#beta wade save me

[scrimpswrites]

Alpha Wade this, in heat Wade that, where’s beta Wade dealing with everyone else’s proclivities because he can handle it better than anyone?? This man is a certified vers, a qualified switch, a professional bicycle, and everybody is taking a ride on their heats and ruts!!

[wadebox]

Wrote a shaymien fic and made an edit instead of sleeping, never been this creative and productive since I dropped out of uni. I miss having a pc with Premiere Pro tho

[tightjeansjavi]

♡ And They Were Roommates ♡

chapter 1 : The Guard Dog

Pairing | Joel Miller x Logan Howlett x f!reader

A/N: this chapter got away from me so fast, but I’m really pleased with how it turned out! After seeing Deadpool & Wolverine for the first time a couple weeks ago, I immediately re-entered my marvel phase and rewatched both Deadpool movies and all of the x-men/wolverine movies (yes, it’s an obsession) the Wolverine was always one of my favorite marvel characters outside of Deadpool and Iron Man. I’m so happy that myself and others are taking the leap to write for him and other characters 🥹 I hope you all enjoy this mini series! I’m super excited for it 💗 comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you @sinsofsummers for betaing and letting me yap at u! And thank u @syd-djarin for also letting me yap 🥰

word count: 8.8k

Summary: after saving the world with Wade, Logan finds himself in a new, strange world. Human life is scarce, (as far as he can see). There’s weird looking mushroom-headed fucks, and he doesn’t have a clue what year it is, either. After traveling aimlessly for months, the Wolverine runs into you, and your guard dog of a boyfriend, Joel Miller.

Warnings: mature themes, smut, implied age gap, brief mention of a gunshot wound, touch of angst, language, derogatory comments about mutants (by Joel) alcohol consumption, brief mention of ouid, pining, hints of a throuple/love triangle, voyeurism (sorta) this Logan is the ‘worst’ variant, but you can picture him however you’d like!, reader has no physical descriptions (I imagine her to be short, but she is a blank slate) +18, minors dni!

series masterlist

If someone had told you before the outbreak that in 20ish years, (math is not my strong suit, sorry) you would be living the life of “luxury” with not only one guard dog as a boyfriend, but two who also were boyfriends, you would have laughed in that person's face and told them that they were in fact insane—but now? Now you wouldn’t even question it. Your life in Jackson before meeting Joel Miller and Logan Howlett was the closest thing to normalcy that you had experienced since the outbreak. You had a home again, a job, and a purpose. But like all things, you were craving more; something new and exciting. Instead of you finding it, Joel Miller found you—or was it the other way around?

He was old fashioned in every sense. Insisting on properly pursuing you after you caught his eye at the corner of the bartop of the tipsy bison. Your care-free spirit and intoxicating aroma had his mind reeling at the thoughts of what he could be doing to you if it was just the two of you in the Bison, all alone with no distractions or disturbances.

He hadn’t thought about women, or sex, or settling down with someone in over 20 years. But here you were, throwing back another shot of whiskey and subconsciously unnerving him further without having any idea as to what it was that you were doing to him.

You were, however, aware that he was watching you, carefully between his harsh swigs from the glass that was perfectly perched in one of his meaty palms.

Mr. New and Exciting is right there. What are you waiting for? Your mind pointed out the obvious as if there was a flashing arrow right above the man’s head of thick, salt and peppered streaked curls that you were dying to run your fingers through.

You downed the remaining contents of your glass for that extra boost of liquid courage and made your move before he could even properly execute his own plan to approach you.

He stiffened, jaw ticking when he felt the bare heat from your arm brush against his own, sending sparks shooting down his forearm all the way down to where his large hand was tightly gripping the glass.

“I’m here to break the ice between us, stranger. Y’know, considering you’ve been staring at me for the past…hour.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffed, bringing the rim of his glass up to his lips for a moment. “Think you oughta get your eyes checked out first before ya start makin’ accusations.” He grumbled, low and deep. His eyes flickered in your direction, brows furrowed together across his forehead in a harsh line.

“Think my eyes are working just fine, thank you very much.”

He tore his harsh gaze away from your face and focused his attention on the mounted moose head on the wall instead. “Buzz off, darlin’. I ain’t lookin’ for conversation.” He snarled and went to slide off the worn down seat, but he was frozen in his spot when your hand wrapped around his bulging bicep, and he felt like a leashed, obedient dog.

“You think I’m here to talk?” You laughed and he immediately felt a hot flush rise from his neck and creep up his face at your brash confidence.

“Ain’t that what most women want nowadays?” He countered your boldness with a gravelly chuckle that sent warmth immediately spreading across your entire body at the scratchy, deep, sound that emitted from his throat.

“Lucky for you, I’m not like most women. Now, how about instead of eye fucking me from across the bar, why don’t we skip the small talk and you take me home instead?” You said with a coy smile and a suggestive tilt of your chin. You loosened your grip around his bicep only to then drag your fingers down the expanse of his arm, watching the muscles there subtly flex from your featherlight touch.

He weighed out his options, glancing around the crowded bar, leaning in close to crowd your personal space entirely. His eyes flickered down towards your lips, and then his heedy gaze met your own almost in a challenge.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, darlin.’” He rasped, reaching for your hand.

And only when you found yourself with your back pressed against Joel Miller’s front door, and his lips attacking your own, did he finally tell you his name between bruising kisses and wandering hands.

And well, the rest is history.

~~

Your arrangement with Joel worked flawlessly for an entire year, and while you both were content without having any labels, being known as Joel Miller’s girl never failed to make your heart melt, and he fucking turned into a goddamn puddle on the floor anytime he got to hear refer to him as your boyfriend.

Life truly could not have gotten better for either of you, but it certainly could get worse in Joel’s case of repeated misfortune. That misfortune being Logan Howlett, the last standing mutant to exist in this universe and now the bane of Joel’s existence.

“What in the fuck are those things comin’ out of your hands?!” A very angry, cold, and bewildered Joel Miller barked over the metallic click of the Wolverine's claws being unsheathed between his knuckles.

“Ya got two workin’ eyes, don’t ya, pal? The fuck do they look like to you?!” The stranger growled, advancing towards the other man.

“Joel?!” Another man’s voice was heard in the distance, followed by thundering hooves and a sharp whinny.

“I got this handled, Tommy!” The other man snapped when Tommy rode up beside him, immediately hopping down from the saddle with his rifle at the ready at the immediate threat in front of them.

Logan was able to quickly piece together with limited information that these two men were brothers, just based on their similar looks and mannerisms.

“Listen, boys, if I was you, I’d lower them guns and pretend that ya never crossed paths with me.”

“Are those fuckin’ knives coming out of his fists?!” Tommy Miller whispered to his brother who nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, he’s some mutant freak. Somethin’ FEDRA musta cooked up.” Joel responded in an equally hushed whisper.

Logan swiftly turned his head to the side, an audible cracking sound in his neck could be heard through the chilling evening air. “You’re really gonna regret callin’ me that, bub.” He snarled, barring his teeth like a rabid dog and advanced forward with full intent to slash his claws through the other man’s chest.

Joel’s reflexes were surprisingly fast even in his age, and when Logan advanced forward, he pulled the trigger on his own rifle, the shot ringing through and startling a flock of birds in a nearby tree, sending them flying upwards towards the sky in a haphazardly direction, squawking loudly.

The bullet hit Logan square in the chest, but the Wolverine barely even staggered backwards from the force of the bullet, and he let out an animalistic, nothing-short-of-pissed-off growl while the two men a short distance away had equal looks of horror on their faces when Logan’s body began to push the embedded bullet out from his chest and heal the once open wound.

The single bullet landed in the snow beneath Logan’s boots just as a high pitched whistle could be detected in the distance.

“What the actual fuck…his body can regenerate itself?!” Tommy whispered to his brother in disbelief.

Joel ignored him and raised his rifle towards the Wolverine again, thumb hovering over the trigger when you appeared on your horse through the snowy cluster of evergreens.

“JOEL! HOLD YOUR FIRE!” You demanded and swung your leg over the saddle, landing on the ground without fault and quickly inserted yourself between the Miller Brother’s and the seething Wolverine with your hands lifted in the air above your head.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?!” Joel diverted his attention to you and your untimely arrival. “Get behind me! We don’t know who or what the fuck this guy is, and he’s clearly dangerous!”

“Listen to your girl, bub. Lower your fuckin’ gun and jus’ let me pass, and we can forget this whole thing fuckin’ happened!” Logan yelled over your shoulder, nostrils flaring and muscles flexing with unbridled rage.

“Will you both just shut the fuck up?!” You snarled in frustration and glared over your shoulder at your unpredictable boyfriend. Let’s all just lower our weapons and take some deep, calming, breaths.”

“Un-fuckin’ believable.” The Wolverine scoffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at your assertiveness.

Joel and Tommy both slowly and very reluctantly lowered their rifles towards the ground, but the Wolverine’s extended metal claws did not retract at your demand.

“That includes you too, knives.”

Logan couldn’t help but smirk at your choice of nickname given the current circumstances. Man, you had some bigger balls than your boyfriend, that was for damn sure.

“Say it to me a little more gently, sweetheart. Your boyfriend over there got me all riled up, and I jus’ really wanna slash him to bits right now.” He cooed, smirk only then expanding into a wide, toothy grin at both your reaction, and Joel’s.

“Hey! Don’t you fuckin’ talk to her, you—”

“Alright, boys!” You hissed and turned your back so it was fully facing Joel. “Now, this ain’t some contest to see who has the bigger cock, alright? Looks like y’all got off on the wrong foot…clearly.” You stated the obvious.

“Yeah, and I was just passin’ through the area when your boyfriend and I unfortunately crossed paths.” He said gruffly, hackles raised in irritation.

“You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend, he can be trigger happy at times, but within reason. So, let’s start this whole thing over, alright?”

“Think we should just send this freak on his way—”

“JOEL!” You and Tommy whispered loudly in unison.

“Maybe you oughta put a muzzle on that one. Seems like he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” Logan snickered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him, alright? He’ll get muzzled later. So, uh—where exactly are you headed…?” You questioned him warily, realizing that you still didn’t know this mysterious man’s name.

As if he was capable of reading your mind, he could tell by your facial expressions and body language alone that you were wondering what his name was.

“It’s Logan.” He answered your hypothetical question softly, far softer than he had spoken to Joel. “Logan Howlett. That’s my name. And to answer your question, I’m not headed anywhere in particular. Like I said, jus’ was passin’ through the area. Not lookin’ for trouble.” He lowered his fists to his sides, claws finally retracting into his knuckles, the skin healing over instantly.

“Logan.” You repeated his name just as softly. “I understand that you were just passing through, but unfortunately, we can’t just let people pass through without stopping them and questioning them.”

“Yeah, well, don’t think your boyfriend had any intention of just questioning me, sweetheart. S’a good thing that you arrived jus’ in time, cause the way that I see it…” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and cockily tilted his head to the side, “you wouldn’t have a boyfriend anymore, and woulda been bringing what’s left of him back home in pieces.”

Joel’s muscles went rigid and his eyes darkened, appearing like two black holes instead of the comforting warm brown tone that you were accustomed to. He shook off Tommy’s hand immediately when he went to grab his shoulder to drag him away from the intense brewing situation.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your temples with your gloved fingers. Fucking men and their big dicks and even bigger egos. Un-fucking-believable.

“That is quite enough!” You snapped through the frigid air. “Tommy, please be a doll and escort your brother back to town. I can handle this on my own.”

“Like hell—”

“She’s got this handled, Joel. She’s more than capable. If she ain’t back within the next hour, we’ll come back.” Tommy reassured him with a gentle, yet firm squeeze to his shoulder.

“Fine.” Joel muttered under his breath, pulling his shoulder free again and took a few steps towards you. “See you at home, baby.” He whispered only for your ears to hear and pulled you in for a swift kiss on the lips.

Logan couldn’t help but let out a low wolf whistle at the sight. Fair play. He mused to himself.

“Yeah, see you at home.” You mumbled against his lips, kissing him back and gently shoving him away towards the direction of Tommy and their awaiting horses.

“That’s some guard dog of a boyfriend that you got yourself there, darlin’,” Logan said in amusement, unsheathing his middle claw in Joel’s direction with a condescending and dripping in arrogance grin.

“You have no idea.” You said with a light laugh, turning on your heel to face him again. “So, you’re just passing through the area, right?”

His middle claw retracted slowly with a clink, and he crossed his broad arms against his chest with a tight nod of his head. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Are you infected?”

“The fuck—infected? I don’t got a goddamn clue what you’re talkin’ about, sweetheart.”

“Y’know, the cordyceps infection? The outbreak happened like…twenty somethin’ years ago, but there’s still infected roaming about.”

“Huh.” He chuckled softly, balancing his weight from one foot to the other. “That would explain the lack of humans that I’ve run into lately. This earth seems pretty damn scarce.”

“This…earth? I don’t think I quite pick up what you’re putting down, Logan.”

He pushed out a deep sigh and slowly dragged a hand over his face. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Alright, and your claws…have you always had them?”

He steeled his expression, lips curving downwards into a subtle frown, and his body language alone was an indication that you crossed an invisible boundary.

“Since I was a kid, yes.” He flexed his hands and stared at them as if they weren’t attached to his body. “Used to be less…metal.”

“And what about the fact that your body can regenerate itself and heal? Is that…part of your mutation?” You gestured to the bullet laying in the snow by his boots, still stained with his blood, and yet there was no sign of a wound in his chest any longer.

“Yeah. I still…feel physical pain like everyone else, but it only lasts for a second at most. Well, depending on the severity of the wound, and how many I sustained.”

A hidden flush rose up his cheeks and he coughed into his shoulder to hide his bashfulness from your prying eyes. He gave you a disgruntled look, nodding in an attempt to be polite, but it came out gruffer than he intended. “The hell is FEDRA?”

It was your turn to feel flustered beneath his stare, and stoic demeanor. You almost didn’t notice the way you spewed out the facts, familiar to you like the back of your own hand.

He inclined his head, but looked back up and narrowed his eyes. “And these…infected? They used to say that about us—I mean, me. What’s the difference?”

You tried not to look so shocked at his confessions of ignorance, and somehow managed to blurt out an explanation.

“Oh, those mushroom head lookin’ freaks? Yeah, I’ve run into them a few times here and there, but they all run away from me.” He shrugged. “What in god's green earth is a rat king?”

Your eyes widened drastically. You had never heard of such a thing. “You’re telling me that the infected run away from you? There’s no way—I mean, that’s a first. The rat king is…never mind. Let’s just hope you don’t meet one.”

“Might have somethin’ to do with the Adamantium is my guess. Gotta say, they’re pretty nasty lookin’.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You snorted under your breath. “Look, Joel is probably gonna kill me, but given the current circumstances…do you want to come back to town with me? You’re a long way from wherever you came from, and well, you look like you could use some rest and a proper meal.” You knew with full intent that offering Logan to come back to Jackson with you was risky for a multitude of reasons, and the biggest reason was knowing that Joel was gonna throw a fucking fit.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would really like that idea, sweetheart.” He said with a sigh, picturing what the next few months would be like in total isolation, with no reprieve or end.

“He’ll give me an earful about it, but morally, I can’t just leave you out here alone. So, are you capable of riding a horse?” You gestured with your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of your horse impatiently pawing at the snow.

“I suppose a bit of hospitality doesn’t sound all that bad. Y’all got liquor? Could use me a stiff drink about now. And yeah, I know a thing or two about riding.”

Oh.

“We got more than just liquor, Logan.” You leaned in with a small grin, “we got a bar, bacon, and endless whiskey that has since been perfected by Joel’s brother, Tommy. He’s the more reasonable one out of the pair.”

“Shit. Are ya serious? Bacon and whiskey?” His mouth was already watering at the phantom taste of liquor on his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a damn good drink.

“Deadly serious.”

“Well then, lead the way.” He nodded in your horse's direction.

You made the choice to stay in the front of the saddle while Logan situated himself on the back and instinctively wrapped his arms around you. “Sorry.” He whispered when he felt your body tense up in his loose grip. “Old habits.”

“S’alright. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” You tighten your grip around the leather reins, squeezing your calves against the horse's side followed by a gentle click of your tongue to urge the horse into a trot.

The ride back to Jackson was a comfortably quiet one, and it was obvious that Logan wasn’t much of a small talker, and you were more than okay with that.

The only sound between you and him was the occasional squeak of the saddle, a soft snort from your horse, and the thundering hooves across the almost frozen landscape. You slowed to a lope, reaching behind you blindly into the saddlebag and grabbed a white flag, raising it in the air above your head.

The large, looming gates that protected Jackson from outside forces were suddenly pulled open, revealing the hidden community inside and Logan was completely awestruck.

You looked over your shoulder to see his reaction, and you couldn’t help the smile that slowly crossed over your lips at the sight of this brutish, and conflicted man, almost with tears in his eyes because he was seeing what remained of civilization and humanity at the core.

~~

To say that Joel was pissed when you showed up with that fucking mutant freak outside his front door was an understatement. Joel was livid—furious—charged up with rage the second he locked eyes with Logan.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. You brought him home?!” Joel hissed between his teeth, almost trembling from how riled up he was.

Man, imagine if this fucker was unfortunate enough to meet Wade fucking Wilson. Logan thought to himself, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath at the mental image of Joel meeting Deadpool for the first time. What a sight that would be.

“Joel, I know you’re angry, and rightfully so, but he’s not infected, and it felt morally wrong for me to just leave him out there on his own.”

“Oh, so I guess we just fuckin’ take in strays now? Is that it? Y’know, you’re supposed to run these things by me first before you just do something irrationally stupid like this!” He hissed.

“Ellie was a stray, and you took her in. I see no difference in this, Joel.” You attempted to reason with him.

“Who’s Ellie?” Logan chimed in, leaned against the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest like he owned the damn place.

“None of your goddamn business, bud.” Joel snapped back quickly, his words cold and biting, but they had no effect on the Wolverine.

“Ellie is his kid. Well, his adopted daughter. Actually, wolvie, she’d lose her goddamn mind if she got to meet a real superhero like you.”

“Not a chance in hell. This—thing isn’t staying here, and he sure as fuck ain’t meetin’ my kid.”

“Ah, so we’ve gone from mutant freak to thing? I’ll take that as an improvement.” Logan snickered under his breath. “I ain't a hero. Far from it actually, so she would unfortunately be met with disappointment.”

“Okay, well, unfortunately, you aren’t the only one who calls the shots around here, Joel. Now, I promised Logan that I would get him a proper meal and a stiff drink. So, either suck it the fuck up and come with us, or stay here and pout like a little kid.”

Damn.

“I hate when you act like you got the bigger set of balls in the relationship, baby.” Joel grumbled under his breath and was already reaching for his discarded coat that was hanging along the well-loved couch.

“Actually, I do have the bigger set of balls, hun. You just need a little gentle reminder now and then.” You shot him a playful wink and pivoted on your heel just as Logan quickly moved out of the way so you could pass through the doorway.

Joel gave the other man a cold stare as he passed him, one that was returned with an acknowledging nod and a small grin before the door swung shut behind the three of you.

Logan had five straight glasses of whiskey in under 20 minutes, leaving you, Joel, and Tommy equally impressed and a tad concerned considering a normal man would surely be on his ass by now after consuming that much liquor in one sitting, but Logan didn’t even appear to be tipsy at all.

“Wanted to apologize to you fellas for how things went down earlier.” Logan announced over the loud chatter and leaned in over the bartop where Tommy was drying off a glass and Joel was swirling the amber contents of his own glass, lost in thought.

“No hard feelings, man.” Tommy was the first to speak up. “I’m sure she told ya why we acted that way in the first place, yeah? We get all kinds of folks crossin’ our paths on patrol, and as long as they ain’t infected, or appearing to be an immediate threat, we let ‘em in.”

“Well, apparently those who appear to be an immediate threat surpass the rules and get let in anyway.” Joel added, tone dripping in sarcasm over the rim of his glass against his lips.

Logan stiffened, jaw clenching and unclenching and he could feel the concealed claws beneath the skin on his knuckles just begging to be unleashed, but he held them at bay.

“I get it, bub. You’re viewing me as a threat, ain’t that right? I show up in your town as a stranger, an outcast with your girl, and you got your hackles raised like a goddamn guardog. Well, I can assure you that I’m not a threat. Learned the hard way a long time ago to not impose on another man’s relationship.”

“As if I’m gonna trust your word?” Joel scoffed, rolling his shoulders forward before he directly looked over at the other man. “I ain’t gonna win a fight with her on this one, but if I even catch a whiff of you tryin’ somethin’ on her, I’ll kick you out so goddamn fast.”

“Noted. Although, I think I’ll stick around for the time being. If your ego wasn’t so inflated, you would probably realize that keepin’ me around is gonna benefit you and this community.”

“Benefit me how exactly? If you’re talkin’ weapons, we don’t need your assistance there. We’re stacked with enough manpower in case there ever was an attack. No one’s got the balls to do that.”

"Like, adamantium.” Your voice floated sweetly over the two brooding men, as you slid into the empty seat between them. “Not only that, but the infected literally turn the other way when he’s crossed paths with them, and oh, let’s not forget that one of his mutation powers is that he can regenerate and heal himself which means he’s pretty much immortal.”

Joel’s face turned red hot with embarrassment with a twinge of irritation. He downed the rest of his glass and slammed it on the counter. He barked an order at his brother to top his glass off. “Bullshit.”

“Would be a shitty lie.” Logan rasped, sliding his empty glass in Tommy’s direction. “I’m older than you, bub.”

“I think I’ve had enough of fantasyland for one fuckin’ day. Adamantium this, mutation that, fucking knives coming out of your hands? Yeah, sure. Older than me? Fat fuckin’ chance, pal.” Joel scoffed, shaking his head and muttering more profanities under his breath.

“He’s like…at least a century old, Joel. If not older.”

“Who is at least a century old?” Ellie chimed in next to Joel as she leaned over the bartop. “Uncle Tommy, can you pour me a beer, pretty please?”

“Ellie.” Joel grumbled, “shouldn’t you be at home doin’ homework?”

Ah, so that’s the old man’s kid. Fitting.

“Dude, it’s the weekend, and I already finished my homework. Dina and I are goin’ to the movies later, but she’s at home freshening up.” Ellie reached over to mess up his hair, but Joel already knew what she was about to do and gently caught her wrist in his hand before she could even get close to his hair.

“The movies?” Logan's question immediately drew Ellie’s attention as Joel dropped her wrist.

“Never seen your face around here before. You new to town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Logan shrugged. “You're Joel’s kid then?”

“The one and only.” She beamed proudly while Joel scowled. “Wait, so who is at least a century old? I know we’re not talking about you, dad. But you are getting up there. Is that another gray hair I’m detecting? Soon you’re gonna be wearing diapers—” her playful rambling was cut off by Joel’s sharp and scolding tone cutting through the air like a sharpened knife.

“ELLIE!” He half yelled, cheeks inflamed and face turning and even brighter shade of red.

“I’m only kidding! Well, half kidding! One day you will be wearing diapers, old man.”

Logan laughed, a full on, belly-ache inducing laugh where the corner of his eyes crinkled and his smile lines appeared. “Holy shit. Your kid’s a riot!”

“I’ve been telling him that forever, and he just won’t admit it!” She giggled and gently wrapped her arm around Joel’s shoulder to give him a half hug to which he begrudgingly hugged her back, trying to hide his small grin from being noticed.

“You remind me a lot of…well, an old friend of sorts.” Logan looked down.

Ellie finally found her chance to ruffle Joel’s and seized it before he could stop her. “What was the name of your friend? I’m assuming he’s dead, so rest in peace.”

“Ellie!” Joel softly scolded her, “it’s rude to assume that someone died—”

“Wade Wilson.” Logan said softly, staring down at his empty glass with a sigh.

Ellie’s eyes expanded, blown wide in shock and utter disbelief. She was a comic book nerd, and well—a nerd in general. Perhaps it was just sheer coincidence that this stranger knew a Wade Wilson. Surely, it couldn’t be the Wade Wilson that she immediately was thinking of, right?

“Holy fuck. Please don’t crush my dreams and tell me that I’m wrong, but are you talking about the Wade Wilson as in Deadpool? Dude—are you an Avenger?” Ellie leaned over the bartop in Logan’s direction, voice low in a hushed whisper.

“Kid, I’m the furthest thing from an Avenger.” He said quietly, sinking his weight back against the bartop stool. “But I did know Wade pretty well. The fucker is probably alive, somewhere. He’s like a cockroach that you can never kill.”

“Okay, but if you’re not an Avenger…then what are you?”

“I was an X-Man at one point, but they’re all dead now—because of me.”

“Oh my god, are you—you’re the Wolverine, aren’t you? What in the fuck are you doing here? Is this real life? Someone pinch me right now, because there is no way that Logan fucking Howlett is here in the flesh! Dude, can you show me your claws?!” Ellie asked excitedly and it was Joel’s job to rein her in a bit.

“Alright, kiddo. That’s enough questions, alright? Don’t wanna go and overwhelm him. He can show you his…claws another time. Last thing we want is all these people freaking out and screaming bloody murder, right?” Joel said softly to her in his usual dad tone.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry about that, Logan. I’m just like—a huge fan of you and the comics. I actually still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this is real life. Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Hope you stick around!” She said sincerely before swiping up her glass of beer that was waiting for her and walked away to a different section of the crowded bar.

“Sorry about my kid. She is a huge fan, and definitely meant no harm by freaking out like that. I hope she wasn’t too invasive.”

“S’alright. There’s no harm done.” Logan reassured him.

Joel tapped his knuckles along the bartop, looking over at his brother first who was now at the other end of the bartop where his wife Maria was sitting. And then he looked at you and finally Logan. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot earlier today and I’m sorry about that. If you don’t got nowhere to go, you should consider staying in town. Sounds like you could be useful, like you said, and my kid would probably kill me if I kicked the Wolverine out for no good reason.”

“I don’t wanna impose, I swear. My plan was to just have a bite to eat and a few drinks and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Logan.” You finally spoke, “you should stay. There’s plenty of room for you here. We’ll have to figure out living arrangements, but in the meantime, you can sleep on our couch?”

The Wolverine’s warm hazel eyes slowly flitted over to you, a soft smile gracing his face before he glanced over at your boyfriend whose jaw was beginning to tick, again.

“Only if your guard dog is alright with that arrangement, sweetheart.”

Joel took a deep breath and released the built up tension that he felt in his shoulders. “The couch is all yours, Logan. We’ll get you out on patrol starting next week. You’ll fit right in.”

And boy, did he fit in.

~~

Logan did more than just fit in, he added a new welcoming dynamic to Jackson and he was an absolute hit with the kids both old and young. (He may or may not have smoked weed with Ellie, Dina and Jesse one night, but no one will ever know the truth)

He looked forward to being on patrol with Joel and Tommy every single day, (sometimes in the evenings). Having a purpose in his life again made him feel complete, and there was that extra perk of getting to kill people—bad guys, every now and then. Logan took numerous bullets for both Miller brothers and he felt this swelling sense of pride in his heart when Joel would go out of his way to tell him that he did a good job out there and sometimes there was even a firm, lingering pat on his shoulder followed by a, thanks for keeping the town safe, Logan. Don’t know what I’d do without ya.

Logan liked to hear those words from Joel’s mouth more than he was willing to admit. Almost as much as he liked coming home to you at the end of the very long and grueling day. Despite his promise to Joel that he wouldn’t try anything on you, he felt that there was nothing wrong with developing a harmless crush on both of his roommates, right?

Well, lucky for the Wolverine, you were beginning to fall down that rabbit hole, too. Especially when Logan would strut around the house shirtless in the mornings while you were getting ready for your day at the barn, ripped abs, resembling glossy freshly baked rolls were on full display paired with that knee-weakening smile that appeared over the rim of his steaming mug of coffee. He’d even accompany you to the barn, spending time with you and the horses till he would saddle up for patrol.

“Joel.” You whispered through the darkness in your shared bedroom.

“This better be goddamn important.” He grumbled tiredly, rolling over so he was facing you and draped his arm across your bare waist, tugging you into his chest so he could pepper your face with affectionate, sleepy kisses. “Thought you said you were too tired for round three, baby.” He drawled against your ear, playfully nipping at the lobe with his teeth.

“Baby, I promise you it’s super important.” You pressed a kiss to the sliver of exposed skin on his neck, throwing your thigh over his hip so if he wanted to, he could slip right into your silky, enticing warmth with ease.

“Mmm. Alright then. Spit it out. What’s on your mind, pretty girl.” He hummed against your skin, rolling his hips languidly into yours, a small grunt slipped past his lips when the head of his cock brushed through your slick folds and dragged upwards across your still sensitive clit.

“Y—you have to promise that you won’t get mad at me, okay?” You gasped softly, biting down on the juncture where his jaw met his neck.

“Baby, if you don’t fuckin’ spit it out right now, I’ll just have to fuck it out of ya.” He said through gritted teeth, reaching between your bodies with his freehand so he could grasp the base of his cock with ease and slowly feed himself into your warm, wet, enveloping walls with zero resistance.

“I want to fuck Logan.” You finally spit it out, waiting for your partner to scold you, but he did the complete opposite and bucked his hips against yours so he was completely bottomed out, stretching you open the same way he did a couple hours ago. “Yeah.” He gruffed out, finally finding your lips in a searing kiss, “know you do.”

Just down the stairs, lounged out on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand and tv remote in the other, Logan was trying his best to distract his brain from what he was hearing upstairs (damn his heightened sense of hearing). For the past 20 minutes he had been listening to you and Joel getting it on, and now he was dealing with a small problem—a rather large problem, actually. That problem being that the crotch section of his jeans were becoming unbearably tight, and even after he popped the button and yanked the zipper down, that wasn’t enough relief.

He let out a frustrated growl, throwing his head back against the couch and brought his freehand up to his forehead, rubbing his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. He was fighting an internal battle of whether he was going to act like a nasty dog and jerk himself off, or fight the urge all together. He fumbled with the remote, turning the tv up to full volume thinking that it would drown your sweet little noises out, and Joel’s manly grunts, but it did jack all and he finally gave in and gently palmed himself through his jeans.

That’s when he heard your voice as clear as day.

I want to fuck Logan

That’s all it took for the last shred of his resistance to fall away at the same rate that he had pulled his cock free, squeezing it firmly in his fist before he pulled his hand back, splitting a glob of saliva onto it and wrapped it back around the base of his cock.

~~

You let out a surprised squeak when Joel bucked his hips against yours, burying himself completely in your warm cunt. You scrambled to find something to grab onto, sinking your nails into his strong biceps when he withdrew his hips halfway before thrusting them forward again.

“Known for awhile that you want to fuck him, baby. Neither of you are great at hiding it either. You should see the way he drinks in your appearance the minute you walk into the goddamn room.” He mumbled against your lips, caging you in his arms when he began to pick up a steady rhythm, listening to the soft squelch of your pussy sucking him in further with each powerful thrust. “Thought about tellin’ Logan that he should just make a move, but I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned freely, lips falling away from the kiss briefly before finding one another again like two magnets. “So, you’re okay with it then?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. But under one condition.” He stilled his hips, reaching his freehand back down between your connected bodies so he could play with your clit at his leisure.

Your body twitched in his arms from the sudden stimulation and that familiar tingling feeling that was blooming deep in the pit of your stomach as your walls clenched tightly around him, squeezing his cock like a vice. “What’s the condition?”

“I get to watch him fuck you. If y’all wanna get acquainted and fool around beforehand, that’s fine with me, but I get to watch him fuck you.” He rasped and in one swift movement, he maneuvered you onto his lap, cock still buried deep inside of you. The kiss was broken briefly so that he could gaze up at you through hooded eyes. “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even wanna join in. Jus’ am curious to see how well you take another man’s cock, baby. M’sure Logan is gonna be thrilled.” He grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh with his thick fingers. “The way I see it, It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.” He let out a sharp breath when you instinctively rolled your hips against his, foreheads pressed tightly together.

“I fucking love you so much, Joel.” You whispered against his lips, carding your fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots gently so his head was tilted back slightly. You could feel his smirk form in the sloppy kiss, and the way he tugged you closer, chests pressed together.

“I love you too, baby. Jus’ wanna see my girl happy s’all. And if fucking the goddamn Wolverine makes you happy, then so be it.”

Logan could hear every squeak from the old mattress, the wooden frame smacking the wall in sync with the heavy weight of Joel’s thrusts, and he could even hear the wet, squelch of your pussy, and skin slapping on skin. The mental images he created in his mind spurred his wrist to move faster, jerking his cock like a horny teenager that had stumbled across the adult magazine section in a grocery store for the first time.

He gnawed on his lower lip till it began to bleed and then healed over immediately after. His lashes fluttered, muscles growing taught and veins bulging the closer he got to cumming in his fist. He bit down on the back of his hand, hard enough to draw blood, and the stinging pain mixed with pleasure sent him right over the edge with stars dotting his vision before he slumped back against the couch, cock spent and growing soft.

“The fucker probably can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, inhale your scent and eat your sweet pussy like a man starved. Bet it’s been so fuckin’ long for him, that he’ll cream his pants the second he even catches a sliver of your skin.”

“Well, bub, you got one thing right, that’s for damn sure. I can’t wait to bury my face between your girl's thighs and eat her sweet pussy like a man starved.” Logan chuckled to himself, letting out a content sigh as he glanced down at the mess of his release coating his hand, and his happy trail.

He reached over the coffee table for his almost abandoned glass of whiskey and quickly downed the rest before snatching up one of the cigars Joel had so kindly gotten for him and a box of matches. And just as he lit the end of the cigar, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table so he could get more comfortable, his ears were blessed with the high pitched sounds of you orgasming. “Fuck.” He nearly groaned, cock twitching pathetically at the pornographic sound you emitted.

~~

The sun had not even begun to rise in the sky, but there was a chill in the air, a telling sign that fall was on the horizon and the changing of seasons. The early morning light was softer now compared to the summer months, and bathed Joel’s exposed back in a warm, golden glow.

You curled your body around his, hugging him like a koala when he went to untangle his legs from your own. He let out a throaty chuckle, raspy and sticky with prior slumber when you tighten your grip around him.

He blindly reached behind, finding your bare thigh and gave it an affectionate squeeze and gentle pat with his calloused palm. “C’mon, baby.” He rasped, “gotta pee, and then I’m gonna go find Tommy’n get an early start.”

“Stay in bed.”

“S’temptin.’” he mused, rolling over with a soft grunt so he was facing you finally.

“It’s fucking freezing in here, Joel. You’re my personal heater, and I forbid you from leaving.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled his face against your pulse point, inhaling your familiar scent with a content sigh. “Could always ask Logan to take my place…” He trails off.

“Are you trying to make me soaking wet right now?” You teased.

You could feel him grinning against your skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss at the juncture where your jaw met your neck. “Why? Is it working?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You said coyly, finding his hand to slowly drag it between your bare thighs, but he was acting stubborn; the gall he had.

“No can do, my little minx.” He retracted his touch from you all together, finding an opening to slip out of your warm embrace and swung his legs over the side of the bed before pushing himself up. You could hear a faint crack in his lower back the moment he stretched his arms above his head, and he cheekily pivoted his hips to the side just so you could enjoy the little show and dreamily watch the way that his heavy cock swung between his thighs.

Letting out a groan that was nothing short of frustrating, you rolled over onto your stomach, kicking your legs up behind your head languidly with your chin propped in your palms. “Can’t believe you’re gonna choose your brother over me, and my drooling pussy, Joel.” You said with a noticeable pout.

He bent down, grabbing ahold of his discarded shirt from the night before and pulled it over his head and shoulders, obstructing your view of his broad chest and soft, kissable tummy. “You and your droolin’ pussy will live, sweetheart.” He took a few steps towards the bed, leaning down to brush his lips against yours in a sweet peck.

“Actually, I don’t think we will. I think we’re both gonna die a truly excruciating death if you don’t be a man and take care of the mess I’m making in your sheets.” You mumbled against his lips, attempting to deepen the kiss further, but he swiftly pulled back, brows crinkled in amusement as he observed your pout of frustration, and that yearning look glossed over in your eyes before his gaze traveled down the curve of your spine and between your thighs.

He chuckled in amusement when you arch your back and spread your legs further just so he could see how swollen and puffy your pussy looked from this angle, dripping with need, desperate to be played with, to be filled.

“Put your pussy away, you preening slut.” He said teasingly, not meaning it in an overtly degrading way, and simply just a jest; all in good fun.

“Fiiine.” You sighed in defeat, dropping your weight from your elbows and plopped down, face first into his pillow dramatically.

“Poor baby.” He cooed and leaned down, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “I’ll let Logan know that you and your needy little pussy will be waiting for him.”

“Go piss already, old man.” You grumbled into the pillow.

“Goin’ straight for the jugular, huh?” He chuckled and grabbed the end of the sheet, draping it over you gently before he pivoted on his heel and padded over to the attached bathroom.

~~

Logan was still passed out on the couch when Joel crept downstairs, fully dressed now. There was the faint stench of tobacco, musk, and oh—

Joel didn’t mean to look, he truly didn’t—but it was staring him right in the fucking face, and immediately sent a hot, red flush rising up his cheeks and sweat began to pool at the nape of his neck.

Logan stirred in his heavy slumber, one arm propping up behind his head as a makeshift pillow, bicep muscles bulging even in a relaxed state. His freehand slowly drifted southwards, brushing against the protruding vein on his lower abdomen and trailed right down to the soft, dark, enticing hair on his happy trail.

“I’m fuckin’ losin’ it, I swear.” Joel muttered to himself, scraping his own hand down his face before he quickly made a departure for the kitchen.

He was careful to be quiet, as he didn’t want to disturb the other man while he prepared himself a steaming mug of coffee, one of his many guilty pleasures that he never believed he would get to indulge in again.

cue me breaking the 4th wall. I know what you’re all thinking. Gianna, are Joel and Logan going to fuck yet? No, my lovely readers, I’m going to continue to edge you just a little more 🙂‍↕️ (and by a little more I mean you have to wait till chapter three 😔 but don’t worry! The sexual tension is there, and it’s simmering, but first, some angst!

P.S. if you read this in Deadpool’s voice, I fucking love u and we’re gonna make out now.

Okay, that’s all, folks! Back to the gay pining!

The Wolverine began to mumble in his sleep, not just fragmented words, but names—names of those he once knew, those he lost. The nightmares were never-ending, a constant reminder of the past that could never be undone. Even after teaming up with Wade, and saving the world, Logan still would think about the X-Men. That’s the funny thing about trauma, it never actually goes away, you just learn how to mask it as time goes on.

“Howlett?” Joel hesitantly said from the threshold of the kitchen, footsteps padding towards the living room.

Logan shot up from the couch, with an animalistic yell emitting from his throat. His eyes were wide, sweat pooled down his bare chest and his claws unsheathed with that familiar metal swoosh. He blinked a rapidly, registering where he was before he fell back against the couch and retracted his claws as he caught his breath.

“Logan?…Y’alright in there?”

Fuck.

“Jus’ fine, Miller. Sorry for startling you.” Logan muttered, voice raspy with sleep. It dawned upon him then that last night, after he—well, got himself off, he passed out before he had a chance to tuck his cock back into his jeans.

Guy must really fuckin’ think I’m an animal.

“Are ya decent?”

So, he did see? Fuck.

“Jus’ a minute.”

Joel waited till he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled up, and the metallic clink of a belt before he made his presence known, leaning against the opening of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee now.

He observes the other man silently, watching as he slowly sits up, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, taking a deep lungful of air before exhaling.

“You’re shaking.” Joel states the obvious and hesitantly approaches the couch, sitting down against the side of it.

Thanks, captain obvious.” Logan snorts under his breath, fighting the urge to grin at the other man’s obvious hesitation.

“Those things have a mind of their own, huh?” Joel refers to the metal claws that were once protruding out of Logan’s knuckles.

“Somethin’ like that.” He eyes the second mug of coffee before finally meeting Joel’s gaze. “That for me?”

“What? Oh—the coffee.” Joel feels a flush creeping on as he holds the mug of coffee towards Logan almost as a peace offering. “Yeah.”

Logan reaches for the mug, meeting Joel’s hand halfway before taking it from him. Their fingers brush, and he tries to not notice how fast Joel moves to retract his hand.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Joel’s response is unintentionally gruff sounding. He sighs, taking a sip from his own mug.

“Do you have them often?”

The Wolverine raises a brow, confusion etched over his face. “What?”

“The nightmares.” Joel clarifies, “do you have them often?”

“Every night.” Logan said just above a whisper. His eyes cast downwards towards the mug in his hands, an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“Well, we got somethin’ in common after all.”

Logan looks up in surprise, studying the other man for a moment. He wants to ask questions, but he doesn’t want to invade Joel’s privacy or pry where he’s not wanted, let alone welcomed.

“Sun ain’t even up yet, bub. Where ya off to?”

“Patrol with Tommy, once I find him. Wanna get an early start.”

Logan doesn’t even think twice before he starts to swing his legs over the side of the couch to stand up, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he feels a warm, calloused palm press down against his bare chest. The movement shocks both men, and the Wolverine falls into submission, sinking back down against the couch pillows that were already crushed under his weight.

“You’ve done well out there, Howlett. Take the day off, and keep my girl company instead.”

Don’t move your hand, bub. Keep it right there. Is what Logan really wants to say.

“Y’sure, Miller?” He tests the waters for any possible ulterior motive that Joel may have.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, Joel slowly removes his hand from his chest, bringing it down to his side, fingers flexing and then curling into a fist as if he’s in disbelief over what he just did.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Between you and me, there ain’t no hidin’ your attraction to her. And well—seems like she’s takin’ a liking to you as well.” Joel said with a light chuckle, bringing his mug back up to his lips and took a quick sip. “And seeing as you won’t grow a pair and jus’ make a move, I figured I’d give you my permission.”

“I ain’t worthy of her, Joel. That’s your girl. If I’ve overstepped—”

“Yeah?” Joel leaned in, close enough that from this angle, Logan could make out every little detail on the other man’s face. “Guess you don’t wanna hear how she’s upstairs right now, leakin’ all over my goddamn sheets like a bitch in heat, huh?”

“And you want me…to—take care of it?” He chooses his words carefully.

“I know you ain’t all that innocent, Logan. You don’t gotta hide that shit from me. You want her? She’s all yours. But, a word of advice, if I may. Let her come to you. She enjoys the chase more than she likes to be chased. Play coy with her. That one lives for a good fuckin’ game of cat and mouse.”

“And this isn’t a trap? Yeah, of course I want your girl. I’d be a goddamn fool if I didn’t.”

“It ain’t a trap. I’m appeasing to both sides, Logan. My only condition is that you can’t fuck her—not yet, at least. I want to be there to watch. Everything else, however, is on the table, so do with that as you will.” He finished off his coffee and pushed himself off the side of the couch. Before the Wolverine could even respond, he had one last thing to say before he would take his leave.

“Oh, and Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll know if you fucked her without me.”

My panties just disappeared…how did that happen? AND my rose toy just flew into my hand like Thors hammer! Weird…

~~

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[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

Angel - Part 2

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Enhanced Omega Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Theme: A/B/O / True Mates

Summary: It's different when you're enhanced. Everything is different, every smell, every sound, touch, feelings. The way it's different doesn't make sense unless you are enhanced. Throw in what comes with Alpha and Omega instincts, and the intensity of your presentation is even more than any other. When you find yourself in need of help you can call on the alpha you trust the most, Natasha Romanoff. You just don't expect to find your alphas at the same time. Are you really enough for them? And can you really be the Luna to the Avengers?

"To be loved, to be loved by your mate is everything." - Wanda Maximoff

Reader is enhanced, has wings and has powers connected to electricity.

Chapter Summary: Clint and Nat discover what's happened to you.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of sexual assault and attempted rape.

Clint’s the first to find you.

You’re sitting in the ditch your knees to your chest, head down and your wings wrapped around you.

“I have her, slow approach.”

He slowly knelt down in front of you, keeping a two metre distance. He had never seen your wings so dark, as black as they were now. You’d told him early on in your friendship that they changed colour with your moods. The darker, the worse the mood. He’d only seen them pure white a couple of times and it was always around his kids or laughing with Nat and Laura on the porch at the farm. But right now, they were as dark as night, like Lucifer himself had given them to you.

“Y/N? Sweetie it’s me. It’s Clint. Can you let me see you?”

Your wings dipped ever so slightly and your tear filled eyes looked back at him. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what had happened. Even his beta nose could pick up the stink of the alpha on you and he knew that scent. If he didn’t kill the alpha responsible, Romanoff definitely would. Clint knew what he had to ask you and he hated having to ask, knowing he really already knew the answer, but protocol was protocol and he knew at least a dozen agents that practically worshipped you and would bring in the piece of shit, to save him and Romanoff the trouble. They’d get you settled and then have him delivered to them. Wanda would want in on this and he was sure Wade owed you a favour. Yeah that would do it but now he needs you out of this ditch.

“Y/N? Do you require a female senior officer for debrief?”

You nodded weakly in reply.

Purposeful footsteps made themselves known and you saw Natasha’s silhouette appear from the darkness, the sparse street lights being all to light the ditch.

“Angel?”

The smell and look in your eyes hit Natasha like a freight train and she knew right then she was putting some red in her ledger. She tried her best to keep the growl muffled in her chest as she pulled out a pair of medical gloves from her pocket, as Clint mimicked her actions.

“Bruce call Hill, direct line, tell her we need her on a video call immediately. AR and SA suspected. Debrief required.” Clint requested over comms as he and Natasha slowly reached out to you, their hands outstretched. You placed a hand in one each of theirs and they slowly lifted you up, both noticing how your face contorted with pain.

“We’ve got you.” spoke Clint softly as he slipped an arm around your waist, “this OK?”

You let out a shuddered breath and nodded. Nat mimicked Clint’s actions, pushing down her inner alpha’s rage. Both supported you keeping the smallest of gaps between you so not to contaminate your suit too much and damage the evidence you were covered in.

The light breeze generated from F.R.I.D.A.Y bringing around the jet blew your hair back and Clint got a clearer view of your face, and could see a clear the mark where you’d been struck. Bruce appeared on the already lowered ramp and you noticed he was also wearing gloves and a disposable apron.

“Hills online and everything is set up.”

As you entered the jet you became aware of what Bruce meant and saw a projection of a live video call from Deputy Director Hill, a stern look on her face. A plastic sheet was laid in front of the screen, and on it laid a clear bag, swabs, scissors and nail clippers. You stepped on the sheet and Hill pushed down a growl, trying to hide it as a clearing of her throat as she saw the state you were in.

“Agent, please confirm your identity.”

You signed back.

AFH 27, code name Angel

“I’m going to need verbal communication if possible Agent.”

You gesture at your throat, getting frustrated when you realised you weren’t being clear.

“I don’t think she can.” Bruce replied for you, noticing the bruising making its way up your neck. He placed a tablet in front of you, the internal state of your vocal calls displayed.

There was a muttered Jesus Christ from Hill.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y give her a full body scan for injuries, fluids and any other evidence.”

“Agent, tell me what happened.”

TAGLIST

@hnnhbananananana

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (26)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: smut (MDNI), piv, unprotected sex (we don't do that here),

A/N NOT BETA. Honest opinion yall what you think of my smut lol

You giggled at the younger patients wading around in the pool, trying to learn how to swim. Jimin along with other patients, were holding swim lessons to help the younger kids know the basics. While the only time they got to swim was in the pool, Jimin thought it was best to teach them if the day ever comes that they are freed from this hell. 

“You're doing good!” Jimin praised one of the girls. 

You had a bright smile on your face, putting out towels once the lessons came to an end and everyone got ready to leave. 

“Good work everyone!” Jimin called, waving goodbye to the other patients. 

He nodded his head to some of the other volunteer instructors–most of which were older people who had gotten the chance to learn how to swim before being imprisoned. You gave them kind smiles as they passed you, thank you for the towel you handed them. 

You turned back to Jimin, watching as he ducked under the water causing it to ripple. A soft smile formed on your face the more you watched him do what looked like a dance. It was mesmerizing to watch. 

He popped back out, grinning when he saw you making your way closer to the edge. He waded over, placing his arms along the cement.

“You're amazing with children.” You told him, giving him a water bottle.

“I'm just a great swim teacher.” Jimin chuckled. 

He suddenly frowned after taking gulps of the water. You watched as he dropped his head onto his arms, his legs kicking in the water. 

“There's a lot of kids here who were taken from their families.” He sighed deeply. “They don't get a lot of education for practical things so I asked to be a swim instructor.” He explained. 

“Jungkook helps with physical exercises, Taehyung does art, Jin helps people with cooking, and Hobi teaches magic to the kids.” He smiled softly. “It’s just little things that people should get in their everyday lives. They might try to bribe us with things but we know the truth. This isn’t the life people deserve.”

“I think you guys are amazing to want to teach the younger ones.” You moved your fingers through Jimin’s wet hair, causing him to grin. 

“We got the chance but they won't.” He pressed his lips together. “They're missing so much from their abilities–someone has to tell them.”

“How old is the youngest?” You asked him.

He thought about it for a moment. “Ni-ki is 17.” 

“When was he brought in?” You frowned, shoulders dropping at the idea of such a young boy being stuck here for so long. 

“5 years ago. That was the last time they brought in people.” Jimin explained. “They said they closed off the portal that was used to travel between the worlds.”

“They took a 12 year old from his parents?” You cried, your eyes starting to hurt from the tears piling up. “Jimin, this isn't okay. Why would anyone do this?” 

Jimin quickly pulled himself up from the water, sitting at the ledge of the pool. “He's a greed demon. It's what he does.” Jimin sighed, bringing you in for a hug. You didn’t care for getting your clothing wet, knowing you’ll just ask to borrow some of the boys. 

“We'll save them.” Jimin told you, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “It's something all of us decided to do when they brought in the people after us. No one deserves this.”

He looked down when you began to shake, your tears hitting his wet skin. “Hey don't cry, beautiful.” He pulled you back, wiping at your tears. “We'll get through this.” He told you. 

When your sniffles wouldn’t stop, he looked down at the water before turning back to you. “How about I show you something?” He told you, dropping back into the pool. 

“Show me what?” You tried to stop your tears from falling, wiping at them with the towel you were going to give Jimin. 

“Watch.” He smiled at you before disappearing under the water. 

You leaned over the edge, looking down into the dark pool. You weren’t able to see all the way to the bottom, probably going much deeper than you would be able to swim in. However as you tried to find where Jimin had gone, you suddenly saw a shimmer of scales breach up into the light. You gasped, trying to find the figure again. You quickly fell backwards as a mermaid looking tail made a splash on the surface. You flinched as the water sprayed on your, moving an arm up to keep the chlorine from getting into your eye. 

As you lowered your arm, another gasp pulled from your lips. Jimin’s head had popped out of the water, his nose still under. You could see pale scales surrounding his face, leading to sharply pointed ears. As he swam closer, you moved back to the edge. The more he pulled himself out, the more of his true form you could see. 

His gills moved on the side of his neck, two openings on each side. As he used his hands to pull himself closer to the ledge, the fins on the side of his forearm caught your attention. His fingers flexed, causing the webbing between them to stretch. His nails were also pointed just as sharply as his ears were. 

You giggled when he pushed closer to your face, his nose almost brushing up against yours. The fins along his back moved up and down his spine, closing and opening back up. Your eyes moved to the tail that flicked behind him, its gray fins moving in the water as if it was hair.

“You look—beautiful.” You choked out, staring at his tail swishing along the waves. “Jimin, you're extraordinary.” You told him, looking back at him. 

“Thank you, beautiful.” Jimin spoke quietly, his breath hitting your lips. 

Without thinking about it, you dropped your head down and planted your lips against his plush ones. They were wet and not from him licking them. It was almost like he had gloss–and most often than not it did look like he did. But you figured it was something having to do with his abilities. 

You pulled your head back as Jimin pushed himself out of the pool, his scales and fins disappearing the more he came out of the water. You didn’t pay any attention to it though, instead placing your hands on his face to keep him close. 

Your noses bumped against each other, teeth clashing just a bit. You gasped out with something pointed touched the tip of your lips, allowing him room to slip his tongue into your mouth. It was like the end of a tentacle, but still felt like a normal tongue. It just had a weird shape to it. 

With Jimin now fully out of the water, he crawled over your body, pushing you to lay back onto the floor. You didn’t pay attention to how his skin was wet, your scrubs dried him. At least until his webbing hands moved to pull your shirt up and over your head. 

Jimin pulled back and watched as you seemed to look towards the locker room entrance, before moving your attention back to him. You watched as his eyes went glossy for a moment before smiling down at you. 

“Don’t worry, I asked Taehyung to put my sign on the door.” He told you. 

You smiled at him, enjoying how he knew what you meant with just one look. That or maybe you were just transmitting your thoughts into his without knowing. You didn’t care to think more about as Jimin went back to peppering your neck with kisses. 

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs crossing behind his back as he quickly picked you up. His hands were placed under your thighs, fingers inching closer to your core that seemed to radiate so much heat. He could feel your lower lips through your scrubs, the water from his dip in the pool having soaked you through. Though even if he wasn’t wet, you were sure you would have soaked through without him. 

You back made contact with cold metal, realizing it was a bench he had set you down on. Your legs dropped from his waist which gave Jimin the moment to strip you of your pants. Raising your hips, you made a face at the wet metal. Jimin took notice and moved to grab a towel from the other end. 

“Lean up.” He told you. 

As you sat up, he was kind to place the towel down on the bench. You wanted to giggle at how domestic it seemed. You were about to have sex with Jimin in the pool area–which was public–and here he was trying to make you comfortable. 

When everything was set down, you laid back down, quickly pulling Jimin back to you causing him to gasp. 

“That was sweet of you.” You giggled, pecking his lips. 

His puffy lips pulled into a dazzling grin. “Gotta make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

You giggled as he began to suck on your skin again. He didn’t leave marks, only giving you kisses and a tease from his pointed tongue as it poked out from between his lips. He made his way down, your back arching as he paid close attention to your chest. He didn’t stay too long though, quickly moving down your naval and to the band of your underwear. 

You gulped as you watched his slitted eyes glance up at you. You realized how much being a siren really fit Jimin. His looks were something that called your attention. His personality was what brought you into his waters. And you were swimming deeply in them. 

When you felt the cold air brush against your core, you let out a breath. You gasped as you felt Jimin’s breath hitting your thighs, back arching as you began to feel your nerves spark from the proximity.

Jimin looked up at you with hooded eyes, his lips skimming over the skin of your thighs causing you to flinch. He looked down at your core, eyes filled with lust as he grew closer. Your legs placed themselves on his shoulders, knees going over his shoulders. 

The small flick of his pointed tongue on your clit, you gasped out loudly, almost sitting up in your haste. Jimin leaned up though, quickly holding your hips down. His tongue was long if he wanted it to be. So while the fat part of it laid against your clit, the tip probbed at your entrance. 

You were withering from the pleasure, grinding against his tongue the best you could with his arm holding you down. Your moans only seemed to spur Jimin on more as he allowed his entire appendage to enter your heat. This caused you to cry out, hands trying to reach out to grab onto something. 

Jimin moved one of hands into yours, intertwining your fingers together. You began to clench down on his tongue, but he quickly pulled back before you were able to cum. You cried, wanting to sit up and find why he had stopped. But when you looked at him, you saw him quickly taking off his swim shorts. 

Your pussy clenched as you moaned from the sight of him. Your fingers reached for the towel under you again, clenching the fabric. He crawled back over you, fingers delicately swiping against your cheeks. You took in the scales that stuck around his face, feeling breathless from how beautiful he truly was. 

“Thank you.” He whispered against your lips. 

You softly moaned when his cock fell against your lips, hot and heavy between his legs. You moved our hips in a circle, rubbing your clit along the ridges of Jimin’s cock. He groaned against your lips, pulling away to look down at where you were using him to pleasure yourself. 

With his hands on your hips, he allowed you to use him as you please. You began to whine at how he didn’t seem to help you, which made him laugh. The pout on your lips made him lean over to kiss it away. 

“I got you, Beautiful. Don’t worry.” He grinned, teeth sharp. “I’ll give you what you want.”

With his words, he took a hold of his cock and lined himself up at your entrance. But he still kept teasing you. He only allowed himself to push the tip in, smiling evilly as you began to wither from him not moving forward. 

“Jimin.” You whined, circling your hips to make him go deeper. 

“Sorry.” He giggled, leaning over you as he pushed deeper. “It’s so fun to watch you whine.”

You would have retorted something back, but he started to thrust his hips back and forth effortlessly stopping you from saying anything. The only thing that seemed to slip out from your mouth were whines and moans. It started to dry your throat out. 

Jimin’s mouth hung open as his own grunts slipped past his lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut, basking in the way you seemed to grip him. One of his arms held him up while the other was gripping your hips. 

“You gonna cum?” He whispered to you as he leaned down. 

“Come on, beautiful. I waited for you to come.” His breath hit the shell of your ear, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. “I want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

You cried out as your orgasm started to form. Jimin shut his eyes tightly, groaning from you squeezing around him. Just as he felt your pussy throb around him, he quickly pulled out and let go of his release on your stomach. You withered on the bench, moaning from your orgasm that was coming down. 

Once Jimin had calmed down from his own high, he began to message your legs. Your breathing was returning to normal, which made him smile. “You okay, lovely?” He called out.

“I’m fine.” You giggled, looking at him. 

“Let’s go take a shower.” He told you, grabbing your hand. 

“Is there anyone left?” You couldn’t sit up just yet, which made Jimin pick you up. 

He carried you bridal style to the locker room, not caring to pick up the clothes you had left in the pool.

“No. We are alone.” He told you. 

When he walked into the men’s locker room, you were in fact alone which made your beating heart calm down. He set you down on a bench as he prepared the shower for the both of you. You watched as he moved around to get everything, appreciating his butt. 

He sent you a playful glare at the thought, which made you giggle. Once everything was ready, you both washed away the activities of the day. Both the normal ones and the dirty. 

Series Masterlist

UPDATE. Next chapter update will be November 13 , 6:00 PM (US Central Time)

[enchantedlandcoffee]

And Now I'm Falling For You by @enchantedlandcoffee

Written for @larrysballetslippers for the @1d-library beach exchange

Teen and Up Audiences | 711 words

“What did you do?!” Louis exclaimed as he waded out of the water, Harry hot on his heels. “I tried to save you! You know, this is the part where you tell me I’m your hero, and then you-” “And then I what, Styles? Shower you with kisses? Get a freaking grip, Harry. We’re not in one of your ‘old-school musicals’ with cheesy background music and full-on choreographed dancing! This is reality, and you just ruined my chances of riding one of the biggest waves the town had ever seen!” “Well, I’m sorry for not wanting to watch my best friend drown because he was too stubborn to admit that the bloody sea was too dangerous for him to surf in.” “That’s not what was happening, and you know it.” OR Snapshots of A Teen Beach Movie Larry AU with a twist

Read on AO3

Part One of Summer Love

Massive thanks to @cc-horan28 for beta-reading this for me and to @red-pandaaa for hosting this amazing exchange.

[beekeeperspicnic]

Today was kind of a brutal game dev day, but alas a necessary one.

Firstly, I decided it was time to crack down on typos by correcting all the ones spotted in beta testing, and running the whole script through Word's sPaG tools with a fine tooth-comb.

It was a reminder of how frustrating Word's grammar tools are, you have to wade through silly suggestions to spot the good ones.

The second thing I did is a bit tricker to explain, but here goes:

A few days ago I had a go at personally recording all the voice lines for the Mycroft Holmes Simulator, to have a 'test run' of the capabilities of my game genuine for adding speech to a game.

(Unfortunately I ended up talking about this on April Fools which I think confused some people but uh, no, that's a real thing I did. I don't plan on sharing it, it was just for testing purposes, but perhaps sometime I can do a little screen cast or something.)

Anyway, I ended up stumbling onto a big problem that I knew I'd need to fix in the main game. The way my game engine AGS lines up voice recordings to the correct line is that it assigns each line of speech in the game a little code based on the character. So it might be HOLM1 HOLM2 HOLM3 for Holmes' dialogue, WATS1 WATS2 WATS3 for Watson.

Problem is in my coding, I'll often just say "the player says this". You might think there's only one 'player' in the game, but for programming purposes the are a few - Regular Holmes, Young Holmes, Holmes in his Brain Attic etc.

What I found is that the engine assigns 'player' dialogue to whichever character is the player at the beginning of the game. The upshot I of this is that I realised I was going to have HOLM1 HOLM2 HOLM3 etc. for times when I'd named Holmes, and a whole second set of HOLM1 HOLM2 HOLM3 for 'player.'

In addition, I think it's important for the voice actor/s to know what age Holmes is in different lines, and with my 'player' system a lot of the generic "I can't do that" style dialogue was getting all jumbled up.

Soooo... I may have spent half the afternoon eliminating hundreds of instances of "The player says" from the code, and replacing it with WHICH iteration of Holmes needs to say it.

It's tedious because it feels like putting in loads of work just to get to the exact same point I was at before I started from a player's point of view, but I'm hoping this will have saved me an absolute nightmare down the line.

I had a cat keeping me company so you know it's not all bad.

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Court of Faded Dreams: Chapter 50

Chapter title: Always Changing, Always Flowing

Fic summary: In her grief after Rhys sacrifices himself to restore the Cauldron, Feyre accidentally sends herself back in time. Back in her human body, in her early days in the Spring Court, Feyre must be careful how she alters the timeline as she tries to save Rhys and Prythian from Under the Mountain.

Surprise!!! All my love and gratitutde to @noirshadow for being my beta and staying so patient and supportive <33 Thank you for all of your help!

Read on AO3 ⟡ A Court of Faded Dreams Masterlist

Her sisters did not come up.

Feyre stared at the flat surface of that black, inky water, willing their heads to surface. Searching for even a bubble to rise over the too still waterline, if only to let her know that they were still under there. That the Cauldron hadn’t swallowed them whole and left nothing to mourn.

She surged towards the Cauldron, prepared to wade through the liquid herself if it meant finding her sisters. But a strong hand caught Feyre around the wrist and tugged, reversing her momentum with little effort. Feyre stumbled into a warm, broad chest, and her knees finally collapsed, buckling beneath the weight of everything she had carried. Everything she had worked so hard to avoid, crumbling to pieces before her eyes.

Rhysand held her close, half-carrying Feyre as she sobbed into his chest.

“What’s going to happen to them?” His cold, hard question was directed towards Jurian.

“I don’t know,” the human general answered, sounding shell-shocked himself. “I don’t…”

“Get away from her,” Mor hissed. Feyre raised her head from Rhysand’s chest to see that Jurian had stepped towards Miryam, dark eyes fixed on the blood that still trickled from her nose. Alive, at least for now.

Rage twisted his otherwise handsome face. “Are you planning to leave her on the floor, then?”

“If you let us go, we can take her to a healer,” Mor said, sword raised as she stood protectively between Miryam and Jurian.

“He’s already worked his spell,” Jurian spat. “You can’t leave this castle unless the King wills it.”

Azriel crouched into a fighting stance, prepared to slaughter the human—ally or not—if he made so much as a move against Mor.

“And even if I could let you leave,” Jurian went on, that rage turning sharper. He tipped his chin towards the Cauldron, where Nesta and Elain had been under far longer than any human could hold their breath. “Would you choose to leave them behind?”

Those footsteps were louder, now, nearly to the chamber. Jurian bared his teeth. “Think quickly, Morrigan. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Feyre darling.” Rhys tucked his lips against her temple in a gesture that mimicked soothing, so that no one would notice as he whispered, “The second your sisters come out of the Cauldron, you’re going to cleave the wards, and we’re going to winnow everyone out. Just like you told me you did last time. Okay?”

If they came out of the Cauldron, she wanted to say. But she didn’t let herself give merit to that voice.

They had to come out. They had to.

So instead she nodded, stifling another sob against her mate’s chest, pulling strength from him as she began to thrash against the ancient chains that coiled around her magic.

“The tides have certainly changed for you, Rhysand,” Jurian called. “A mated male. Last I saw you, Amar—”

“Finish that sentence, and you’ll lose your tongue,” Azriel warned, voice whetted with quiet, lethal rage.

Jurian gave a hollow laugh. “Just as perky as I remember, Azriel.”

Heavy, strolling steps echoed down the chamber. Feyre didn’t dare turn her face towards the entrance, already knowing who those steps belonged to from the way Rhysand tensed. The cruel, hateful face of the King of Hybern was one already etched into her nightmares.

“Treating our guests well, Jurian?” The King asked in place of announcing his arrival. “And—oh? What’s this?”

The stone beneath them began to tremble. Rhys tugged Feyre closer, prepared to use his own physical body as a shield to protect her. That thought made her push harder against the spell that bound their magic, desperately clawing her way towards its source.

Then—it was as though the entire room erupted.

If not for Rhys holding her steady, Feyre would have stumbled from the burst of wind that fled the chamber, the accompanying boom so deafening that she could not discern when it had faded. Was it still reverberating off the walls, or was that just the trembling of her bones? Was it still echoing off the stone, or was that ringing a silent song only for her ears?

Numbly, she whipped her head to see that the Cauldron had been tipped over by some invisible force. Water came pouring out in a cascade, spilling over the chamber floor. Black, smoke-coated water.

Elain and Nesta, as though they’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. They were soaking wet, what little of their skin revealed by the Illyrian leathers they bore had turned a deathly pale color. But Elain sucked in a breath, and Nesta began coughing up air and water as she pushed onto her elbows. Alive, alive, alive—and… as they raised their faces, the faelight caught on their soft glowing skin and their delicately pointed ears. Fae.

“Incredible,” the King of Hybern murmured.

Knowing they were alive—that was all Feyre needed for her power to finally explode. She pushed past those hands that were clamped down on her power, unleashing it into the room in a flash of pure white light, all that could escape with the damper from the King’s spell.

It burst into the chamber, sending the King and Jurian hissing as they shielded their faces away. And Rhysand was instantly moving, darting towards her sisters as Feyre reached deep within Day’s light until she found that purifying, clear power. She used that light to wipe through every physical trapping, let it show her the snarls of spells and glamorous, guiding her through the King’s spell as she burned brighter, looking, looking—

And there, buried deep inside the bone-walls of the castle, were the tightly woven wards. Feyre sent that blinding light flaring once more, blinding the room as she severed the wards at their ancient arteries.

She shouted, and as the light died she could see Rhysand and her sisters had disappeared. The King began snapping orders, and Feyre could feel his magic already scrambling to reseal the wards. There was a blur of movement in the corner of her eye, and Feyre turned to see Azriel moving protectively in front of Mor as she gathered Miryam into her arms. With a flick of his wrist, a knife sliced through the air, headed straight towards the King as Mor and Miryam vanished into smoke. Feyre willed the world to fold around herself, trusting Azriel to use his momentary distraction to do the same.

Those hazel eyes found hers. Go, they screamed, his lips curled back into a snarl. Feyre knew he wouldn’t leave until she was safe. On the vow that he had made to Rhysand this morning, but also on the vow that he had made to Feyre on the night she had been sworn in as High Lady. I will serve and protect.

Shadows closed around her, and just as the world had nearly slipped away entirely, Jurian fired an ashbolt straight through Azriel’s chest.

-

Wind and shadow carried Feyre only as far as her magic could withstand. She estimated she must have covered half the distance between Hybern and Velaris before she stumbled out of the sky somewhere in the middle of the Western sea. Too drained to summon anything that could slow her descent, she hurdled through the air and crashed into the dark, awaiting ocean.

Deep, deep below the surface, the world was quieter. She could still hear the ringing in her ears, but it was subdued beneath layers of ocean water and the rush of air bubbles surfacing around her. Feyre drifted, unconvinced she would even have the strength to kick herself up let alone swim to land. This was how it would end, she thought miserably. Not by Hybern, not by War, or Fate, or Time. But by slowly sinking into the quiet abyss that grew deeper and darker beneath her.

Feyre, Rhys called desperately through the bond. Feyre, where are you? Did you make it out?

Those mental talons brushed against her mental walls, begging to be let in. As she continued to sink down, she felt Rhysand tug at the bond, gently at first and then with increasing vigor. Feyre, he whispered, yanking so hard that more air bubbles fled her lips. Feyre, please.

She opened her eyes and angled her head up towards that dying, ever distant light. It was like being back Under the Mountain, she thought distantly. Feeling that tug toward the light, knowing if she let herself drift towards that darkness there would be peace at last.

But not for Rhysand. Not for her mate, who would have lost Feyre and Azriel in the same failed mission. Not for her sisters, who would have traded their humanity in vain. Not for Azriel, who sacrificed himself so she could escape.

Sometimes it’s just about having resilience after you’ve been beaten down.

For them, Feyre willed her feet to kick. Again and again, even as her lungs blistered with need, even as her vision went spotty and every motion in her body became agonizing, Feyre kept clawing towards that light.

Just as she was about to break the surface, something heavy slammed into her. Whatever precious air she was conserving punched out of her lungs, replaced instead with a flood of seawater that had her choking. The last thing she registered was a hand wrapping around her shoulders before everything went dark.

-

She awoke to a burning heat on her face. Feyre blinked against the too-bright light, raising a stiff arm over her face in an attempt to spare herself from its intensity. She was laying on top of sun-bathed wooden boards, below a cloudless blue sky. She was on a ship—if the sound of the crashing ocean waves and cawing seabirds were anything to go by.

Slowly, Feyre sat up, wincing against her throbbing headache and aching bones to search her surroundings, looking for Rhys. Had he found her? Taken her aboard a ship and…

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” chirped a lovely, lilted voice. A female walked across the deck, holding a canteen that Feyre prayed was full of water. Her throat felt like she had swallowed sandpaper.

But more importantly—Rhys. Feyre couldn’t feel their bond. And if he was on board, he would have been here. Especially after the way he had been reaching for her, begging for her.

“Rhysand,” Feyre rasped, feeling nothing as she reached inside for that familiar golden thread that interwove their souls. “Where is he?”

“Not here,” the faerie said sympathetically.

And it wasn’t just the bond that refused to answer. The well of power, once as deep and vast as the ocean they rocked over, was gone. Sealed behind a pane of glass she couldn’t break, no matter how she banged against its surface. “My magic—Why can’t I feel my magic?”

“We had our healer look at you, but we were limited in supplies. She said the biggest thing you needed was rest, and faebane is an effective sedative in a pinch—we’d just stolen a cache off one of Hybern’s ships.”

All Feyre could think of was Rhysand, feeling their bond go mute and fearing the worst.

“How long have I been asleep?” she rasped.

“Over an entire day,” the female answered. She plopped onto the deck beside Feyre and handed her the canteen. Feyre began drinking greedily as the female continued, “We’re almost to the harbor now. Normally we don’t patrol that far North, but the Captain said he had a ‘feeling’. Then low and behold, as close to Hybern as the High Lord would sanction, we saw Feyre Cursebreaker fall out of the sky.”

With the canteen emptied, Feyre screwed the cap on and handed it back to the female. “Which High Lord?”

“Tarquin,” she answered proudly, and Feyre was instantly flooded with relief. “We’ll be returning to the War Camp on the border of Winter and Summer.”

The one that Cassian was likely stationed at. Did he know what had happened, or would she be the one to deliver the news? Feyre turned, prepared to ask if it was the very same War Camp Cassian was leading, but she looked at the female and, for the first time, properly registered her face.

Warm bronze eyes were staring at her, crinkled with a happiness that made Feyre feel as though she were choking on seawater once more. Her gold-brown hair was braided back off her round face—A face that had once been pale and sallow. Feyre remembered staring into those warm eyes as the light drained from them. And now that faerie was sitting next to her beneath a warm, sun-lit sky, head tipped with gratitude as though Feyre hadn’t once driven a blade through her heart.

“Were you the one that jumped into the water?” Feyre whispered.

The female shrugged. “You fell in pretty deep. We were all trying to find where you had landed. I just happened to be the first one to see you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Oriana,” she said pleasantly.

Feyre swallowed. “Thank you, Oriana.”

Oriana’s eyes turned solemn. “No, Cursebreaker. The debt was mine to pay. In your third task—“

“Don’t.” The word was little more than a garbled syllable in the back of her throat. Feyre tore her eyes away from Oriana’s face, blinking at the crashing waves over the starboard in an attempt to banish her lingering ghost. “I wasn’t motivated by debt, or incurring favor.” Nor goodness, she wanted to add. Instead, she whispered as a confession to the sea, “Who’s to say in different circumstances, I would have chosen the same path?”

“Circumstances inform all our choices,” Oriana said, following Feyre’s gaze toward the open sea—where it stretched for miles and miles in every direction. “The winds and currents of the water are always changing, and the quickest route to shore today may not be the same tomorrow.” Her brown eyes were so wide, the entire horizon reflected in their light. “All we can do is brave the tides as they come, and act accordingly.”

It sounded so similar to the lesson Azriel had been trying to impart. Azriel, who had taken a bolt to his chest… who might still be in that castle in Hybern. Who might be dead.

Feyre’s eyes began to sting, but she told herself it was only the seawater.

“What matters to me, Cursebreaker, is what you chose on this path. Whatever your motivations, because of you I was able to return home to my mate.”

“Your… mate?”

Oriana’s lower lip trembled, but she kept her chin tilted towards the sea. “The grief you spared her… for that alone, I will always feel indebted to you.”

The boat rocked over a wave, jostling Feyre as the nose tipped up then back down, cutting through every opponent that challenged the ship. But even once the deck had righted, Feyre still felt off balance.

In another life, Oriana’s mate had felt that same soul-ripping grief that haunted the High Lord and Lady of the Night. And in this life, in this time… Oriana’s mate had never touched that pain at all.

“Are you… crying, my Lady?”

Feyre quickly wiped at the rogue tears that had escaped. “I’m just relieved that I was able to make a positive difference.”

“More than you could understand, Lady.” Oriana reached for her hand, and Feyre might have been startled at the sudden forwardness if not for the conviction on the female’s face. “Look around the crew. You have not been fae for long, so it may not be obvious to you, but there are sailors from nearly every court stationed on this ship. Prythian hasn’t been united like this in… perhaps since its inception.”

“Prythian would have banded together regardless—”

“Not without its savior,” Oriana interrupted fiercely. “Spring and Night in alliance? Any faerie would be laughed out of the room for suggesting it was possible.”

Oriana stood up, stretching her arms above her head as though this were all casual conversation to her. “I suppose I can understand why the leaders, with their eyes turned towards the carnage, might miss what’s been happening. But I’ve been in the taverns, drinking with the soldiers of every court in the alliance. And hope is so thick in the air you can taste it. Maybe have a drink while you’re in the harbor, see if you can feel it too.”

-

The crew let Feyre be for the short remainder of the journey. Oriana had vanished in the commotion of the ship preparing for land. Feyre felt the strangest mixture of relief and despair tangle in her chest as she watched the Summer Court climb in the horizon. It meant that soon, she would be able to reunite with her mate and assure him that she was safe. Alive. But if Azriel hadn’t made it out… she would have to look Rhys and Cassian in the eyes to tell them that she had left their brother behind.

That thought made it difficult to bask in the glory of the approaching inlet. Feyre had never seen an ocean so bright—under the glistening sun, it was almost turquoise, and so clear she could see through to the sand deep below. The bay was flush with ships, each bearing a proud sail of the six courts in the alliance. Gathered together, in one place. Oriana had told Feyre that more soldiers arrived each day, and by the sheer quantity of battleships, Feyre could believe it.

Tall buildings rose over the docks as the boat came closer. Unlike Adriata, which was marked by Tarquin’s large palace, homes and businesses laid central to the harbor, so colorful in variety it was as though a coral reef had come to life above the water. A small, dormant part of Feyre itched to paint it. She pushed that instinct down, knowing she was not here to sightsee, or drink with soldiers at the tavern. She needed to find Cassian, and get back to the Night Court. Find out how her sisters were coping with the change, and create a plan to get Azriel back.

More than anything, she needed to figure out how to get Azriel back.

That singular purpose propelled her off the ship when it docked. Filing onto land with the rest of the crew, she let the flow of the crowd carry her to the edge of the harbor. A pair of sailors was carrying a large crate between them, headed towards the outskirts of the docks. Feyre started to follow, before a hand found her arm.

“Are you looking for the Illyrians?” It was Oriana, pulling her in the opposite direction of the traffic. “They’re camped away from the city center. The General moved them after a small skirmish.” At Feyre’s expression, she laughed. “Nothing he couldn’t handle. He keeps his troops in line, your General.”

Feyre expected nothing less of Cassian. Pride flickered in her chest, a small candle against the icy dread that gripped her. She followed Oriana up the hills above the city, where a cluster of tents nestled in a small, grassy vale overlooking the harbor. On top of a hill, she could recognize Lord Devlon leading a group of soldiers through a late afternoon training session. Light caught the tips of their talons, gleaming against the sweat coating their faces—and in many cases, their naked chests. It was a sight she may have appreciated on any other occasion, but now Feyre was solemnly scanning through the faces of each of the soldiers, searching for her friend among them.

They continued to the tent that laid in the center of the camp, larger than the others. Feyre was grateful to have Oriana at her side, if only because the female was willing to brush aside the tent flaps with none of her reservations. Gravity felt heavier once they’d stepped inside, met with the makeshift war table fashioned from supply crates in the center of the room. A map laid across it with pieces strategically placed over the uneven surface, and several dark heads of hair whipped up from the map as they entered.

Her eyes immediately went to the male in the center, commanding an easy authority. When he straightened, the other soldiers did too. Despite how they may have loathed his leadership, it was clear they submitted to Cassian’s superior rank—his right by the sweat and blood he’d paid. When he bowed to Feyre, the others did too.

“High Lady,” Cassian greeted, with so much warmth and excitement in his voice that Feyre’s heart shriveled. He didn’t know. Casian flicked his eyes up, a slow smile blooming on his lips. Until he properly glimpsed her expression. He froze, then barked, “Out.”

The Illyrians disappeared with no further prompting. Even Oriana, with a small smile, squeezed Feyre’s hand and wished her farewell.

Cassian waited until the flaps of the tent fluttered shut. He took a breath, the rigidity flowing out of him on the exhale, until he was looking at her with a face full of concern. “Something went wrong on your mission in Hybern,” he said.

Not a question.

Cassian leaned back against the makeshift table, grip so tight the wood threatened to splinter beneath the force of his siphoned hands. “Did Rhys and Azriel…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, and Feyre couldn’t find it in herself to answer.

“Rhys made it out,” she said, so weak a condolence that it was barely a whisper. “So did Mor. And Nesta.”

Cassian wiped a hand across his jaw. “Nesta was there?”

Feyre winced, then nodded. “She and Mor hatched some plan together. Nesta’s fae now.”

He slumped back against the crates, pushing his hands up, across his face, to shield whatever his expression gave away. It was not the celebration she had wanted for him, or for Nesta. Not when the cost of her becoming fae was…

Cassian was shaking his head. “Just say it, Feyre.”

It was her responsibility. As High Lady. As the one Azriel had risked his life to protect.

“Azriel didn’t make it.” The words were bitter. More than any metal or blood or powdered faebane. Some foreign toxin her tongue rejected. “We were the last to winnow out. The last thing I saw…” she swallowed, forcing strength into her voice. “The last thing I saw was Jurian firing an ashbolt into his chest.”

The silence that answered her was excruciating. Cassian’s face remained buried between his hands, the air between them stagnant for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.

At last, Cassian raised his head, schooling his features until he was the commanding General she had seen when she first walked into the tent. There was not an ounce of pain in his expression—unless she looked too closely at his eyes.

“Where’s Rhysand?”

“I don’t know. The Night Court, I’m assuming.” Feyre wrapped her arms around herself. “My magic was drained, I ended up falling into the Western sea and getting fished out of the waters by a passing ship. They took me here.”

“Shit, Feyre.” Cassian glanced towards the map, studying the open waters between Hybern and the Night Court. “He’s probably losing his mind.”

She flinched, imagining her mate scouring the oceans. Would he do something rash, if he thought the King of Hybern had both his mate and his brother? A warm hand found her shoulder, drawing Feyre’s attention from the details on the map that had suddenly become so very interesting.

“You got out,” Cassian said. His fingers tightened, and then he pulled her against his chest, banding his large arms around her shoulders in a hug that expelled the air from her lungs. “That’s what matters, Feyre. To me, to Az, to Rhys. You're our High Lady. We swore to protect, and we live and die by that oath.”

“We’re going to get him back,” Feyre swore. She grit her teeth to contain the sob building in her throat. This was not the time for wallowing in her sorrow. She was the High Lady of the Night Court. It was time to regroup. To retaliate. To get back in the ring after being beaten down. She bared her teeth, hugging Cassian back fiercely as she repeated, “We’re going to get him back.”

[punch-love]

2, 11, 28, 30, 31, 37, 94, sorry for so many but I really love this qna they have so many good questions

2. Talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

I don't have this happen often in fanfiction, but notably, love-punch is always a few chapters off my original story draft. Peter in particular is pretty evasive of hitting any of the "landmark" moments in favor of following his anger. It's very hard to wrangle him in and make him follow a script because he's a very independent, very selfish character who is not necessarily looking to be part of a love story.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I learned a lot about drug trade economics recently for a one-shot I'm working on. It ultimately didn't end up adding that much to the story itself, but I have a pretty good understanding of the farm to table aspect of cocaine now. I also read a book on solitary confinement for Black Ace which didn't really teach me anything "neat" but did make my opinions on prison abolition a lot stronger and backed by prisoner's experiences. I am more of a character writer than a plot writer, so much research I do is usual minor details (I recently researched the largest size of Taco Bell drinks in ozs for instance) but I really enjoy the experience whenever I get to flesh out my writing with information that my brain doesn't have immediate access to. I often save research for the final edit so that I can focus more on writing a good story before I start down a rabbit hole.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

handwritten! all of my notes are handwritten so I can throw them away afterwards. I hate clutter and my WIP folders are cluttered enough without a backlog of chapter notes. I use sticky notes mostly.

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

I am not an inspirational quote person, sorry.

31. tell us about one of your characters who’s an absolute joy to write

I've said it before, but Wade is the funniest character to write. I love writing characters that are physically immune from the narrative. I like that he doesn't have to censor himself in any way, partially because he doesn't care, and partially because it wouldn't really do him any good even if he wanted to.

37. when creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

appearance and/or motivation usually - I'm a very visually stimulated person, so I have to like the "look" of a character, but I also have to be compelled by them and their role of their story to keep them around.

94. do you prefer dialogue or description?

dialogue to the moon and back (though I have improved in the description department from frequent notes from my beta asking where the hell the characters are in the scene)

[bunsofhoney]

1, 4, 8, 10, 11, 20, 40, 43,

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road? How do you know the ending until you've written it? J/k. I usually don't know the ending, unless it's like a 5-and-1. Often the plot falls into place as I'm writing. I almost never start posting chapters until I've at least worked out the whole plot, and often I have to have a full written draft before I want to start posting. I'm always anxious that I'll want to go back and add a plot point after posting if I don't know how it ends yet.

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread? Not counting my WIP purgatory folder, the one that sticks in my craw is actually an OC. An astronaut in the distant future, sort of a space-long haul trucker (like the ice haulers in The Expanse) comes across a Klyntar-like symbiote who saves her life after a near-fatal crash. (The Expanse really hit me with the emptiness and terror of space and I've wanted to write something evoking that). I don't really have an ending for it, so see #1. And yes, writing an OC that I'm actually invested in is soaked in layers of existential dread.

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it? I write best in collaboration, I think. It's true of my nonfiction writing as well (academic and nonprofit writing, I've also taught writing-intensive college courses which are heavy on collaboration and formal feedback). So yeah I do seek out criticism. I love it when a beta reader understands my goals with the work and helps me improve my writing to get there. That said, it's still difficult to take criticism and sometimes I have to let feedback marinate a while before I can integrate it into the work because it's anxiety-provoking.

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you? Pretty early I guess? It's usually "trope fic" in my head until some phrase from the writing sticks out enough to be the title. I don't feel like I'm great with titles. I like them short and sweet, which seems bland sometimes compared to what some people come up with.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general? Oh jeez. I love researching things. I often worry about little details of cannon, but then I'll change big details, lol. Snake Oil was the most fun, there are sentences in that fic that represent 5 different Wikipedia rabbit holes. I really enjoyed writing Wade's backstory, which included Quebecoise, real New Orleans gang families, voodoo rituals, and WWI trivia. I love New Orleans so getting to write something set there was a joy.

20. what is your favorite trope to write? Love me some hurt/comfort, feral or primal play, (biting and oral fixation, yum. Wait that's a kink not a trope...) and of course gooey domestic fluff, especially with food porn.

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. I'm not sure if it was the best but it's on my mind. A beta reader told me she wasn't interested in descriptions like "30 feet", "4 am" etc...the "route talk" of a story. She said it's a waste of words, and that stuck with me, so I try to find a more interesting way to label distance, time, etc.

43. how did writing change you? Made me a better writer, lol. Also writing kink has made me better able to express my interests irl. And it's given me an outlet to obsess over at 3 am, instead of work. I've made real friends through fanfic writing, which is hard to do as an adult.

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Mermay Imagine

Yandere Erasermic/fem!reader

Warnings: None I can think of. Let me know if I need to add any!

Summary: You’re lounging on the beach, (being a certified queen) watching the hours roll by with the passing clouds. Joying in the pleasures of summer—the salty air and lyrical chatter of birds, you’re unaware of the company you attracted.

A/N: I might not be here next summer, so I decided to post this regardless of the changing season. You can save it for next mermay if you’d like. It may read funny, but it’s not necessarily a story, more of an imagine. I do have a crack post for this, but I’ll add that separately.

Commission from: @megglepie. Thank you, it’s berry cute and I adore it. ☺️

Special thanks to: @rose-the-reaper for beta-reading it for me.

Imagine bathing in the summer’s sun, naked and free while soaking up its rays, basking in the solidarity of your beach. The crash of waves burble as they overlap; the cold music of seashells wash over you. Water rushes indecisively. A pool of pleated white crawls toward the bank, only to slither back into icy teal with a change of heart. They charge forth with determination, each time ripped from their desired destination. You lounge to the sound of the ocean trying to escape itself, though wary of the unknowns of land. Throwing your head back, you savor the warmth blanketing your skin; splotches of red and orange play behind your eyes like a lava lamp.

A splash of water entices them open.

Your eyebrows raise upon discovery that you’d caught two admirers.

Damn.

And you hadn’t even brought your fishing pole.

Opposed to becoming flustered by the unexpected company, you regard them coolly. You’d been feeling yourself before they came along. You’d never felt so desirable. If they didn’t like it, they could go.

The odd pair wading in the waves must share your sentiments. The blonde asks if they can join you. Both him and his black-haired counterpart came to perch on the bank alongside you as if they’d already received permission.

They’re very flirty, and ever mischievous: pulling on your legs and tugging at your toes. Amongst their charming conversation, the only constant is how they attempt to cajole you into the water with them.

They don’t mind your nakedness; it isn’t as if they aren’t. They’d never seen the need for clothing, nor understood the modesty silly humans cling to.

It isn’t a thought they share with you.

Hizashi could somewhat see the appeal. It was similar to adorning oneself with pearls and pretty shells, though their crowns were the beauteous prismatic scales adorning their tails. He proved curious as much he was tickled pink, as much as his eyes were green.

“Where are your adornments?” Came a piqued question, his locks of gold falling over his shoulder like spilled sunlight while he appraised your naked form.

He was quite puzzled, he’d never seen a human without them.

“Not that you need them.” His emeralds rose to your eyes, a bright smile beautifying his cheeks to show he very much liked what he saw.

“My clothes?” You inquired back, finding his wording strange.

“They’re around. Why? Does it bother you?” You asked out of politeness, though you were unwilling to do much about it if his answer was yes.

“No.” The quieter one answered from the bed he’d made of his arms, looking up at you from beneath his lashes.

“It doesn’t.”

You’re a goddess in their humble opinion. Wouldn’t it be such a shame if you were to cover it up? Such splendor should be displayed. And the cheeky mermaid tells you so. “Why, it’d be a crime.”

The eager blonde offers one of the many necklaces bedecking his throat.

“Would you like one of mine?”

If you didn’t already know better, you’d think he was courting you.

His friend removes one of his earrings and proffers an item of his as well.

You’re surprised at how authentic the pearls appeared, how rare the jewelry they so quickly offered were.

Surfer dudes typically wore necklaces with shark teeth.

Cool?

Yes.

Expensive?

No.

Your suspicions are up. It’s tacit to your guests as you’re hesitant to accept their gifts.

“That’s thoughtful of you, blondie. But why?”

“Blondie? I’m Hizashi.” He corrected, amused and taken with your hard to get attitude. You delighted him so, he blushed the color of red corals.

“Courting.” The ravenette produced in his steed.

“Shouta.” He offered in the same monotone.

If you were persnickety, they’d happily go fetch something you deemed worthy. They wanted you ever so badly. You were shiniest thing they’d ever seen, and they needed you for their own.

“The sun is your ornament! It makes you glow like a comb jelly.” Hizashi effervesced.

Is that his way of saying your moisturizer is on point? The adoration in his words is so flagrant, you take them for a compliment.

You do your best not to stare at their bare chests, yet they have no problem eyeing yours. Demurring legs cross over one another to deter their barefaced peeks. You don’t get the sense of anything untoward, it’s more for modesty’s sake.

They’re filled with admiration and wondrous curiosity of how your cloaca is on full display. An inviting sight to be certain. Laid out on display as you were, surely you were looking for suitors.

Your unexpected company brushes their long hair aside, so you can get a better view of what they have to offer.

The couple admired your approval—for you to appraise them much the same as they had done you, to see if you deemed them worthy mate material. And hoped you fancied what you saw enough to take them as your mates. They had already made their assessments about you. You’d make a perfect mermaid. You were already so enchanting. You could’ve been a siren with the way you lured them with your beauty.

A lovely addition to their collection.

There’s no way you’re letting two dudes you’d just met woo you, but if they were handing out precious jewels like candy, you wouldn’t complain.

With a snap of your fingers, you regain their gazes.

“What would you want in return?” You should’ve known the answer as they smiled at you.

“Swim with us.”

You finally let them pull you into the water.

-

Your swim-mates are puckish and pesky. They refuse to keep their hands to themselves; you’re dunked underwater. They’re ever curious to see how long you can hold your breath.

They’ve never had a human to play with before.

It’s only when your head is forced underneath the water’s surface that you uncover you’re companions aren’t men at all. Not in a human sense. Desperate for oxygen, you scream what little air you do have for them to release you. They have only smiles and bubbles of laughter.

-

The beating of your heart slowed, yet your panic grew as your body shut down against your will; traitorous in its tranquility, accepting its fate with peaceful grace while your mind raged. Struggles with the hands holding you down weaken, an uncanny coldness overtaking you—the heaviness in your chest unbearable, but not so much as the loving expressions they wore amidst drowning you. The soft look in their eyes as they deprived you. The last of your oxygen left via an explosion of bubbles, a final bid for freedom—a prayer. It’s swallowed by a mouth far hungrier than yours. Eager lips capture it in an all-consuming kiss.

He answers your plea.

The greediness of his kiss surpassed even your need for breath. Untamed as the sea, it spun you like cotton candy.

You’re swept into a deep eddy.

Water swirls the two of you in a forced disorienting tango, made all the more dizzying as he’s unrelenting, kissing you right into a stupor; they grow feverish, and the ocean follows his lead, tossing and turning in violent turbulence—restless and insatiable, incapable of being appeased as if it were responding to him. He’s passionate and pining, it’s clamant need; his lips are curious. He must like whatever he tastes, because he demands more, and more, and more. His presses are exploratory—pilfering. Had you any breath, he surely would have stolen it away.

Aizawa craves, he wants, and he takes.

He also gives.

You’re stunned to find you can breathe. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, you don’t ponder how in the world it’s possible. Instead, you grab his face, desperate for those sweet saving breaths; with a gluttony contending his, grasping hands drag him ever closer, so much that your union is more teeth than anything.

He smiles against you.

So very eager.

Good little mate. Let his love fill your lungs.

The longer his mouth works against yours, the more oxygen you’re able to take. With each kiss he took, he gave you life.

Silken scales brush across bare skin like tides lapping at your legs. He wraps his tail around you, encouraging your bodies flush together. You sought breath, and he happily provided like a proper mate should. Soon, you’d be trading in those impractical lungs for a set of gills.

Once Shouta gifts you his kiss of breath so you can breathe underwater, Hizashi gives you his own. Soft hands take your face between them, cupping your cheeks. A small upturned nose nuzzles into you, introducing them in an Eskimo kiss before he leans in.

He sets an easy pace for you to follow, featherlight presses and the softest pair of lips that made love to yours, they entreat so sweetly for entrance you unconsciously give it.

They adored scavenging for precious stones, and their tongues plundered to see what treasures your mouth held.

He proved equally curious as his companion, and twice as charmed. Gladdened by your flavor, he burrowed with relish, melodic trills and ecstatic clicks escaping him in the strangest songs. He imparted a tender smile when he drew back.

“We would never have let you drown.” Promised a gentle voice from within, one that belonged to the blonde before you, yet his lips hadn’t moved.

Confusion outweighed the aggravation you harbored towards the mermen for playing such a mean game with you, replaced with wonder as he spoke to you in your thoughts.

“Can you hear us (name)?” He inquired sweetly.

How-? You hadn’t mentioned your name once.

“We know the names of everything in the sea.” It was Shouta’s turn to lovingly hold your face; like Hizashi, he grazed your skin with the side of his thumb.

Could they read your mind?

“We can hear what you give us. You’re projecting quite loudly.” Shouta supplies.

“We’re also aware you didn’t appreciate our last courting technique.” To his favor, Hizashi at least appeared sheepish.

“It’s customary for us to flirt and tease.”

It was also…in their nature. They couldn’t fight instinct.

You’d looked very…drownable. Yet another detail he failed to confess.

You’re a siren submerged. The anger you rang with is muted in light of jaw-dropping revelation.

Did he really refer to them almost drowning you as flirting? Harmless as pulling a girl’s pigtails? Reminded of their less than human physiology, you peek at their tails. Undulating, those powerful muscles ripple the water. There was no out-swimming them. Looking back into their eyes, Shouta’s narrow. His smile rises an inch higher like he’d been privy to your thoughts. His obsidian tail swished, furthering your assumption.

“But hopefully, you’ll forgive us after your final fairing.”

The blonde of his hair glowed bright as the sun he claimed beautified you. It was your halo. Closing his eyes, again he asked for a kiss; this one a bit deeper than the last, he almost leans into you from the passion it carries. They’re scrunched as he seems to be focusing hard on something. Tingles begin in your fingertips, and quickly spread throughout your entire being. He was giving you something.

It isn’t the only present he has for you.

A fish zooms by, and you’re stunned that you can understand it.

“The gift of gab.” Came that excited voice from within your head, offering an explanation to your unspoken question.

“You will be able to converse with the sea life surrounding you. You can now understand them, and they can understand you.”

All around you, the fish sang their praises, the entire ocean was alive with worship—trembled in awe. They almost seem to bow. Everything from the tiniest school of mackerel swimming past to the pod of dolphins bobbing by, harmonized to magnify their names.

Prince Shouta?

“Isn’t it a lovely gift? What wonderful valentines your mates have given! You can speak with us too! Give it a try, jellyfish.”

“Do you find favor with our offerings?” Shouta capitalized on the daze inebriating your senses, re-tasting your lips. Your mind is drunk from overload. The merman coax you to take sip after sip of wonderment. Water thickens to a molasses that aids in your delayed reaction. His smile is the current that calmed its tempest—mellow, and delicate as the dimples pressed into his cheeks. When he talks, it’s feather-soft, sweet-tempered as sifted sugar. “Are those more to your liking?”

You’re floored. Were you in the presence of royalty?

“You are.” Carefully, Shouta places the earring in your lobe.

“But then so are we.”

“A princess should be able to confer with her subjects.” Hizashi clasps his necklace around you. Buoyant as the sea tended to make things, it was heavy. It felt more like a collar, as if the offers of jewelry you’d agreed to take tethered you to the mermen. Little did you know, you’d done just that when accepting their gifts. “You’ll help us look after even the littlest ones.”

“After our joining, you’ll even bear us little ones.”

-

Kicking desperately, your arms fight for the shore. The mermen join your game. They hunt as orcas. Their powerful tails create a whirlpool as they circle you. The mini tornado swallows you into the belly of the sea.

Green eyes glow from the deep. “Silly thing.” The voice inside chastises, malevolent glee.

“Merfolk are covetous.”

“Greedy things.” Shouta agrees.

Blonde billows, brilliant as the tails of bettas, shimmery with flecks of gold. Ethereal beauty that forebode. “We aren’t inclined to part with our findings.”

“You’re a treasure we intend to keep.”

[posi-pan]

Last year, I shared all the 2020 books with pan rep I knew of, and it was only 57 books. My list of 2021 books with pan rep is at 141.

Pan rep in books seems to be growing each year, and I’m really jazzed about it. 🥳🥰 (The eight books above are four I’ve enjoyed and four I want to read!)

The Bookseller’s Boyfriend by Heidi Cullinan

The Boy Next Door by Sierra Hill

Charisma Check by Charlie Novak

Dragon Tamer by Ophelia Silk

The Hidden God by Crea Reitan

The International Language by Jen Luerssen

Lily’s World by Margaux Fox

Love’s Divine by Ava Freeman

The Mark Falling by Samantha Shannon

Só Mais Um Capítulo by Madu Machado

Teddy’s Truth by K.D. Ellis

Tough Love by David Horne

Upon Another Edge Broken by Anthony W. Eichenlaub

We Could Be Heroes by Mike Chen

Wish by A.J. Sherwood

Adore by A.D. Ellis

Best Laid Plans by Roan Parrish

Billy's Geeky Quest by J.B. Buell

Blink by Sawyer Benjamin

Cinderllis by Evie Drae

A Dark and Hollow Star by Ashley Shuttleworth

Enquanto eu Viver by Leticia Rosa

Eu Não Sei Parar de Te Olhar by Lyli Lua

Fat Chance, Charlie Vega by Crystal Maldonado

Goal Lines & First Times by Eden Finley and Saxon James

Hooked on You by K. Evan Coles

How to Be Good by Chace Verity

King’s Ex by E.J. Russell

Leather and Lace by Magen Cubed

The Marriage Rival by Kat T. Masen

My Broken Crown by Steffanie Holmes

Not Quite Out by Louise Willingham

Portals and Puppy Dogs by Amy Lane

Queen of the Immortals by T.R. Hamby

Saving Throw by Alex Silver

Tempting Jordan by Andrea Dalling

Transgressions of Power by Juliette Wade

The Velocity of Revolution by Marshall Ryan Maresca

The Witch by Taliesin Govannon

Act Your Age, Eve Brown by Talia Hibbert

The Blue-Spangled Blue by David Bowles

Brother’s Best Friend in the Mountains by C.J. Turner

Can’t Take That Away by Steven Salvatore

Comatose in Como by C. Farren

The Councillor by E.J. Beaton

Deize o Sol Entrar by Guilherme Buiatti

Drag Me Up by R.M. Virtues

The Home I Find with You by Skye Kilaen

The Long Game by Anna Martin

The Mirror Season by Anna-Marie McLemore

Queen’s Ransom by Layla Reyne

Songs of Red Current Wine by V.L. Locey

The Striver by Vivica Dorn

Temos um Acordo? by Bruna Catarina

Baby Come Back by Roxanne Riley

The Belle and the Beard by Kate Canterbary

Beta Bots by Ava Lock

Bom dia, Sr. Jones by L.L. Moon

Cinnamon Roll by Anna Zabo

Cute Mutants Vol 4: The Sisterhood of Evil Mutants by S.J. Whitby

In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens

Fandom by Eden Finley

Final Curtain by J.B. Trepagnier

Headless by Aveda Vice

Hold the Door by Vinni George

Hunting Season by Kate Rudolph

JT’s Mission by Rosie Jarvis

Pieces of Us by Claudia Y. Burgoa

Plus One Bonus by Alex Silver

Ring of the Dragon by Kayelle Allen

Und ich leuchte mit den wolken by Sophie Bichon

The Virgin Rule Book by Lauren Blakely

Blood Pact by Courtney Maguire

In the Ravenous Dark by A.M. Strickland

Coming Home by Rebecca J. Caffery

Feed by Aveda Vice

Getting Friendly by Saxon James

Honest Lies by Sam LaRose

How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole

It Goes Like This by Miel Moreland

King & Queen by Maz Maddoz

Perfectly Parvin by Olivia Abtahi

Some Girls Do by Jennifer Dugan

Straight On ‘Til Morning by K.J. Sutton

When You Get the Chance by Tom Ryan and Robin Stevenson

Baby, eu vou by Lylia Lua

Continuum by Chella Man

Galen by Jaclyn Osborn

Just One Night by Chelsea M. Cameron

Metanoia by Cora Menestrelli

Mr Next Door by Joe Satoria

Never Kiss Your Roommate by Philline Harms

Not Guilty by Brit Ryder

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

Opening Lines by Jeris Jean

Playing the Role of a Surgeon by Emily Hayes

Save the Date edited by Ann Roberts

Scarlet Sun by Isabel Hansen

Stop and Stare by Katia Rose

Swipe Right by Tagan Shepard

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron

The [Un]Popular Vote by Jasper Sanchez

Weekend Girl by Alex Powell

Cruel and Careless by Bailey Nicole

Demming by Avril Ashton

Have We Met? by Camille Baker

Hold Fast Through the Fire by K.B. Wagers

Keep Me Close by R.M. Virtues

Matched By My Rival by D.J. Jamison

O casamento diferente do CEO by L.L. Moon

Once Stolen by D.N. Bryn

Perfect Timing by A.D. Ellis

Queen to King Three by Jennifer Cody

There’s Magic Between Us by Jillian Maria

The River Has Teeth by Erica Waters

Skin by Aveda Vice

Waylaid by Sarina Bowen

Weapon UwU Vol. 1: Godkillers by S.J. Whitby

Distant Gardens edited by J.S. Fields

The Friendship Equation by J.R. Gray

Freedom in Falling by J. Emery

Love’s Bequest by Blake Allwood

Second Chance Romance by Seth King

The Second Rebel by Linden A. Lewis

Act Cool by Tobly McSmith

Bloody Spade by Brittany M. Willows

The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun

A Dark and Starless Forrest by Sarah Hollowell

Keisha and the Rise of the Legacy by T.R. Tells

Sashayed to Death by C. Farren

Bees and Honey by Victoria Weyland

Cute Mutants Vol 5: Galaxy Brain by S.J. Whitby

The Heartbreak Bakery by A.R. Capetta

Initiation by Alethea Faust

Ride the Wreck by Max Walker

Skeletal Equation by A.E. Lister

Thronebreakers by Rebecca Coffindaffer

What’s the Matter with Mary Jane by Candas Jane Dorsey

The God of Lost Words by A.J. Hackwith

Tahira in Bloom by Farah Heron

Yours, Insatiably by Aveda Vice

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

[romioneficfest]

The Promise

Title: The Promise

Prompt/Day: Moon/Day 8

Tumbler Name: 

Rating: G+

Brief Summary: Ron goes missing and Hermione reacts

Beta Credits: A & A

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

 The glorious spring evening was regaled with purplish red sky as the sun sank into the sea. The outline of the moon slowly carved its shape in the sky. Despite the spectacular view,  Hermione felt gloomy, emptiness billowing inside her.

It took her the entire day to painstakingly prepare a synopsis of their upcoming plan. As soon as it was complete she bounced out of her room, excited to share it with both Ron and Harry. She found only Harry, sitting near Dobby’s grave in one of his intense moods. There was no sign of Ron.

By the time the moon glowed in the sky, Hermione's anxiety for Ron’s well-being increased tenfold. Her thread of thought was broken when she was joined by Luna and Dean in her stroll along the shoreline, although her eyes anxiously roamed around to catch a glimpse of the ginger boy she loved…..

Pointing to a black rubber tube bobbing up and down faraway in the sea, Luna squealed, making both Hermione and Dean jump, “That’s a talking turtle. Dad says they sing lullabies to hungry sharks and lull them to sleep.”

“There’s no such thing as talking turtles,” Hermione snapped. She was way too worried to debate with Luna. Talking turtles could exist only in Lovegood's fantasy world, she frowned.  

Luna did not bother to respond to Hermione. She waded ahead of them clucking and waving her hand vigorously at the rubber tube in an attempt to catch its attention.

“What’s got into her?” boomed Ron’s familiar voice, making Hermione feel simultaneously shocked and relieved.

“Wrackspurts, I guess,” Dean quipped and both the boys laughed. Hermione gestured to both of them to stop laughing, but giggled herself.

“That’s like our old Luna. I like that girl. She has her heart at the right place,” Hermione’s stomach twisted in knots as Ron praised her friend. She tried to brush the feeling aside.

“Yeah, she’s always been fearless. Ginny told me about her,” Dean paused and then said softly, “I’m sorry… you know the night that Dumbledore died….that I didn’t come to fight against the Death Eaters. Maybe all of us putting up a fight together there could have made a difference today,” Dean could not meet their eyes.

Before Hermione could tell off Dean for his past mistakes, Ron said warmly, “There’s always a next time, mate.”

Dean smiled gratefully.

Hermione tried to imagine how Ron would react if she toppled him onto the sand, kissed him ceaselessly and told him how wonderful a person he was. Her face flustered with the thought. The tall ginger had the capability to swing her like a pendulum through a multitude of emotions within seconds.

“Well, Fleur wants you all inside for supper. Besides, it’s not very safe to roam around here out of the wards,” Ron said meaningfully.

Dean dragged a reluctant Luna towards Shell Cottage. Ron was in tow. But Hermione tugged him back.

“Where were you all this time?” Hermione poked her finger into Ron’s chest and huffed. She sounded bitter. It was absurd, but Ron's attention to any woman made her resentful.  

“What’s got your wand in a twist? For that matter, you are not carrying one as I can see, and you're out of the wards” Ron retorted. “D’ya realise how worried I was when I couldn’t find you inside the cottage?”  

Hermione was reluctant to give in. But her emotions welled up tears in her eyes and she bit her lower lip to stop them from trickling out.

“Okay, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Ron softened his hold on her hand and squeezed it lightly. “Fleur sent me to Muriel’s place to fetch supplies. You know, with all of us here, she was running out of food. She didn’t want to make a fuss or make you all uncomfortable,” Ron said gently.

“That’s indeed very thoughtful of her. How’s your family? You’ve missed them, haven't you?” Hermione loved Ron’s family. She understood that he needed them. But she needed him more.

“All good,” Ron grinned. “They’ve collected muggle clothes for us. Old though, but they will suffice, I guess.”

“That’s great. We lost ours. Dean and Luna don’t seem to have any. I literally smell Dean’s slimy socks even in my sleep,” Hermione scrunched up her nose in disgust. Ron chortled.

“So, that’s what you found so irresistable about him. How long have you been doing these walks—I mean—you and him together?” Ron raised a single brow and smirked; but the playfulness in his demeanor did not quite reach his eyes.

“That’s bollocks!” Hermione said, indignantly.

Ron put his hand over his mouth and acted gobsmacked. Before Hermione realised the implication of her choice of words, Ron said innocently, "There's only a pair in here. Sorry, can't part with them."

“Ron!” Embarrassed, she scooped up a palm full of salty water and splashed it over Ron's face before running away from him, giggling.

Ron ran after her for his revenge. It did not take him long to grab her from behind with his strong, scarred arms.

“You barmy witch,” he cried.

"Don’t you dare!" Hermione yelped and wrestled to wiggle out of his grip.

Ron swept her off her feet and twirled her in the air. He dunked her in the sea till she was thoroughly drenched.

"Ron Weasley! Watch out for this," Hermione tittered. She kicked his shins and tickled him wherever she could reach, knocking both of them down on the sand, water sweeping over both of them. She was squealing in delight until she realised that she was propped up on her elbows over his chest, staring straight into his blue eyes. It was just the way she had imagined herself a few minutes ago.

Ron's left hand was wrapped around the small of her back. His right hand lifted his wand up in the air to prevent it from any damage. Hermione’s mass of matted curly hair with bits of sand stuck to the strands, enveloped both of their faces like a thick curtain.

Ron's gaze bore into hers. His wand was carelessly pointed at her. Hermione felt a warm glow as all the sand particles in her hair started emitting silver light. Ron's spontaneous magic was surreal. They were both shielded from the world by a constellation of stars.

Puffs of staggered breaths replaced the squeals of laughter. The sound of the waves were consumed by the beating of their hearts.

“You're like the moon, so beautiful" Ron murmured.

"Save your compliments for Luna, maybe Fleur or Lavender — Won-Won," Hermione scoffed, her voice loaded with sarcasm.

Ron kept on staring at her, but the enthusiasm in his eyes was gone; the glow of the glitters dimmed.  

Hermione knew she had just spoiled a beautiful moment of her life. Why do I always say the wrong thing?

Hermione rolled over her side to lie face up, staring at the moon and the stars; Ron's hand lying underneath her.

"It's been seven bloody years, Hermione. How much longer will we take to sort this out?" Ron groaned in anguish.

"I really don’t know why I do this. Sort this out for us Ron. Make it easier. Please!" Hermione pleaded.

Ron pulled her closer with a new found confidence. His body trembled against hers.

"Someday, when all this shite is over, yeah….I will," he stared into her eyes resolutely.

"Trust me, I want to do this right. For now, just know, this side kick is barmy for only one wee witch — a mental one and nothing's gonna change that."

Hermione brushed her hand over Ron's cheek and nodded. As they stood and walked towards the cottage, the glitters in her hair slowly faded away, but the promise he made stayed in her heart.

She never felt more content.

[wild-karrde]

Reunion - Part 15

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: As always, thank you to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this chapter (and listening to all of my absolute crack headcanons that I dumped into this chapter haha).

Fives’s recovery was slow going, and Rex couldn’t help but be amused by his impatience. Some things never change. Even though it had only been a few days since his rescue, the former ARC trooper had already started to look more like himself. With a normal diet and the ability to exercise regularly once more, his body had quickly started to recover its mass, filling back into a silhouette more resembling what Rex remembered from the war. His skin had returned to its normal pallor, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded. One of the first things he’d demanded was a haircut and a shave, and with Echo’s help, he’d managed to trim the curls back to something that more resembled his regulation haircut, although he had decided to keep it a little longer on the top. He’d initially shaved his face clean, but had quickly grown back his signature goatee after trying out a mustache for a bit, which Echo had teased him relentlessly about.

“Only Boil could pull that off, Fives,” he chortled.

Fives had turned, razor still in hand as he glared. “Boil and I literally have the same face, Echo.”

Echo had shrugged. “What can I say, he wore it better.”

Despite their spats over facial hair, Echo and Fives were practically joined at the hip, hardly ever seen apart, and it was so eerily familiar to Rex, but it warmed him as well. It was what he’d hoped for them, a life after the war, and at one point, he had thought both of them would never have that opportunity, another set of hash marks robbed of their lives and their potential.

Fives’s personality didn’t appear to have been affected much by his time in captivity. When Rex had asked how he was so unbothered by it, he simply replied, “Because I didn’t think I’d get to be like this again, here with everyone. I thought I was just going to be an experiment until my body gave out, but now, I get another shot at it. Wouldn’t want to waste it being sad.” There were still moments where Rex caught him staring off into the distance, his brows furrowed as if he were remembering something painful, but those were few and far between. Overall, it was more than he ever could have hoped for when they’d found Fives, and he felt incredibly lucky.

Unfortunately, Fives being “normal” also meant that he was…well, Fives. A few days after they’d returned, he and Echo approached Rex and Senna in the mess hall. Fives had just completed some of his physical therapy that Echo had been helping with. He was still thin, but his chest and stomach were already starting to fill back out, hiding his ribs and joints a little more as the bruising from the medical equipment faded. Both of the twins had their shirts dangling from their belts, a thin sheen of sweat coating their skin as they approached the captain and the Jedi. Fives caught Senna’s eye and waggled his eyebrows at her.

“See something you like, Master Jedi?” he teased, and Senna smirked at him.

Echo started to speak, but Senna shot him a look, and he quickly closed his mouth and raised an eyebrow at her. Rex had to bite the inside of his cheek as Senna stepped closer to Fives. They hadn’t had time to do a lot of catching up, and Fives had no idea what he had just waded into. Diving in, dick first, as always, Rex thought. It was something Jesse had said to describe Fives late one night at the 79s, and he had been right.

Senna toyed with her braid, twisting the end around one finger innocently as she batted her eyelashes at Fives disarmingly. “And what if I did, trooper?”

He leaned in a little closer. “Well, then I’d offer to buy you a drink. Feels like I owe it to you and all, since you helped save me. Plus,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned a little closer, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your eyes. They were the first thing I noticed when I woke up, and I could get lost in them again, if you’d let me.”

Rex noted that Gregor and Hunter were sitting at a table near them, and their conversation had grown quiet as they watched the interaction play out. Unfortunately, for Fives, he had not noticed, pressing forward in his ill-advised pursuit. Like watching a speeder wreck in slow-motion, Rex thought in amusement.

Senna wasn’t wearing her glove, and she trailed her metal hand up Fives’s chest. “I have to ask you something, Fives,” she said quietly, her tone low and sultry.

He snatched her cybernetic limb, bringing it to his lips as he kept his eyes locked on hers. “Anything for you, ma’am.”

Senna leaned closer. “Has that line ever worked on anything with a pulse?”

Fives’s brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed before the glint of blue on her ring finger caught his attention. Pulling her hand back from his face, his eyes widened as he recognized the blue Jaig eyes etched just below her knuckle. He gave her a lop-sided grin. “I think I’ve been set up.”

“Oh, you absolutely have,” Senna cackled, dropping the act. She patted his cheek. “Nice try though.”

“You weren’t going to stop me, Rex?” Fives asked, raising an eyebrow as Senna backed up into Rex’s arms.

“Oh, I don’t think I needed to. You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” Rex chuckled. “You’re lucky you caught on before you really stuck your foot in your mouth. She’d have eaten you alive.”

Fives rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Hunter and Gregor burst into laughter. Echo was quietly giggling next to him, and Fives shoved him in the shoulder. “You could have warned me, traitor.”

“What and spoil the fun?” Echo laughed. Straightening, Echo’s eyes focused on a point behind Senna and Rex, a smile lighting up his face. Rex turned and followed his gaze.

Captain Gregar Typho and Padmé Amidala’s former handmaiden Sabé had just entered the hall. The two of them had been in and out of the Yavin base since their escape from Naboo with Senna and Clone Force 99, and while no one had ever come out and explicitly said it, Rex had noted that both Typho and Sabé had certain people they ensured were greeted first upon each of their returns. Typho grinned and headed for the table where Hunter and Gregor were sitting, and Sabé’s eyes were scanning the hall until they settled on Echo, and her cheeks flushed.

“Hey, isn’t that the one handmaiden? The one that threatened me the one time?” Fives asked, but Echo wasn’t listening, already striding towards Sabé before breaking into a jog. She met him halfway, leaping into his arms, and he picked her up, twirling her around as she tipped her head back and laughed. As Echo set her back down, she stood up on her tiptoes, cradling his face as she pressed a long kiss to his lips.

Rex turned back to look at Fives and almost burst out laughing. Fives’s jaw was slack, his eyes wide as he watched his shy twin openly kiss Sabé. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You disappear for a while and the whole place goes topsy-turvy. Next you’re going to tell me the Emperor is actually a Gungan.” Rex just grinned in response, patting him on the shoulder.

Senna had strode towards the table where the others were sitting, leaving Rex and Fives standing alone together. Rex watched as she plopped down next to Captain Typho, slapping him on the shoulder as she greeted him. He felt Fives watching him and turned to meet his gaze. His brother had a smirk plastered across his features.

“So, I’m guessing Atiniir wasn’t always her name.”

“It wasn’t. She was originally Senna Aven. Says she wanted a change after everything that happened though. Doesn’t feel her old surname really suited her now.”

“You have a new last name as well?” Fives teased. “Those Jaig eyes seemed to be placed on a very specific finger.”

“Not yet, but I do plan to take that one when it’s all said and done,” Rex replied. “We chose it together.”

“Why haven’t you already?”

Rex sighed. “It’s a long story. The two of us were paired together on an undercover mission on Lothal. That’s where I found out she was a Jedi, and she learned of how I survived Order 66. That’s kind of where everything started for us. Then, an Inquisitor showed up, a Force user aligned with the Empire. He took her hand, and we narrowly escaped. I think that’s where our paths started to diverge.” His mind drifted back to the morning he’d awoken on Ryloth to find her gone, and his stomach clenched slightly at the memory. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “We were separated for a while, and I thought I’d perhaps lost her for good. She was afraid her presence put me at risk, so she left, thinking that would keep me safe. Guess she figured out I’m always getting myself into trouble, regardless of whether or not she’s around.” He chuckled. “She only showed back up a little while ago, and it didn’t take long for us to pick back up where we left off.”

Fives laughed quietly, giving Rex a nudge in the arm. “Well, I’ll be damned. The captain’s in love.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fives shrugged. “You were always so busy looking after all of us that you never took any time for yourself. Jesse and I used to joke about what you’d look like after the war. My credits were on you farming, Jesse thought you’d become a teacher and terrorize some younglings.”

Rex huffed a laugh. “To be fair, I don’t think anyone could have predicted the Empire. I didn’t think I’d still be fighting. For the record, if everything had all gone to plan, you would have won the credits.”

Fives grinned, and the two were silent for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I like her,” Fives whispered.

“Obviously,” Rex muttered, raising his eyebrow at his brother.

“Aside from all that,” Fives teased, shoving Rex in the shoulder again. “She’s not what I would have chosen for you, but I don’t think I’d have been able to imagine someone like her.”

“You’re more alike than you might think,” Rex laughed. “Reckless, sloppy, terrible jokes, but good hearts. The both of you.”

“I’ll bet I’m the better kisser.”

“I don’t plan on finding out.”

At that, Fives tipped his head back and cackled. “Alright, well I’m going to go hang out with my sister-to-be then. You coming?”

“In a moment.”

Rex watched as Fives sauntered over to Senna. He said something to her Rex couldn’t hear, and Senna grinned at him, jerking her head to indicate he should sit down. He parked it next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders and leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. Senna caught Rex’s eye as Fives continued whispering to her, and she winked at him. Those two are going to be a problem together. I can tell already. But his heart soared. The war might not have ended the way we all imagined, but I’d never imagined I’d get to talk with him again. Somehow, this is better.

---

“How’s it coming Tech?” Senna asked, plopping down at the workbench next to him.

The goggled clone spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “The same as it was when you asked me half an hour ago, Master Atiniir.”

Senna huffed in frustration. In the days since they’d escaped from Wayland, Tech had been working meticulously to see what information he could recover from her destroyed datapad. It had been slow going, and patience was never something Senna had an abundance of. She’d laid awake most nights with Rex snoring gently next to her in the bunk, wondering if there was something she could have done differently to back-up the information or avoid the datapad being hit by the blaster bolt. Ultimately, she knew it was just a bad stroke of luck, but that did little to assuage her.

Deep down, she knew the mission was far from a failure. They’d found Fives, and for Rex, that had been a gift that he never thought he’d receive. She’d caught him just watching Fives and Echo as they went about their day, a look that she couldn’t quite place settling into his features, somewhere between relief and disbelief at his fortune. Even with all of that knowledge, she still felt frustrated with their current predicament.

The datapad’s core was charred and blackened, the outer casing peeling back from where the plasma had slammed into it, leaving a large hole that dug into the electronics. Tech worked carefully, trying to reconnect traces where he could. Senna had left this task to him. Delicate operations with fragile electronics had never been her strong suit, and in this instance, the outcome was too important to risk it over her ego. To his credit, Tech had only made a few minor jabs at her about it, and for that at least, she was grateful. However, just because she wasn’t an active participant didn’t mean she couldn’t incessantly bother him about it. She’d come down several times each day to the workshop to check in and ask about his progress. The first handful of times had been frustrating, but she sensed Tech understood her anxiety, and he had softened after that, becoming a little more understanding.

Senna’s knee was bouncing under the table as she watched him work, and he gently reached down and rested a hand on it to still her. “Sorry,” she mumbled apologetically.

“It’s alright. I understand your eagerness to resolve the matter. However, the leads I’m working to reconnect are incredibly small and delicate, so the tremors you’re creating with your nervous fidgeting are making things rather difficult.”

Senna huffed, standing from the table and pacing behind him. “I just wish there was something I could do to help. I feel so useless, especially since I’m the one that wrecked the datapad to begin with.”

“I’d argue the blaster bolt bears that responsibility. Also, if you had been hit in your hip instead, the angle suggests it would have obliterated your joint. If that had occurred, we would not have made it off of Wayland unless we left you behind, and we all know Rex would not have allowed that. Therefore, we’d most likely all be captured, and Fives would not have been saved.”

Senna sighed. “I’m coming over to hug you, so stop anything delicate.” Tech pulled the tools away from the datapad as Senna slipped her arms around him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for saying that. It helped.”

Tech flushed a little, and Senna bit back a teasing remark. He tolerated her physical affections and occasionally returned them, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t take a mild amount of satisfaction out of making him blush. Despite their sibling-like rivalry, she felt a deep camaraderie with the technical specialist, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take joy in making him squirm a bit every now and again.

Releasing Tech, Senna sat down next to him once more, willing her body to be still as she watched him work. He had placed a magnifier over the hole and was gingerly resoldering connections one at a time. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tech set his tools down. “I think I have perhaps restored enough connections to test the datapad and see if my method is working. If we are able to power it up, we should be able to tell if I have been successful in remedying a few of the data connections. That way, I’ll know whether it's worth continuing or not.” He retrieved a power source and his own datapad while Senna went digging through a crate for the correct cabling. Together, they hooked Senna’s datapad to the power source.

“We should power it up before connecting to your datapad,” she said quietly. “If it arcs, don’t want to send any kind of failure down the line.”

Tech nodded, agreeing with her assessment. She could feel every muscle in her body tense as he reached down and turned on the power supply. Instantly, the lights on her datapad lit up, and the cracked and charred screen illuminated, although the damage made any readout on it indecipherable.

“Do you smell anything burning?” Tech asked.

They stood still for a moment, sniffing gingerly in the air for the distinct metallic scent of burnt electronics.

“No, and nothing’s smoking,” Senna said, the relief evident in her voice.

“Well, on to the next step then,” Tech said quietly, leaning forward and clasping the cable that was connected to his datapad. Senna could see he was still slightly apprehensive.

“Tech, surely we could connect another datapad first to ensure that it won’t damage yours.”

He glanced over at her. “I fear the connection port is near the damage. I’d rather not jostle it more than necessary in case those pins give out, and regardless of what we plug in first, we’ll need several of the modifications and decryption programs I’ve installed on my datapad to open the files if we can access them, so it will have to be connected eventually.”

“But what if it smokes your datapad? I don’t think I could handle any more guilt,” she tried again.

He gave her a small half smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve backed everything up on this and extensively documented the modifications I’ve made to it. I think damage is unlikely, but should it occur, I am well prepared.” She knew she still looked concerned, and Tech could tell. He reached back, gripping her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “It’ll be alright.” She nodded, and Tech turned back to connect the cable from his datapad to her damaged one, only hesitating slightly as if he were saying one last silent prayer. The cable clicked into place and Tech carefully removed his hands, stepping over to his datapad. He turned to her with a relieved smile. “It’s working.”

Senna released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Can you see any of the files?”

Tech punched a few buttons. “I can, and I’m copying them over now. We should be able to open a few of them momentarily, but the good news is that I believe my method will enable us to salvage some of the information you had stored. I cannot make guarantees about how much, but some.”

Senna hugged him again, hard, and she felt him actually return the gesture this time. Looking up, he was smiling down at her before his datapad beeped, and he moved to read the screen.

“There’s one file downloaded. It’s the one having to do with the Project Phoenix you mentioned.” His brow furrowed as he scanned down the page before his eyes widened.

“Tech, what is it?” Senna asked. She could feel him turning information over in his mind, but something about it was more troubling to him than normal.

He wet his lips apprehensively. “As you said, this project has to do with cloning. Some of the data was corrupted, but from what I can tell, they…they were attempting to create clones with…with a desirable midichlorian count. One high enough for Force sensitivity.”

Senna’s heart leapt into her throat. “What? For what purpose? Is that even possible? Were there any subjects?” Her mind was racing as she tried to take in the information.

Tech’s voice wavered slightly as he turned to her. “The intent of the study is not mentioned, but I would assume it has something to do with the expanding number of Inquisitors we’re seeing. Perhaps it is easier to createloyal Force sensitives rather than recruit them. At least, that would be my assumption.” He took a deep breath. “There is a clone designation number listed as a subject. A CT-9900.”

Senna stared at him blankly. “You all are CT-99’s.”

“We are, but that designation comes before any of our birth numbers,” Tech said quietly. “The CT-99 designation is reserved for experimental clones, and to our knowledge, there is only one other clone that the Empire considers enhanced. Only one other experimental clone that was created before all of us.”

Senna’s eyes widened in understanding as all of the pieces fell into place in her mind as she remembered a joke Wrecker had made when she was first introduced to the newest member of Clone Force 99.

“She may be just a kid, but she’s actually older than all of us. An older little sister,” Wrecker chuckled.

The strange itch at the back of her brain came roaring forward as she whispered a name.

“Omega.”

[yeojaa]

stages: rise (with me).

[ read part one ] 

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  mature.  tags.  alluded/referenced drug use (please be responsible).  they take an innocent shower together.  wc.  1.7k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ @coepiteamare​ i love y’all.  author note.  jungkook’s rave journey continues. ��  soundtrack.  songs to comedown to:  hold me close (climax).

They say you never forget your first time.  They’d be right.

You haven’t left Jungkook’s mind - framed perfectly in the centre of his thoughts, lovely with your star-speckled cheeks, the glitter in your hair.  Mona Lisa but so much more, printed to the backs of his eyelids, picture perfect in neon light and stardust.  He misses you often, despite the fact he always sees you at things like this.  Spies you dancing in a kaleidoscope of colour, made glow-in-the-dark by the appliques on your chest, the rubber toe of your sneakers.  You move as if the music lives in you, as if there’s nothing in the world but the melody. 

It’s easy to get lost in the sway of your hips, the rhythm of your body when the stage erupts in colour and the bass drops.  It captures all of his attention, has him staring like a fool in love, utterly unable to do anything but stop and admire.

God, you’re beautiful.  

His heart stutters in his chest, nearly falling out of the cavity when you catch him in the act, raise a hand and offer the sweetest wave.

There’s a sea of people between you - two dozen writhing bodies - and all he can see is you.  The shape of your smile when he returns the gesture, palms sweaty, pulse racing like a thunderclap.  How the simple expression feels like an explosion of stardust, illuminating everything around you.  (It’s definitely not just the light show.  It’s all you.)

He wonders whether it’ll always be like this - whether the pieces of you will forever be wedged into his heart, little splinters of affection built up like scar tissue.  Whether they’ll ache on days like today, where you’re too far and he’s left to orbit you, caught in your gravitational pull with no hope of escape.  If the scent of strawberries and sugar will remind him of you until he’s old and grey, still hung up on the pretty girl that’d saved him from a meltdown, because no one’s ever felt the way you do. 

“Kook, you good?”  He hears the question, feels the words bounce around in his skull.  Everything’s clearer than it was that first time.  His head’s not under water and he’s not drowning.

(But he wouldn’t mind if it was your voice that called him to sea.  He’d wade a hundred, thousand, million miles for you.  Get swept away by the waves just to hear your voice once more.  It’d be a good way to go.  The best, he thinks.)

“Y-yeah?”  There’s still a haze - a faint fuzziness at the edges of his conscience.  Cotton candy floss that spins everything in circles, sugar-spun particles aching his jaw when he zones out just a little too much, knuckles blown white, water bottle in his hand eviscerated. 

It takes a concerted effort to refocus his attention.  He wants so badly to keep watching, admiring, wanting.

Mischief is palpable, three heavy lines of red striking through syllables.  A new challenger appears in the form of another bottle, lidless and so close it makes Jungkook’s jaw ache in anticipation.  “Want some more?” 

Did he?  Of course.  He can’t have the thing he’s been craving for months;  this will have to do.

“Careful, baby boy.”  You’re suddenly there, right in front of him.  So close he could touch you, smelling like berries and cream and smiling brighter than the sun.  (He swears he might go blind, doesn’t mind when the rays are so warm.)

All at once, he’s shaking all over, limbs loose, foot bouncing.  Stop it, he tells himself, worries for the state of his joints because he thinks he might topple over any minute now.  That there’s nothing he can do to save himself from the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes glow with the strobe of the overhead lights.

He remembers how you held his hand last time, laying in the strange bed wrapped up in your arms.  Your voice static in his ears, cotton threads in the quiet, stretching on and on until he’d fallen asleep.  How you hadn’t left, not once, not even when he’d been burning up, white hot heat tearing through him, sweat pouring from his brow.  

You’d stayed all night, soothed the tremor of his bones.  Promised him things would be okay.  And they were.

The ordeal had left him raw and aching and tired, all the weight of the world carried in the bags under his eyes.  A walking skeleton, nothing but a bag of bones when he’d groaned awake, tripped alive out of his slumber.  But you’d put him back together, glued each piece with nothing but honey and molasses, thick and heavy and so sweet.  Cooed a sweet good morning at two in the afternoon, stamped the shape of your tenderness into his skin and melted tension away with just one caramel-coated smile.

“Hi,”  he says, stutters, hoarse as hell.  Eager as hell.  In love as hell.

(He’s never felt like this before.  Not then.  This is better.  You’re not a mirage in the desert, a vibrating silhouette brought to life by a lightshow.  You’re you!  You’re here.)

“How much have you had?”  

Anyone else, it might be condescending.  But not you.  You’re smiling at him still, reaching too, and he thinks he’s okay - that he’s in control this time.  Realises he’s wrong when he’s leaning too close, falling into the small of your palm, laughing along with you when he nearly topples you both over.

You smell like strawberries and home;  he inhales like you’re spring.

“Not as much as last time.”  Which was to say, just enough.  Not so much he’s a mess, unable to control the rattle of his teeth or the tingling in his fingers.  One cap.  A double.  Nothing outrageous.  Jungkook was smart this time - had finally learned his lesson.

But god, if he doesn’t want to be back where he was that first time with you.  Out of his mind, held together by your touch, seams strung tight by your hands.  That’d be better.

“Good boy.”  Your voice is all of his favourite songs, twinkling in his ears, making his head spin.  It’s all he hears.  The thing in his chest wobbles uncertainly and then so do his knees;  you catch him against your side, hold him together with fingers along his side, fingers replacing the rungs of his ribs.  

He hopes you’ll stay.

It’s easy to get lost in you, distracted by your hand in his, the shade of your smile when you look over your shoulder.  How you fit in his arms, settled like a familiar weight in his lap, curled against his chest.  He’s burning up again - a furnace on a summer night, beaded in sweat and hair sticky.  You don’t care.  You cling to him, run your fingers through his hair.

He swears he’s falling in love, giddy, over the moon, high in the sky with no hopes of coming down.

(But he is.  He can feel the slow-coming clarity, the tremor that dies to a bare tremble when you’re close by.  Your presence medicates him and he doesn’t mind;  you’re angel food cake and lemon tart, not sickly sweet syrup.)

When you guide him into the bathroom, lights off, bumbling about in the dark, it doesn’t matter.  You’re lit up in every colour of the rainbow, Polaris centred in your chest, guiding him home.  He follows without hesitation, crowds you against the sink and giggles to himself when you comb through the sweat-slick tangle plastered to his forehead.

He’s burning up but you cool him down, soothe the ache in his chest when it stutters again and cries out for you.  A salve for his wounds - all the things he doesn’t think about, that sit just beneath the surface and beg for attention.

“Are you okay?”  You ask and he’s barely paying attention to the words, every ounce of focus where it should be:  on you and all your glory.  Each sliver of skin that reveals itself in the darkness.  So pretty he could cry, so soft he swears he’s got velvet in his hands and not your hips.  Picture perfect.  

He says yes but he means no, because how can he be okay when he’s with you.  When you’re pulling him into the glass-walled shower, warm despite the cold water, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.  When you push his hair back and coo a noise that hits him twice - once in the gut and once smack dab in the centre of his chest.  When you’re working out the knots, untangling all the fucked up parts of him with the gentlest motions.  

(Of course Jungkook’s thinking too much, putting too much meaning into how careful you hold him, cradle him like precious glass, unafraid of the broken edges.)

(He can’t help it, though.  Can’t can’t can’t.)

(Wants you too much, wants this too much.  God, save him.)

“Relax,”  you tell him, saccharine and safe, kissing him like you need him just as badly.  There’s a fire lit in the bottom of his chest, a roaring inferno he has no control over.  It dissolves every part of him, turns him to jelly as he melts against you and takes everything you’ll give.

Please, he thinks.

He hasn’t said the words out loud - too afraid, scared of what might come if they slip past his cage of teeth - but you answer all the same, hold him closer, assure him with measured strokes of your hands over the uncertainty he wears like armour.  Sweep it from his shoulders with twists of your fingers and an adoring laugh.  Make him vulnerable and weak and and and—

He doesn’t care.  

Maybe it’s the comedown or maybe it’s you.  It cracks his rib cage in half, splits him wide open, and he doesn’t think twice when you reach in, settle alongside his heart, and make a home. 

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