?!" "For the New Year's extravaganza! They will be stationed at the-" "No! Hell no! Matter of fact, hold on just a moment." Nodding swiftly in fear, she clutched her planner to her chest as I turned and stormed up the stairs. "Diamonté!" "I'm in the bedroom, baby!"

Marching into the confines of our room, I saw her in the closet organizing and folding clothes. "Hey, sweetie, everything ok?" "Everything ok? This party is getting out of control, Dee. I'm putting my foot down!" Looking up at me, she frowned her big puppy dog eyes but I wasn't budging, not today. "But papa, I want this to be special! It's our first New Year's together as a family and I wanna celebrate that properly." "Fire dancers? Jugglers? All these crazy fireworks? Baby, we don't need all this craziness to celebrate our family." I cooed as I saw the beginning of tears forming in her eyes. "But I want it." "Next year, baby. We can plan and e-" "No!" She stomped snapping into a full on tantrum as my brows furrowed in disbelief. "Que?" "You heard me. I really really really want this party." She murmured staring in fear as I leaned in closer. "And just who do you think you're taking that tone with?" I gritted against her ear as I felt the goosebumps cover her skin. "U-Um, I-" "Tsk tsk tsk, nah baby girl. I don't think you heard me clearly. You'll understand in a few minutes though."

Terry

Hearing the ringing of my phone, I groaned before picking up the call. "Hey, Tee! Change of plans, we're doing the party over at Mike's. Just something simple and intimate if you still wanted to come." Armando clarified as I nodded. "Thanks for the heads up. Um, I'm still a little busy but I may stop by to show my face for a couple minutes." "Ok man, just hit me up if you do come." "Will do, thanks!" Saying our farewells, I ended the call before looking around and huffing as I grabbed another box. Hoisting it up onto the counter, I huffed before going through the remaining of my things.

After the filing I knew the best thing for everyone involved would be for me to leave, so I did just that. I gave Anaya the house and bought a small apartment a little bit away from work so that I could still provide for her and the kids and give her some peace. We agreed to co-parent for Maya's sake, but I don't want to hurt anymore and I'm trying to make good on my promise not to. I can't really say the same for her, but again that's my own doing...

**ONE WEEK EARLIER**

It was Christmas Eve in the Richmond household and things have been anything but cheerful. Despite the best efforts from my parents to have a cozy and warm gathering, tensions were still at an all time high, and getting more petty by the minute. "Terry, will you please let Anaya know that I'm putting the ham on now so she can use the stove to start the greens?" "You could have texted her." I muttered to myself earning her scowl. "On my way." I sighed before trudging upstairs. Walking up to her door, I heard her giggling sweetly in what felt like forever. Quietly smiling to myself, my grin quickly dissipated as I heard the smooth chuckle of another man. "Boy, shut up! You steady lying!" She chuckled as my brows drew together in anger. Who the fuck?! Waltzing in, I watched her shift her eyes up to me as her bright smile transitioned to a deep mug while pulling her phone to her chest. "Can I help you?" "Kitchen's available." I spat before slamming her door and heading out for a jog.

Coming back from my jog, I ignored hellos and greetings as I headed up to the room. Changing out of my clothes and hopping into the shower, I let the steam overtake me as my thoughts ran wild. Damn, she just gone hop to the next nigga like that?! Nahhh, Tee, you can't really fault her, you know you caused this. But she just fucking filed two days ago, what the FUCK?! You did her foul though, can you really blame her for wanting to move on so quick? True true true. NAH FUCK ALLAT SHIT?! WHO THE FUCK IS THIS NEW NIGGA?! Ending my shower, I tossed on some sweats and a tank before barging down to the kitchen. Seeing her by the stove, I pulled her toward me and stormed off with her in my grasp. "Hey! Wh-" "Mama, watch the stove please?" "O-Ok." "Terry get the fuck off of me!"

Walking into the garage, I slammed the door shut as she jumped from the rush of cool air. "Terry, what the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't be fucking snatching me up like that! And why you bring me down here in this cold ass shit?!?!" "Aye, shut allat shit up! Who the fuck is this new ass nigga?!" "Wh- Ahahaha!!! Yo you serious?!" "Anaya, I'm not fucking playing with you!" "And nigga I'm not mothafucking playing with you!" She shouted poking my chest before I grabbed her hand. Staring each other down fiercely, I silently fumed huffing as she puffed her on fiery breaths at me; our eyes trailed down slowly, almost memorizing one another, landing to each other's lips. You could hear an ant piss how tensely we were eyeing each other.

Leaning forward slowly, I caressed her cheek pulling her into a deep and sloppy kiss. Immediately tangling her hands in the nape of my neck, I hoisted her up feeling on her juicy ass as she wrapped her legs around me grinding her center against my waist as the kiss heated up. Smacking her ass as I held her close, her moans coated my ears beautifully before a voice called from beyond. "Anaya, sweetie! You have a guest!" We heard my mother signaling Anaya to jump off me and scurry into the house in confusion at her actions. Looking on in my own confusion, I followed her before stopping in my tracks as I saw another man standing at my mother's doorstep with flowers for my wife.

**FLASHBACK OVER**

Ever since that day it's been all about her and Rome. I can't even lie, a nigga was livid, hell I'm still livid! I did some of the lowest shit possible but am I really not worth a second chance? This is my first time ever doing something this crazy to Anaya and immediately I'm thrown to the wolves?! I think that crushes my spirit the most, but it just motivates me to do what I gotta do to get my family back. Terry Richmond is once again, a man on a mission of a lifetime.

Anaya

Waking up, I stretched before feeling warmth as his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Looking over at him, I smiled as he placed a kiss on my cheek. "Good morning, beautiful." "Good morning to you too, handsome." I giggled before he got up to relieve himself and take a shower. Listening to Rome humming from the bathroom door, I blushed before opening my Snapchat and taking a few pictures to match my glittering mood. Choosing one from the bunch, I smiled typing my somewhat petty caption before posting it to my story and getting up to go join my new man in the shower.

Rome and I have started dating and while things are still pretty casual for us, they're starting to heat up. I took that chance and texted him after the encounter at the grocery store, and he took me on our first date on Christmas Eve. Of course, Terrence was royally pissed but he'll be ok. I told him off the bat about my pregnancy and he's been so accepting and caring of the situation. It's only been a week since we had our first date but he's been treating me like a princess nonstop, even agreeing to come to Miami for New Years so I wouldn't spend it alone. We haven't slept together, but if he keeps this up, I might be breaking that rule.

Getting something for Maya to snack on, I smiled as my phone continued to buzz and ring with plenty of congratulations and well wishes for the new year. I decided I wasn't going to hide this pregnancy or separation from the world or the people in it. I was in fact a new woman, and I'm damn proud of the new woman I'm becoming. I do wish sometimes that things could've been different, but everything happens for a reason. Walking into her nursery, I smiled as I handed Maya her fruit and checked her before heading back into the room to see about Rome. I haven't had them interact yet because for me it would be too soon but I can’t wait for the day. I just hope Terry doesn’t try to ruin this for me.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Tags: @theereina @violetmuses @kumkaniudaku @kaylaahisthebestest- @kimuzostar @simpledopeme @mymindisneverhere @believeinthefireflies95 @tbmotw @brisunique @madxlov3 @playgurlxoxo @mauvecherie-writes @casualsludgeshoetoad @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @geneziesm @ghettogirly @goldenjasssy @megamindsecretlair @vivaalenaa @ranikyani @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @qdancer22 @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @theblessedcap @deijalee @catha2003 @magik22 @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @sweettea-and-honeybutter @j0joworld @liv10002 @justicefordeanthomas @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @brattyfics

[writingsonsaturn]

mirrorball

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: so this was made in between like two weeks, so if it's a bit choppy and seems horrible im so sorry please forgive me i love you

wc - 1.2k

content warning: angsty, peter being an oblivious unappreciative boyfriend

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Everything you did was brushed off.

No matter how extravagant, or otherworldly, Peter was always either too busy working on making his suit better, or he was out saving other people. 

Obviously, you weren’t cold-hearted. 

It wasn’t the fact Peter was saving other people. It was the fact he never looked up to give you an honest five minute conversation anymore, or that he never saw, maybe not even cared about all the things you were doing for him. Trying to take the load of being a young superhero off his shoulders, you had started doing the laundry, dishes, making all meals, patching up his suits, and many, many more, painfully tiring tasks all in the name of love.

The only, and biggest problem here was that he never once said a simple ‘thanks!’ or any acknowledgement whatsoever that what you were doing was helpful. Although it wasn’t your goal to earn points in a system you weren’t even aware of, you still would’ve accepted even a simple head nod and kiss, but nope, nothing.

It all blew up on one fateful evening when you had just spent over four and a half hours making one of Peter's favorite meals for his birthday. 

You were so excited to show him the birthday gift that you had worked extra hours at your job for, everything was all set up in your teeny tiny living room and now all you had to do was sit and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home.

The click of the door sounded out through the apartment, announcing to the quiet apartment your boyfriend's arrival. “Hey, babe” Peter said as he walked into the apartment, he didn’t even look up and properly acknowledge your existence, he just simply knew you were always home before him. As he walked in you noticed he had the newspaper in his hand, probably another hit piece on Spider-Man, claiming he’s a monster.

“Hi, my love” you greeted him enthusiastically, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He set the newspaper down and gave into your warmth, allowing his tense body to relax into your arms, then all of the sudden he pulled away.

“I'm sorry, baby, but I gotta get out in the city” his voice was fast-paced, almost giving you no time to process what he was doing. 

“Peter, are you joking?” you practically whispered, “It’s your birthday.”

Peter noticed the hurt expression on your face, and only then did he decide to look around and see everything you had set up for him. There were streamers hanging from the ceiling, a homemade sign that read “Happy Birthday, Spidey!” with little hand crafted webs around it up on the wall. Sat on the table was a homemade cake and a wonderfully prepared dinner. 

“Oh wow, Honey, this looks delicious! But i really have to go”

Your face dropped from the optimistic smile, to dead cold. You realised that you and your feelings will always be second best to his double life as a superhero.

“Peter, please for once can you just sit down, and have a goddamn conversation with me” you spoke lowly, nearly pleading for him to just sit down and give you the time of day. You think you might’ve actually, finally, be seeing how absolutely tired you looked. 

“For fucks sake, can you appreciate just this one fucking thing!” your voice gradually went louder for each syllable your sentence hit. The look of defeat portrayed in your eyes pierced through Peter’s soul, he felt his heart drop at how tired your face seemed, the way you seemed to have distanced yourself the moment he dismissed your thoughtful dinner. 

“It’s- It’s like you don’t even care anymore Peter” you weren’t yelling, which scared Peter more than if you were to be screaming five centimeters from his face and waving your hands, it was like you had given up. “I bought you a gift, open it before you leave” you whispered out before grabbing your bag and leaving. 

Peter’s eyes followed your sulking body out the door, before landing onto the gift sat nicely on the table with a red and blue ribbon tightly secured around the small square container. He walked toward the table with his head held low, gently picking up the present, as he opened it his eyes filled up with tears and he sat down on the edge of the couch, realizing how badly he had fucked this up.

Sitting in the box was the refurbished watch Uncle Ben wore, the glass protecting the arms of the watch had been shattered and links had been missing. Uncle Ben wanted to get it fixed but passed before he could get a chance. Peter remembered showing this exact watch to you when he took you to meet Aunt May, it was left on the dresser the two had shared, Aunt May never could put it away.

“Fuck” Peter exhaled, he set the watch down and ran out the door, he was desperate to find you and beg on his knees for your forgiveness. He was well aware he didn’t deserve that, but the thought of losing you had just crashed down over his head like a piano falling from the sky.

As soon as he got outside the air of the looming fall hit his face, as he frantically looked around he noticed your figure sitting on a bench right outside the apartment complex, watching the cars and people pass you by. Peter took a breath of relief before stepping closer, only to realize the tears glistening off your face.

“Baby, I am so, so, so incredibly sorry” he quickly tumbled out the words as if he couldn’t stop them, your eyes met his when you heard his pleas. He had no idea how badly you wanted to just say “it’s okay” and forget about this whole thing but you knew better. 

You knew doing that would only allow for that behavior to continue, and you just can’t go on like that anymore.

“I had to work extra hours to be able to pay for that to be refurbished, you know?” you said with a bittersweet undertone lacing your voice, “and it’s not even that, it’s the fact you just didn’t fucking care” the words came with your gasps for air as sobs tore through your throat, “you don’t care.”

Peter could only look at you in anguish, he fights villains, he stops your average bad guy on a daily basis, he can even tell when something dangerous is about to happen before it does, but he couldn’t tell his girlfriend was breaking before his very eyes with him being the root cause.

He was the hammer to your mirror.

Sitting down on the bench right next to you, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you let out the most guttural sounds he’s ever heard come out of your body. He hates it. 

All Peter could do was rocking you back and forth, whispering apologies into your ear, promising to be better for you. 

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but all you could muster up was,

“Prove it.”

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 8

Rating: All good, nothing horrible

Warning: Ghost’s ego is dangerously large

Summary: At long last, you put two and two together.

Word Count: 926

ao3 link

Yet again, you were woken up by someone knocking on your door.

This new trend in your life was fucking annoying; nobody in your circle ever knocked on the door anymore, only ever texted to say they were outside and waiting. Sure, anyone with a delivery would knock, but that would be at a reasonable time of the day, not past midnight.

You went to investigate, tying your dressing gown tight over your pyjamas as you tiptoed through the living room. Ghost was still out on the sofa like a light, his face hidden underneath a cushion, Soap curled up on the armrest by his head. Neither stirred as you crept past them to the door. How could anything out there possibly be more terrifying than the beast on your sofa?

Still, you kept the chain on.

You peered through the peephole before even touching the door, squinting at the person on the other side. You didn’t recognise the man. He looked like someone’s dad- a full beard and moustache, complete with a little hat. Maybe if you ignored him, he would just go away. Fat chance. You could see him raising his hand to knock again, so you reluctantly went to the door, quietly opening it and frowning through the crack,

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. You seen Ghost?”

Who the fuck was this? And how on Earth did he know Ghost was asleep on your sofa?

“Who?”

“Come on now. You know Ghost. Simon.”

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong address. I don’t know a Simon.”

Why your first instinct was to lie was a mystery to you. Ever since Ghost had come into your life, it felt as though your entire being had shifted; you were wary, paranoid, and secretive. You hadn’t told a soul about Ghost, whereas before, any man that so much as text you ‘u up?’ had a full report to the group chat.

“You really gonna do this?”

“Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Inexplicably, you’d developed some sort of sixth sense for when Ghost was behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you could just feel him standing behind you. You reached behind you, grabbing onto the material of his jumper as your fingers brushed against it and attempting to pull him away from the door, out of sight of the strange man.

“Chrissake.”

So much for that. For a SAS man, he wasn’t great at being sneaky. Ghost moved you out of the way of the door, undoing the chain and opening it properly,

“S’only Price.”

You weren’t best pleased about another random man knowing where you lived, and you huffed,

“I’m sorry. Was I supposed to expect one of your lot to be at the door? It’s not like you wear badges.”

Unlike Ghost, Price didn’t seem to view everything of yours as his own, staying on the other side of the threshold, though his eyes did roam over the entranceway to your flat, gleaning whatever information he could take from it. Still, you didn’t appreciate it. Luckily for you, again, unlike Ghost, Price seemed to be able to take a hint. He looked at Ghost,

“I’ll be waiting in the car.”

When he was out of earshot, you looked over at Ghost, who was sat on your sofa putting his trainers on,

“I’m getting a little sick of soldiers showing up at my door in the middle of the night, you know.”

“Not the impression I got.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline, and you rounded on him,

“I beg your absolute pardon? You wanna repeat that?”

“Still haven’t put two and two together?”

You stared at him as he got to his feet, trying to figure out what the fuck he was trying to imply.

“Take your time, love.”

Ghost was such a non-human entity in your mind that you hadn’t even conceived of a reality in which you could mistake him for a normal human man. But now, all the similarities were laid out for you to see, and now, you couldn’t fathom how you hadn’t seen it until that second.

Motherfucker.

You pressed your fingers together, then to your mouth, your thoughts reeling with both humiliation and rage. You’d hit on Ghost in a bar. More than that, you’d hit on him while not recognising him at all. And he had rejected you.

“There you go.”

“You better get out my house right now.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

How could this cocky piece of shit be the same man that was broken just looking at Soap? He must still be drunk.

“On God, I will fucking kill you.”

“Come on, how was I supposed to give you my number if you already have it?”

You searched for anything nearby to fling at him, grabbing a little wooden statue your friend had carved and threw it at his head. Of course, he dodged.

“Gonna hurt me right after you tried to save me from Price? Please. I know your heart.”

You’d never stabbed a man before, but today seemed like it would be a good day to try. You picked up one of your stilettos from where it sat neatly on the shoe rack, advancing on Ghost with murderous intent, but he slipped past you to the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” He paused at the doorway, “I’m not gonna forget about this.”

You answered by flinging your heel at him as he shut the door.

[kikyoupdates]

Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑒

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

previous | story masterlist | next

“Sports festival?”

“Come on, we just had that villain attack the other day! Are you sure it’s safe?!”

You had heard of U.A’s Sports Festival, of course. It was one of the biggest events in Japan, with countless spectators and people watching from all around the country—some even from overseas. You’d only missed the first few days of class, but from the looks of it, a ton of things had already happened. Already, the Sports Festival was on its way, and you didn’t even know a thing about any of your classmates.

Goddammit, Mikael.

“The Sports Festival isn’t an event that can be canceled over a few villains,” Aizawa brushed off. “Compared to previous years, there’ll be five times the police presence just in case. Regardless, this event is one of the greatest opportunities you’ll get. The nation’s top heroes will be watching, looking to scout you based on your abilities. Naturally, you’ll gain valuable experience and popularity if you’re picked up by a big-name hero. You only get one shot at this every year, so it’s not something you can afford to miss.”

Some of your classmates were bubbling with excitement, while others had taken up a much more solemn, determined expression. You might have been a bit behind everyone, objectively speaking, but perhaps it would be to your advantage for this event that you’d started late. Nobody really knew what your powers were or how they worked, and even though they were your classmates, technically everyone in this room would be your rival.

Following Aizawa’s announcement came the regular academic classes, but you had a lot to think about. You were able to control your Quirk to the point that it didn’t affect anyone unintentionally, at least for the most part. Mikael had set aside much of his time to train you over the past few years, but even so, you still didn’t have any hands-on experience when it came to using it against a real enemy. The Sports Festival would be a good opportunity for you to test your limits.

Lunchtime came, finally, and you stood up only to realize that you didn’t have anyone to sit with in the cafeteria. You were the new girl. Sure, you could probably charm people and convince them into eating with you, but you didn’t like using your Quirk for trivial things like that.

“Out of the fucking way,” a brash voice growled, and you felt someone roughly slam into your shoulder as they passed you by. You blinked just in time to see your angry blonde desk neighbor glare at you as he walked past. You didn’t know what his deal was. Was he always this angry? Or had he caught on that you’d used your Quirk on him earlier?

Nah, I doubt that he could tell just from that…

You stood there, slightly confused, until you heard another voice call out to you. “[Name]-chan!” a bubbly brunette chirped. Her name was Uraraka, if you recalled. “You’re new here so you still haven’t met everyone properly, right? Do you want to eat with us?”

“Oh,” you smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” The blonde guy with the lightning bolt in his hair quickly interjected. “No fair, trying to hog her all to yourself! I’m Kaminari Denki,” he introduced with a goofy grin. “You’re super pretty! Can I have your number?”

You chuckled. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“What—really?!” He slapped his palms against his cheeks, incredulous. “No way… a girl this cute actually agreed to give me her number. I was expecting you to reject me flat-out…”

“Kaminari’s already being a sleazeball,” a short-haired girl sighed. “You can ignore him, [Name]. Nobody takes what he says seriously. Ah, I’m Jirou Kyoka, by the way.”

“Jirou, that’s so mean!”

“I was just giving her the facts.”

You hadn’t realized it, but before long, a group of students were crowding around you. Some of them had already left the classroom to go to lunch, but you were slowly making the rounds and getting to know everyone. Kaminari was apparently the class goofball and seemed to be the butt of many jokes, but you thought his awkward flirting was actually pretty cute so you’d gone ahead and given him your number, and while you were at it, exchanged numbers with some of the other students as well.

“I seriously can’t believe it,” Kaminari marveled, staring down at the contact screen of his phone with glossy eyes. “[Name]-chan gave me her number… I could die happy right now.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, “but please don’t die.”

“Are you worried about me? I love you already!”

Jirou had taken to swatting Kaminari’s head, and the other students were still laughing at his foolish little display. You decided to sit with Uraraka and her group after all, since she had been the one to come up to you first. The class president, Iida Tenya, was a very straight-laced character, but you could sense that he did everything out of the goodness of his heart. Then there was the other boy, Midoriya Izuku, the one who sat almost directly behind you in class and had been blushing the whole time he’d been looking at you. He had a meek, innocent nature to him, and you could already tell it wouldn’t take much for your Quirk to affect him.

“Thank you guys for being so welcoming of me,” you smiled as you sat down with your food. “I know I was technically only a few days late, but it feels like so much has already happened and I’ve missed a ton of things.”

Uraraka shook her head. “No, you’ll be fine! Actually, it’s honestly better that you weren’t there for the USJ attack. I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything! It’s just that it was pretty scary, so at least you didn’t have to go something like that.”

Iida nodded. “I agree. While facing off against actual villains serves as excellent learning experience, we were far too under-prepared for such an attack. We still need much more training.”

“[N-Name]-chan,” Izuku piped up, his cheeks flushed and his voice wavering slightly as he spoke to you. “Um… I hope I’m not being rude by asking or anything, but you sort of began mentioning why you started late when you introduced yourself? I mean, what was the reason you couldn’t start on time…?”

“Oh, that. I was in Greece,” you said simply.

“Greece?!”

All three of them had cried out in unison. You chuckled softly. “Yeah, Mikael travels a lot, and he brings me along with him often. Ah—Mikael is my legal guardian. I was raised in an orphanage, but I’ve been living with him for the last ten years.”

“So you travel a lot,” Uraraka breathed. “That’s so cool. My family could never really afford to go anywhere fancy, so I’ve never actually left Japan…”

You spooned a helping of your lunch into your mouth. “Yeah, so that’s basically it. Nothing too special. Besides the USJ attack, which was obviously a really big deal, was there anything else important that I’ve missed?”

“Well…” The brunette twisted her brows into a knot. “Aizawa-sensei threatened us with expulsion on our very first day, but that turned out to be a lie.”

“Hold up, what?”

“There was the trial of battle,” Iida declared. “The three of us here faced off against one another, where one side was acting as the heroes and the other as the villains. I, for some reason, was drawn to play the part of the villain! But I did my best to stick to the role for the sake of training. However, Bakugou and I still ended up losing against Midoriya and Uraraka…”

You pursed your lips. “Bakugou…”

“Kacchan’s the angry one. You sit next to him in class,” Izuku said, and you noticed the way his expression shifted.

“His name is Kacchan?”

“Erm, no—that’s just what I call him!” he said hurriedly. “His actual name is Katsuki, but I’ve called him that ever since we were kids, so… it just kind of stuck.”

“Oh, I see. The two of you are childhood friends?”

“N-No…” The atmosphere drastically shifted, and both Iida and Uraraka exchanged hesitant looks. Izuku was nervously running his fingers through his curly hair. “We used to be at some point… I guess? But that’s when we were really young. Now, my relationship with Kacchan’s just as bad as it can get. He can’t even stand being around me, and he says nasty things to me pretty much all the time.”

You slumped your shoulders, feeling a bit guilty. “I see. Sorry about jumping to conclusions.”

“I-It’s not your fault, [Name]-chan! You couldn’t possibly have known…”

“I suggest you keep your distance from him,” Iida advised. “He has an extremely volatile temperament. He doesn’t get along with anyone in the class.”

This Katsuki or “Kacchan” guy sounded just as bad as the impression he’d first given off. He’d been glaring at you outright even before you’d used your powers on him, which was strange, considering that ever since you’d obtained your Quirk people looked at you just the opposite. Come to think of it, you remembered him leaving the classroom for lunch all on his own. Did he really not have any friends? You felt kind of bad.

You decided to change the topic to something more pleasant, and you spent the remainder of lunch getting to know each other better. The bell eventually rang, and it was time to head back to class. You leaned over Izuku’s shoulder as he stood up from the table.

“I can tease him a bit if you want,” you whispered.

“Eek!” Izuku jolted the second your breath hit his neck, flushing an impossible shade of red. You’d never seen such a crazy reaction from someone without even using your Quirk. “W-What are you doing, [Name]-chan…?”

“Hm?” you smiled. “I just mean I can tease him, to get back at him for being mean to you. With my powers, I mean.”

“With your powers…?” he blinked. “But… how?”

You pressed a finger to your lips, smiling coyly. “That’s a secret. But just say the word and I’ll do it.”

The freckled boy stared at you in confusion, but you walked away before he could ask for an explanation. It was back to regular classes after lunch, but you knew you’d have to start putting together a game plan with the Sports Festival approaching.

Before you knew it, the school day was over.

“Whoa! What’s with all the people?”

You’d been all packed up and ready to head home for the day, only to find that a massive crowd of students was blocking the exit of the classroom. There was a ton of them—no doubt from all kinds of departments across campus. You heard someone let out a snort of derision and looked over to see Katsuki striding forward with his hands in his pockets. He kept you in the corner of his periphery, glaring all the while.

“Of course, you weren’t even here, so you don’t know shit about the situation,” he scoffed. “It’s obvious all these assholes are here to scope out the competition. They wanna get a nice good look at the class who survived the villain attack before the Sports Festival. But it’s pointless to try.” He turned towards the horde of students. “Fuck off, you goddamn mob.”

Does he kiss his mother with that mouth?

As was the normal reaction, the students began spewing insults and calling him names. Among them all, a single boy had waded to the very front and was looking Katsuki down with nothing but disappointment. He had tousled indigo hair and distinct dark circles under his eyes.

“I came to take a look at the students from the hero course, but I’ve gotta say, I’m a little disillusioned. Is everyone as conceited as you?”

“Huh?!”

“You know,” the boy went on, “there are quite a few of us who didn’t make the hero course and are stuck in things like the General Department. Depending on the results of this Sports Festival, it’s possible that to be transferred into the hero course. And of course, the reverse is also possible for you guys. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that for someone like me, this’ll be the perfect chance to knock you off your glorified pedestals. Consider this a declaration of war.”

You let out a whistle. “So bold! I kind of like that in a guy, though.”

“[N-Name]-chan?”

Others from the crowd were chiming in now, and it was clear that Katsuki’s little declaration had done more harm than good. Well, he had called them a mob, after all.

“Dude!” the redhead, Kirishima groaned. “Look what you’ve done! You went ahead and made us a bunch of enemies!”

Katsuki looked over his shoulder. His gaze met yours once more, and his crimson eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t matter. None of that shit matters once you reach the top.” With those as his parting words, he shoved his way through the crowd and left your bewildered classmates behind. He was a character, that was for sure, but there was some truth to what he’d said. Winning… you wanted to experience something like that, too.

“I’m back,” you yawned, slipping your backpack off the second you stepped through the door. Home, sweet home. You could hear an excited little squeal coming from one of the other rooms and you smiled. It looked like Rui was working today.

“My precious baby [Name]!” she enthused, jumping onto you, and wrapping you in a bear-hug. “How was your first day? Tell me everything!”

You hugged her back and giggled. “I will, I will. I’ll tell you what happened over dinner, but for now I just want to take a shower and get changed.”

She clasped your hands into hers, brown eyes wide and glossy. “Did you meet any cute boys?”

“Some of them were pretty cute, yeah.”

“Who was the cutest?”

“Hmm,” you frowned. “There was a blonde guy with spiky hair that was really attractive, but his personality kind of cancels it out. There’s another guy that has messy hair and looks a little sleep-deprived, but in a hot way, you know? Oh—and there’s this one guy that has curly hair and freckles and is all shy and cute.”

Rui began squealing and hopping up and down. “Date them!” she cried out. “Date them all! If it’s you, you can do it! You can get a hundred boyfriends, no problem!”

“Do I really need a hundred boyfriends, though?”

“Don’t underestimate the importance of a boyfriend,” Rui said, suddenly very somber and serious. “You need to enjoy your youth while you still can. Otherwise, before you know it, you’ll be in graduate school and still single… ugh.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “I think you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. You don’t need a relationship to have fun. Don’t let those assholes get to your head.”

“Easy for you to say, Mrs. Goddess of Love!”

“Right, right,” you sighed. “Don’t worry, we can look at memes later and you can tell me all about what douchebag it was this time.”

“Please! I’ll probably cry a lot, though!”

You chuckled softly as you walked off. A lot had happened in just your first day. There were a lot of people for you to get to know and preparing for the Sports Festival alone was a big ask. You were kind of craving something sweet right now. Maybe you’d raid Mikael’s stash later.

You just wanted to take a hot shower and relax—

“Um.”

Well, this was a development. You’d just set foot in your room, and for whatever reason, there was a stranger on your bed. A young man, by the looks of things, probably around eighteen years old. Maybe even a high-schooler. He had silvery-white hair, golden eyes, and he had visible scars on his neck, which poked out from underneath the loose collar of his shirt. Yeah, okay. You’d definitely never seen this guy before, but his eyes lit up with glee the second he caught sight of you.

“[Name]! You’re here!”

“Who the fuck—”

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💘 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[verstappenverse]

how do camgirl and max end up meeting irl? is it because max arranged it or just by accident? / does cam girl know who max is at that point? im giddy just thinking about how much max would lose his mind when it happens 😭

Okay, so I won’t go too in detail on this for 2 reasons, first I think this will be a major part of the main fic/part 2 but also mainly because I can’t decide 😭 I need you guys's input on this 🙏 here's what I'm thinking:

1 - Completely unplanned: They end up at the same event—a club/party, brand deal event, ect... Max spots her instantly because of course he does, he'd spot her anywhere. Meanwhile, she knows it’s Max Verstappen but has no idea it’s her Max. He tries to play it cool, determined to come across 'suave and confident', but the second she looks at him with those big eyes, lashes batting, he just… loses it. Max is an awkward, blushing, fumbling disaster. But there’s an undeniable spark, and she can't shake it.

2 - Max can’t leave it to chance—he’s way too obsessed for that. So he pulls all the strings he can, making some serious moves behind the scenes to get her on the guest list for a sponsor gala or exclusive event. He’s been planning this for weeks, thinking about every detail just to make sure she shows up. When she walks into the room in some breathtaking dress, Max almost blacks out. She’s even more beautiful in person, and it’s hitting him that this is real. He tries to introduce himself, but for a second all the confidence he’s planned vanishes. He’s drooling, brain fried, trying to steady his nerves as he stumbles over his introduction. But Max being Max, he regains his composure and spends the rest of the night working to charm her—soft touches, smirks, and some harmless flirty comments that leave her head spinning.

Meanwhile she’s totally clueless that this guy is the same person who’s been obsessing over her streams. She just knows there’s something magnetic about him, and it’s throwing her off her game. But Max? He’s thriving. His plan is working and he’s convinced that by the end of the night she’ll be just as hooked on him as he is on her.

3 - This one’s more mutual—they’ve been chatting privately for a while through dm's and private streams their connection deepening every day. Max proposes finally meeting, and to his shock (and relief) she agrees. He’s been counting down the days, obsessing over every detail, and replaying all their conversations in his head. He made sure the bar is private - he can’t risk anything ruining this.

When she walks in his heart nearly stops. She’s even more gorgeous in person and he can barely think straight. He’s staring, completely mesmerised, until she notices him. As she walks over there’s something familiar about him that she can’t place. But when she’s close enough to see his face properly it hits her like a ton of bricks. Max Verstappen. She freezes mid-step, wide-eyed.

Max notices her hesitation and immediately moves forward desperate to close the gap. “I - I was going to tell you,” he says, voice low and almost pleading. “I didn’t want to lie to you—I just needed to see you.”

----

Soooo… which one do we like the most? Or is there a better idea floating around? Let me know!

[moochii-daisies]

-18+, Minors DNI

- Genre//Pairing: fluff // idol yoongi x ditzy mess of a reader (they're the same age, reference to bein born in the 1900's)

- Summary: yoongi misses going to the movies, luckily - someone has a plan

- Length: 4.3k words

- warnings-content contains: swearing and yoongi has a lil sad moment (immediate comfort). reader and yoongi have unspoken (obvious) crushes on each other. cheesy use of d-day because song references bring me joy. they hold hands. because it's important to me that someone holds his hand. idk what it's like to be an idol this is loosely based on a daydream haha.

- Sidenotes: i think yoongi mentioned missing going to the movies in road to d-day? idk but the idea keeps popping up so i hope you enjoy and thank you for reading if you do <3 also - i think i read a fic a yr or so ago that first inspired this and if i can find it i'll post it here asap! (despite how this starts - i feel like yoongi would be so accepting and i hope that comes across)

──୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

     "no."

yoongi slams the door in my face before i'm able to get a word in. and ok yeah, this idea is ridiculous.

but i'm on a mission.

it's sole purpose?

is to get this man out of the damn house.

     the devil himself mumbles through the intercom outside his front door, "you of all people, can not tell me to leave." and to be fair, the devil has a point.

     yoongi and i met in a pretty cliche way: bumped into each other in an elevator at work. but it wasn't love at first sight.

to put it politely.

the first time we were introduced properly, all this man did was stare blankly and say, "ok." before loudly launching into a monologue about how some girl on the elevator had ruined his morning coffee. (i accidentally bumped his shoulder and made him drop it.)

     in the many months since then - choice words have been said and things got immature. we may or may not have driven each other insane by exclusively texting at obscene hours. and someone may have pushed every single button on the elevator once to make the other late (it backfired, we were both going to the same meeting.)

     weirdly enough and despite all of this, our mutual love of chillin' the fuck out has been strong enough to bond us together. our combined ability to not leave the house has led to us spending a lot of our free time in each other's company. usually i hide whenever the doorbell rings, "you're like a stray cat." is what yoongi always says, all because i hissed at the sound of the doorbell one time. in my defense, i never know who the hell is gonna walk through his door. and i only hissed cause i was really tired. i think jungkook had come over at 8am to drop something off before he went to bed.

also, we almost exclusively hang out at his penthouse apartment. he came over to my place exactly once and discovered that i'd stopped going to the grocery store. in my defense (again), convenience stores really are convenient.

     since i "keep myself alive with shit food and miracles" - according to yoongi, our friendship has evolved to be...dynamic to say the least.

     this time though, i'm not the one who needs help being a person.

this time is different.

     i knew yoongi was famous before we became friends but it pretty quickly became obvious that yoongi was such an extreme shut-in out of necessity, not his own free will.

     if i hadn't recognized it, he certainly would've let me know. the hints started to drop whenever we'd watch a movie, he'd grumble and throw pieces of popcorn into my hair -

"this would be way more fun if we were in a theater."

     he insisted he didn't really want to go though, so i dropped it initially. but then he started sighing while looking out the window.

longingly.

     his chest would heave while he peered around dark curtains in his living room. although, he only ever did it at nighttime, so i dunno what he was looking at exactly. we did help stop a mugger once - with the aid of gargantuan binoculars that he bought for a bird-watching phase. i can't deny, that part was pretty cool.

however - the popcorn has become an issue. it's like he always has it on his person, specifically to throw at me. i dunno how he manages to do it but, there have been a few meetings lately where the other members stopped to pick pieces of it out of my hair with skeptical looks.

     i've given every reasonable excuse for it at this point and they're starting to get strange (ex: "i like to eat it with my hair hanging over the bowl.") whenever i've tried to call out the person responsible, yoongi does that thing he does when he's trying to avoid something. he gazes off at nothing and pretends to think very hard. usually, while he's walking away.

    all of this is to say - that's kinda why i'm here now: arguing with yoongi, locked outside of his apartment, with three giant bags weighing on my arms.

     " i, for some reason, am the only person who can tell you to leave." i smash down the button of the intercom to relay my response.

hobi led the group call initially -

     ok, i say group call. but this was the entire conversation:

hobi: yoongi?

jin: yep.

jimin: mhm.

taehyung: yup.

namjoon: yeah.

jungkook: yerp.

hobi: got it?

- ...

hobi: got it?

me: yes!

- call ended -

     i haven't really gotten that close with them yet.

and as far as i can tell, this is up to me.

apparently.

     yoongi scoffs through the monitor and static tickles down my ears.

     "you're the boss." is all he says.

     i can see the smirk on his face despite being on the other side of the door.

there's a moment of silence after that.

a moment that i break.

     "he who shall not be named! these are heavy and you have neighbors and i have time today. and i also! have no! shame!" yoongi pulls me through the door mid-shout.

     "are you fuckin' kidding me? you apologized to a tree for laughing too loud." his grip on my upper arm slides down to yank a bag out of one hand.

     "well, if it had been a person then it would've been polite." i huff and wobble on one leg, trying to get both shoes off hands free.

     as i look down at my stupidly tight boots, another bag lifts off of my arm.

     the sound of it crinkling is followed by a very heavy sigh.

     i triumphantly wrangle the second shoe off and grin at yoongi.

     "get out." he says sternly, then shoves the bags back against my chest.

     i grip onto his hands before he can pull them away.

with a small tug, and once he leans his face in closer, i whisper out, "no."

     he bonks his forehead against mine gently with a low, "okay, good." and we both smile on our way to the kitchen and dining area.

     once i've set the bags on the dark oak table i turn to him as seriously as i can, "ok but for real, if i have to watch you sigh while lookin' out the window one more time? i'm gonna lose my mind. plus, it'll be fun! you always say so..."

     i forget about trying to look serious and swing my hips back and forth as i talk.

     yoongi leans against clean kitchen countertops, crossing both arms and one foot over the other.

     "the simplicity is what i miss most." he's wry with his words, wrinkling his nose.

     i groan and rifle through the bags, "well when you start to sigh about that then i'll work on it. for now though, we've got...this!"

      shaking an ankle length tweed trench-coat, i turn to him with an encouraging nod.

     "this is gonna help me be unnoticed?" he asks incredulously.

     instead of answering, i dive back into the bag, rummaging around until i find a plastic pipe next.

     "might i suggest these for you sir?" i walk around the table and wave the trench-coat around in the air.

     "c'mon, you know you wanna. i already got us tickets on my phone! it's that new gambling movie where everything's tense the whole time but, the soundtrack has some composers you like -" i didn't mean to let that last part slip out.

     yoongi's lips twitch and he snatches the trench-coat away from me. then he gripes out:

     "hat."

just one word, accompanied with an expectant look.

     "please don't talk to me like i'ma dog." even though i say this, i reach into the bags to find the right one.

     yoongi smirks and takes a Sherlock Holmes style hat away from me.

     he jerks his chins at the bags and softly commands, "you."

i pull out an oversized men's suit, bowler hat and fake mustache from the middle one.

      yoongi's deadpan, "did you just wanna dress like Holmes and Watson." and i open my mouth to respond, then close it, twice.

     "look - it's D-Day. we're in disguise, it's like a sneaky mystery. like, nobody is gonna know except us and you can't throw popcorn at me!" i sneak in the request i've been too scared to ask at the end. it's easier to say with my eyes closed but, that doesn't cover how red my face feels.

     it's silent for a weird amount of time and i peek an eye open to glance at him.

     "change." is all he says as he squints at the ceiling, and i try not to skip on my way down the hall to the bathroom.

as i do, i hear his rumbling complaints bounce off the walls around me. the way my heart is thudding makes both ears strain for it, seeking it out.

"you keep calling it D-Day like that means something. but do i say no? of course not. why would i..."

i'm glad he can't see the smile on my face as i shut the door behind me. one deep, calm breath and my heartbeat settles back to normal.

     yoongi likes jasmine, tobacco and cedarwood. he's got those aroma reed incense jar things in every room. i've learned that he sticks with jasmine when he's moody, and that cedarwood is reserved for very good days. tobacco's kind of a mixed bag though. like, one day he was really dedicated to making a stew. as in, all day long - it was next level incredible though.

on another tobacco day, he got himself into a funky mood from reading too many crime novels. i know we both wound up believing that we were actually figuring out an unsolved case but, that was a sleep-deprived 5am belief.

     anyways, today it's jasmine.

i wiggle into the baggy suit and place the bowler hat on top of my head. it's so big that i can only see the reflection of my chin when i look in the mirror. it's always soft lighting at yoongi's place. decorations? eh, he's made it look nice but it isn't a priority. harsh lighting though? it makes him so irritable that he called jungkook over one day to help him switch all of the lightbulbs out for ones labeled, "soft and gentle". the overhead light is never on in his apartment and despite the black wood accents, nothing looks lifeless or dark. instead, it's all just warm.

everything in his place is always warm.

     "what if we don't do this and we never speak of this again?" yoongi grumbles on the other side of the bathroom door and my fake mustache teeters as i fight off a grin.

     handlebar secured - i fling the door open, except, all i can see is a bit of yoongi's broad back as he hides behind the wall. a few steps to my right and just around the corner, i try to take a sneaky glimpse but our eyes meet directly. he frowns, rolls his in an exaggerated manner - and tries not to laugh. the hat is squishing his cheeks together in a way that makes me want to giggle just as much as it makes me want to bite them.

     "perhaps you do need a hat." i hold a hand over my mouth and duck my head away from his gaze.

     "are you...laughing at me?" he leans over to regain eye contact. if he's trying not to look amused, he isn't putting much effort into it.

     "nyope. no. i dunno what you're talkin' about." i twist my lips together, attempting to hold back my smile. then yoongi starts snaking his neck around, chasing my averting eyes with a side-smile sliding across his face.

     long, wide fingers stretch out and palm the top of my bowler hat.

"gimme a good one." he teases, then steers my head over to the bags and patiently waits for me to find him a better one.

i whip around with an oversized floppy sunhat in my hands.

"i think it's perfect." is all i can say.

unfortunately, i can't hide my beaming grin as i do.

yoongi scoffs and rips the hat out from my grip before ironically growling, "then put it on me."

it comes out deep enough that it hits the pit of my stomach.

he holds it hostage in front of his body, just in front of his hips - and watches me with such a probing curiosity, my cheeks feel like they're steaming.

every part of me vibrates as i reach for it. i don't know what's making me so nervous. it's just putting a hat on his head. my attempt to tease him comes out in a mumble, "what? you scared you won't look handsome?"

yoongi tilts his head, the inquisitive stare bearing down on me makes the dining room shrink - trapping both of us inside of it.

"do you think i'm handsome?" his tongue pokes out of his mouth and he exhales a laugh while i smack him on the shoulder with one of my suit sleeves.

"you know i do fucker." the words tumble out of me without permission and all i can do is hope that i said them fast enough, and incoherently enough, for him to not understand.

he chuckles and turns a shoulder in a half-assed move, avoiding my half-assed blows. then he adjusts the giant sunhat, two pouty lips grin at me from underneath its brim. as soon as the plastic pipe tucks between them he asks, "to the movies?"

i push down on the fake mustache tickling under my nose, "indubitably."

i don't need to think about how handsome yoongi is or why he asked what i think or how going to the movies alone together kinda feels like a date. even if we're dressed like...well, kinda like if Holmes was having a gardening day and Watson lost all of the suits that fit him.

as we tug on our shoes, yoongi loses it over the fact that i only remembered to bring ankle boots. one red pointed toe sticks out from beneath the suit's pant leg.

"so stylish." he muses.

i trip over my own feet and ignore that he says this, "gimme your shoulder please."

yoongi smirks but dips one shoulder down slightly so i can place a hand on it for balance. once the most frustrating shoes in the world have been put back on, he casually reaches up to weave his fingers through mine.

he doesn't say anything about it, just stealthily moves towards his front door so he can stick one eye against the peephole. holding my hand as he does.

"Watson," he loudly whispers back at me, "i think this is broken." and i tear my eyes away from our intertwined hands.

in just as loud of a whisper i shoot back, "or maybe nobody's outside and we should move Holmes."

my hand is squeezed in response and i know i should help with being a lookout but, the way our fingers look together is doing something to the inside of my brain. something that makes it hard to breathe.

was his hand always so big?

it's like our hands lock together at the knuckles.

like they've both finally slid into place.

hey yoongi, did you know we're holding hands?

were you aware? that you held my hand and also are now holding it?

the objects of my fascination yank out of view as yoongi hurries us through the door and down the hall.

"go, go, go." he repeats the words under his breath and the dampness of his palm makes his nervousness a bit more blatantly apparent.

i match his pace.

he does this funny thing whenever he gets speedy - both arms lift up to his sides like a professional power walker. except this time as he does it, he doesn't let go of my hand.

so we power walk to the elevator at the end of the hall, side by side. neither of us say a word, aside from his looping "go, go, go" until the metal doors before us ding and we make it safely inside.

unseen.

well, no.

     we see ourselves in the reflection of the elevator doors and neither of us can keep our eyes open as we're hit with continuous rolls of laughter.

the mood sobers once a second ding lets us know that we've made it down to the parking garage.

now it's my turn to lead.

ok, it would be my turn to lead except - the moment that we walk by yoongi's car - he halts.

"look. look how safe and inside and fast we could get there with this instead. we live in a modern world, not the 1800's or whatever." he bounces as he whines and it's so cute that i physically feel a scream bloom within my chest.

i try my absolute hardest to appear unmoved.

with a tug on his hand i let out an exasperated sigh, "Holmes is basically from the 1900's. which - mind you - we were born in. AND, how will we know that the disguises work if we don't put them to the test? hm?"

i can't decipher all of the emotions in yoongi's expression, amused appears to be one of them at least. the ghost scent of jasmine wafts under my nose as i gaze at him. a nervousness restlessly attempts to settle itself in my pulse.

then yoongi stops hiding.

both shoulders curve forward as he sinks in on himself. silver-grey hair hangs over his face while he stares at the ground.

"i miss bein' a person." the words are spoken to the asphalt beneath our feet, they come out a little bitterly.

"i can't do things that make me...relate to people anymore. i can't do things like, like people do - you know? no, you don't." yoongi answers his own question, then takes a deep breath before he continues.

"i think i feel like a person around you and i'm grateful, i hope that isn't doubted but - who i am now can't...be a person. all the time." one shoe scuffs against the floor. he's wearing his favorite comfy Vans.

i know he put them on so i wasn't alone in wearing goofy shoes but, he still pulls the look off.

he chews on the plastic pipe, looking lost in thought - and even that he pulls off well.

i can't think of anything that feels right to say and it's not an optimal method but, i open my mouth with the hope that something good comes out of it.

"you're right. that i don't know what it's like but - um, but that's why this plan is so potentially perfect! we're just pretending to be wonky Holmes and Watson, so it doesn't count as real people time. is that bad? well uh, we can have someone follow us? in case it backfires or something?" i feel my voice pitch up, what feels like, a few octaves as i finish speaking.

a gummy smile beams out from under his sunhat before he pats the hood of his car twice. a man in a suit and dark sunglasses pops up in the drivers seat, the sudden appearance makes me yelp.

with buckled knees i hiss out, "are you fuckin' kidding me yoongi? you couldn't just tell me he was coming?" my grip around his hand tightens and i cling around his bicep.

yoongi just shrugs, "eh, it seemed like an opportunity to get closer. c'mon Watson." and he strides forward, like the conversation never happened at all.

the black car behind us feels off putting at first, but pretty soon, we're so engrossed in the roles that i forget all about it.

yoongi really loves the pipe. he nibbles on it between speaking as we tuck behind a wall.

"the lady in the red hat seems like a clue," he softly murmurs, "like a clue to something...mysterious."

my eyes narrow, "please never become a detective."

"oh i'm sorry sidekick. did you say something? something that undermines your lead detective?" he bickers back with a wiggle of his head. we keep up the petty argument as we trail behind the lady in the red hat until she turns away from the path to the theater.

"ok, well. she's no longer a suspect for now." yoongi clears his throat and my chance to retort disappears as soon as he see's a small group of young adults walking ahead of us, towards the direction of the theater.

with an unexpected quickness, yoongi squats down behind a garbage can - holding our hands on top of his knee.

"i'm out. this is so fuckin' stupid. not elementary, dear Watson. the opposite of elementary." he says this urgently but doesn't budge.

"we are two talking chins. that's all the world can see Holmes, and all we need to do is get snacks. then we're in the dark. and i'm buying! you don't even need to talk to anyone! you can just, i dunno - hide behind me." i don't know why i'm whispering.

"oh sure, i'm letting you buy." is scoffed into my face and i'm reminded of the first time we were introduced properly.

i jolt to my feet with renewed stubbornness, "gimme your card then. cause you know what isn't super sneaky? hiding behind, maybe the only, public trash can in the area. let's go, let's go, let's go."

yoongi makes an assortment of disgruntled sounds but stands up and shuffles to stand behind me. my left arm folds behind my back because we both silently refuse to let go of the other's hand.

"it looks like you're holding me hostage." i murmur back to him as we approach the theater.

hard plastic presses against my lower back and, "pew pew." rumbles against my ear.

yoongi keeps speaking, "huh, it's emptier than i expected."

i twist around to give him an impish stare.

"movie theater's typically are on tuesday morning's." i mimic his deadpan delivery and get a snorted laugh out of him.

we shuffle towards the concession stand, yoongi jokingly asks for popcorn and dodges the elbow i jab back at him.

fried chicken, a cherry-coke slushie and a bag of sour candy successfully acquired, we find our way over to theater room three. yoongi holds the first in one hand (because, "i don't trust you with my chicken.") and i balance the other two. our held hands remain threaded together.

"you better not throw any of these at me." i frown, struggling to force the candy bag into a suit pocket.

"does my hand bein' sweaty bother you?" yoongi bluntly asks and i trip up the first step towards our seat. usually, he likes to be up in the back and in the corner - out of sight, where it's easy to slip in or out if necessary. today, i want him to experience the Best Seats. mid-way up, directly in the center. that isn't the point but it's all i can let myself think.

i only realize i've been staring at him instead of responding when he tries to unclasp our hands.

"it doesn't! it doesn't!" i panic and squeeze my fingers around him. even in the dark room and under cover of his sunhat, pouty lips twitch up into a smile.

"if anyone else comes and i hafta pee these 'Best Seats' automatically lose three points." he chuckles and steps ahead of me. as we trudge up the steps, the pre-show clips rolling on the big screen sound like they're incredibly far away.

"oh sure, i'd expect a full house at 9am." the snicker at my sarcasm brings an unwanted blush across my face. he leads us to our seats while i stare at the floor, red cheeks hiding beneath my bowler hat.

chicken secured, slushie in it's rightful cup holder - we plop into the cushioned seats with budding excitement. i bounce a bit in my chair as i ramble about the Experience of going to the movies until he unlinks our fingers. the palm of my hand feels unbearably empty without his pressing against it but he doesn't let it go, he keeps it on the top of his thigh - wiping the other off against his tweed trench-coat.

"you may not mind but i don't want you holdin' a sweaty hand all day." yoongi states calmly.

the notion that he imagines holding hands outside of this movie scheme makes me choke on spit and i whip the slushie out of its holder to suck down icy cherry-coke. a freezing burn brings sweet relief from whatever the hell is buzzing through my bloodstream.

"you're so considerate." the words come out of me a bit strangled and yoongi wraps a warm hand around my throat. he jerks his chin up so that the sunhat flops back a bit, with a knowing look and one lifted eyebrow. then he casually remarks - "look at what you just did, not considering you stresses me out. of course i mean it in a good way, shush. better now?"

i nod dumbly as the freezer burn subsides. grateful for him and his warmth, and for the darkness that blankets us - equally infuriated at the screen lights for shining directly on our rosy pink faces.

as yoongi opens his mouth to speak again, the lights all fade to black. a booming voice throughout the otherwise empty theater informs us the show is about to begin.

my fingers twitch against his thigh and i feel my wrist turn without me telling it to. long digits push through mine before they curl around the knuckles. out of the corner of my eye, i watch him relax and spread both legs wide.

in a hushed voice i ask him, "D-Day, good day?"

soft lips push against the tops of my fingers before something's flung into my hair with a snort.

"D-Day, very good day."