#but i fear that is too closely linked to what i went through so. no.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I finally got around to posting the rest of the fic here! It's finished! I've included an a03 link of the whole thing at the end. @schrodingersauthorii gave me an idea for this part in the comments to this very post!

Part 2

The atmosphere of the meet was a lot nicer than he expected. The other students were kind to him, many complementing them on his sports day performance. The team members and Coach Sakuragi were less, well, mean to each other than the team he’d briefly been part of, cheering each on rather than acting sullen when anyone outperformed them. The coach at his old school had always responded to any mistake with a torrent of frustrated criticism that made Natsume tremble in shame. But Sakuragi never acted disappointed or angry. She came off like she was giving friendly suggestions, and she pointed out what they were doing well at lot too. The team responded to her advice eagerly, rather than fearing her.

It was nice, and Natsume almost wished he was the kind of person who could be a part of this. But he knew himself too well. He’d feel terrible each time he missed out due to being sick or waylaid by yokai. And that would happen a lot. The nicer these people were, the worse he’d feel about letting them down. It didn’t matter if they were fine with it, he wouldn’t be. And to be honest, even if he liked his teammates, he didn’t like thinking about huge crowds watching him, he didn’t like the idea of watching other people cry in frustration when he beat them, any of it.

So when Sakuragi asked him if he wanted to do a practice run with the others, he agreed, all while planning to run much slower than usual. He’d explain to her after that the performance on sports day was a fluke, and he usually wasn’t that fast, and there was no way he’d be able to pull it off consistently. Sakuragi would hopefully stop wanting him to join the team, and even if she still asked him, she and the others wouldn’t feel bad when he turned her down.

He took a deep breath, as he stood at the starting line, closing his eyes and blocking the gaze of Sakuragi and the other students out. If he didn’t imagine a yokai was chasing him, running slower was pretty manageable, and he was experienced enough with doing it in Phys Ed that he knew he could pull it off without looking like he was holding back. It would be fine. He’d be fine.

He got himself into position, taking off when Coach blasted the whistle. He lagged way behind the others, while doing his best to look like he was really giving his all. It was going pretty well, he thought, until he looped around on the track and saw a yokai directly in his path.

It wasn’t a big one, not even coming up to Natsume’s knee. It was black, so it had blended in well with the track. It was sort of blobby and shapeless in form, like an inkstain, with beady eyes and a wiggly head.

Natsume’s heart raced and his mouth went dry. It might look small, but he knew better than anyone not to trust a yokai’s appearance. It could be dangerous. Was it here to get the Book of Friends, or was it trying to do something to the people here? It didn’t matter. He had to do something. He couldn’t just slow down, that would give it time to attack.

Instead, he vaulted over the creature. His ankle twisted under him when he landed. He fell, knees and hands scraping the ground. He immediately sprang to his feet and ran as fast he could. He had to lead it away from everyone else.

His sneakers pounded on the rubber and intense vibrations raced through him with each step. It felt like his bones were shuddering. Somone was calling his name, but it was muffled and distant, everything was. He has no room in his brain for anything but his goal. I have to protect the people here. I have to protect the Book of Friends. He crossed the finish line and veered into the grass, ready to grab his bag and sprint out of school grounds. But he looked over his shoulder, he saw the blobby yokai hadn’t moved after him at all. It had simply flattened and spread out on the ground. It’s eyes were closed.

Was it…taking a nap?

Relief filled Natsume as he skidded to a stop. Yes, it was sleeping. Its breathing was even, and as sounds came back to him, he could hear some faint snoring. But he also heard something else, which was Coach Sakuragi screaming at him.

“NATSUME! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? WHY WOULD YOU RUN ON A SPRAINED ANKLE?” She shouted while running toward him.

Sprained…? Natsume looked down and saw his ankle was swelling. Suddenly, intense pain shot through his leg, his ankle folded under him, and he crumpled. Sakuragi caught him under his arms before he could hit the ground. She lifted him up easily.

 Wow, she’s strong, Natsume thought dazedly. Bet I look pretty pathetic right now. He could see students had gathered around to stare at him, expressions worried or shocked. One girl called “Are you okay??”

“Y-yeah,” he said as his mind screamed in humiliation.

Sakuragi could have probably carried him, but thankfully she chose to simply pull his arm over shoulder. “Don’t stand on that ankle, keep it raised.” She commanded. She turned to the cluster of team members. “We need the chairs, the ice bag from the cooler, and the first aid kit. Go get them.”

The student’s responded quickly, three of them running off.

Soon they all came back with all the supplies, including two folding chairs. Sakuragi eased him into a chair. Natsume couldn’t help groaning in pain when a student propped up his leg on the chair in front of him, resting his ankle on a folded towel. Sakuragi quickly cleaned out the minor scrapes on his hands and knees with some medicine.

Natsume hated that he was disrupting the entire track meet and making so many people fuss over him, but he knew protesting would be ungrateful, so he softly thanked the other students instead. They smiled back at him.

Sakuragi placed the ice bag on his ankle. Natsume sighed in relief as the numbing cold broke through the pain.

 Sakuragi bent down to examine his foot. “It don’t think it’s broken, but you’re going to need to check it with a hospital. It’s badly sprained because of all the weight you put on it. Hopefully you didn’t tear the ligament completely.”

“A-a hospital?” Natsume’s stomach dropped. That was really going to worry Touko and Shigeru. He felt so stupid, putting them through all this because a harmless yokai was taking a nap.

Sakuragi straightened up and clapped her hands. “Okay, this isn’t a show, people. Give us some space and get back to practice.”

The team dispersed, and Sakuragi crossed her arms, frowning down at him. Natsume winced, thinking she was going to yell again. Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Natsume.” she said calmly. “I don’t understand what you were thinking. This was just a practice run. Your first one, too.  I’ve seen students try to run on injuries before, but this wasn’t even an actual race!”

Natsume’s looked at his ankle, which was rapidly turning purple, burning with shame. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to apologize. I just want to know what’s going on. Why did you run on that ankle?”

“I-I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just kind of…instinct?” Natsume said. He instantly realized that how weird that sounded, and so, apparently, did Sakuragi.

“Instinct?” Her frown deepened and her eyebrows drew together. “Your instinct is to keep running even when you’re hurt?”

“No, no, it’s not like that, I’m just used to—!” He snapped his mouth shut.

What was wrong with him? He was usually better at covering things up. He’d almost said he was used to having to run while injured. He’d twisted his ankle running from yokai plenty of times, and at some point he’d learned to just block out the pain until he got to safety. But obviously he couldn’t tell the coach that.  He desperately searched for another way to end the sentence, but before he could, the coach bent over, looking him directly in the eye.

“Natsume, you looked very frightened when that “instinct” kicked in. Like you were being chased down. Are you used to being chased? Is it something that happens a lot?”

Natsume’s blood froze. Did she know? Why? How? What was going on? His ankle was throbbing so badly now, it was hard to think the haze of pain. His breathing got faster, his ears buzzed… He had to say something, anything to throw her off…

 Sakuragi put her hand gently on his shoulder, “Natsume, you can tell me anything. Is it someone who goes to this school? Or even more than one person? Have they been hurting you? I know it’s scary to talk about it, but I promise I can help–”

Natsume’s shoulders slumped as relief flooded him. She’d was asking if people were chasing him. Obviously she’d meant people.  What was wrong with him? Sure, his ankle felt like it was being hit repeatedly with a giant hammer, but that was no excuse to lose his head.

Doing his best to come off as relaxed, he said “Oh, It’s not like that, Sensei, you don’t need to worry. People don’t chase me at all anymore.”

Sakuragi narrowed her eyes. “Anymore?”

He clearly should just stop talking forever. Maybe he’d sprained his brain along with his ankle.

Yes, he’d been chased by people, of course he had. And not just enthusiastic track coaches. He’d had to run away from plenty of classmates looking to teach the liar a lesson. Running from bullies was usually a lot easier than running from most yokai though, since people eventually tired out. He’d only been caught a few times.

At least this slip up didn’t put his secret in danger, it just made every inch of him cringe. He didn’t want to talk about any of this with her. But he had to make her understand everything was okay. Even if it meant embarrassing himself.

“Sensei, ever since I moved here, things have been so much better. People are so kind to me, my friends are amazing, the Fujiwaras are so warm and giving…” He ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. “I feel like I belong here. Actually belong. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be….”

Sakuragi was listening to him intently, and when he trailed off, she smiled at him. “I’m glad to hear that. Sorry for the interrogation.”

She took some bandages out of the first aid kit and started wrapping his ankle with a steady practiced hand. “It sounds running is really connected to some… difficult experiences for you. I’m a teacher who’s supposed to look out for you. I shouldn’t have pressured you to run. I should have listened and understood your feelings. I apologize.”

“No no, it’s not your fault Sensei, you’re honestly the nicest track coach I’ve ever—"

But his reassurance was cut off by a shout, “Natsume! What happened?!”

Natsume looked over his shoulder, and saw Nishimura, Tanuma, Taki, Kitamoto and Sasada all coming around the corner of school building

 What the heck are they doing here? His stomach dropped at the expressions of worry on their faces. Nishimura led the pack as they rushed toward him.

“How did you get hurt already?!” Nishimura exploded the second he was within talking range. “It’s been fifteen minutes since school let out! Fifteen! I bet you were doing some kind of crazy thing again, don’t you realize-?”

“Nishimura, calm down,” Kitamoto said, smacking his arm. “But seriously, Natsume, what happened?”

“I—"

“Did somebody trip you?” Sasada asked, fixing the scattered team members with a hawklike glare while they looked baffled in response.  “Are there bullies here?”

“No—”

“It’s not broken, is it?” Nishimura was wincing as he looked at the ankle. “It looks so swollen—”

“Guys!” Taki cut him off. “Why don’t we stop freaking out and let Natsume get a word in edgewise?”

“Well said. I know you’re worried, give him the chance to explain,” Sakuragi said in a slightly amused tone.

Nishimura, Sasada, and Kitamoro jolted, like they hadn’t noticed the teacher before.

“Sorry, Sensei,” Sasada said immediately, bowing her head,

“I��m sorry too. I didn’t mean to yell at you, Natsume,” Nishimura mumbled.

Tanuma, who’d been quietly watching, stepped up and put his hand on Natsume’s shoulder. It was a timid, gentle touch, but Natsume could feel the weight of Tanuma’s concern through it. He smiled reassuringly at him, and then looked at the others.

“I just tripped, guys, that’s really all. I was doing a practice run and I stumbled and twisted my ankle. Though I, uh, also…” He was going to freak them out if he told them he’d kept running on it, and he wasn’t sure how he’d explain it, but—

“He also bumped it a bit while I was guiding him to his chair,” Sakuragi cut him off, giving him a small smile. “That one was my fault.”

Natsume blinked at her, shocked she’d covered for him. She shook her head at him slightly as if to say ‘Just this once’.

“See, Nishimura?” Kitamoto elbowed him. “You of all people can’t be mad at him for tripping!”

“Yeah…” Nishimura said sheepishly.

“No, I’m really sorry for worrying you all,” Natsume said, guilt racing through him. “But, uh, what are you guys even doing here?

“We wanted to support you. The plan was just to meet you when you were done and walk home together,” Taki said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before,” Tanuma squeezed Natsume’s shoulder slightly, looking bashful. “You just seemed kind of stressed about it, and I was a little… It was a last minute decision. I was thinking if you wanted to, we could even hang out at my place. I probably overstepped.”

‘It was one of those times his friends’ kindness and care filled him up so much he thought he would burst. Those times where he  wondered how he’d found people like them after all these years. When he ached to give them even a fragment of what they’re given him.

“No…” Natsume said, hoping he didn’t sound choked up, “No, I would have liked that, thanks.”

“That’s really sweet,” Sakuragi said with a grin, resuming with wrapping Natsume’s ankle. But then her grin dropped, and she looked at Nishimura questioningly. “Does he get hurt a lot?”

“Kind of. It’s all because he’s reckless, Sensei. He doesn’t think things through!”

“A lot of time he’s trying to help someone, though,” Tanuma said hastily. “It’s not his fault, really.”

 “You always go way too easy on him, Tanuma. But yeah, he’ll do things like shove a girl out of the way when a bunch of heavy boxes are falling on her and get conked in the head. He’s too good a guy—"

“Come on, you’re embarrassing him,” Taki admonished, which immediately silenced Nishimura.

Sakuragi seemed to relax at this, and she finished up wrapping Natsume’s ankle. “Okay! Now, can one of you go fetch crutches from the nurse’s office?” Sakuragi took a key out of the first aid box and tossed at Nishimura, who caught it with a startled expression. Kitamoto went with him. Sasada looked around awkwardly, and then did a double take.

“Chiyo, what are you doing here?” Sasada’s hand immediately jumped to her hair, and she started twirling a lock around her finger.

The short-haired girl walked up, wiping her neck with a towel and flashing Sasada a crooked grin. “The track team lets me practice with them sometimes. Gotta train to beat you next time. What this I hear about you threatening everyone and calling them bullies?”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, now I remember, Natsume, that’s your friend, no wonder you were all aggro!”  Chiyo waved at Natsume, who waved awkwardly back. “Sorry she’s so overprotective, man. She means well.”

“You—come on!” Sasada grabbed the other girl’s hand and dragged her away. Chiyo looked unreasonably happy about this.

Sakuragi had stepped away to chat with some other students too. Taki squatted next to Natsume and Tanuma leaned closer to him.

“Was there yokai trouble?” Tanuma whispered.

Natsume shook his head. “Not really. I basically overreacted. I saw a little yokai on the track, freaked out because I thought it was dangerous, and tripped. It’s harmless, though. It was just napping. I feel pretty stupid.”

“Did anyone notice anything?”

“Yeah, they noticed I was acting really weird. Especially Coach Sakuragi. She’s…intense.”

“Oh, I should have warned you about that,” Taki sighed. “It’s really hard to keep a secret from her, especially if she thinks you’re struggling. Her heart’s in the right place, though.”

Natsume nodded. “I can tell. I feel bad that I worried her. I ended up saying some bizarre things while I was trying to throw her off. I think she thinks I’m traumatized from my childhood or something now.”

Tanuma cleared his throat and looked away. Taki studied her shoes carefully.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Natsume asked, trying to figure out if he’s said anything strange.

“Nothing,” Taki said quickly. “Hey, what does the little yokai look like?”  She looked off in the wrong direction.

 “Oh, uh…kind of blob-like…” he squinted at the sleeping yokai, examining it more closely. “Oh wow, I couldn’t pick it out before but it has ears actually, Oh, they’re kind of shaped like cat ears…”

Takis gasped excitedly “Is it cute?”

“Uh…maybe ugly cute?”

“Then it’s cute,” Taki said firmly. “I wish I could see it.”

Natsume suddenly realized that it was probably for the best Taki couldn’t see yokai, otherwise she’d be terrorizing every weird looking little monster non-stop.

Tanuma looked around at the team members looping the track, as others chatted and laughed on the sidelines. “Were you having a good time with everyone? You know, before everything happened?”

“Yeah…it was nice. Everyone was really great. I feel bad I ruined things.”

“You didn’t—"

“We’re back!” Kitamoto and Nishimura arrived carrying the crutches.

A shock of pain went up Natsume’s leg like lightning when Tanuma and Sakuragi eased him onto his crutches, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. He couldn’t worry everyone even more.

“Okay, you’re good to go now,“ Sakuragi said to him. "But make sure your parents to get you checked at the hospital right away. I will be asking Ms. Fujiwara about that our weekly grocery store chats.”

Natsume nodded meekly, filled with dread at the thought of Touko’s panic and distress. At the same time, he noticed she’d called the Fujiwaras his parents…not foster parents or guardians…just parents. It kind of felt nice. Really nice.

Sasada was still talking with Chiyo, laughing and swatting at her playfully. She noticed that Natsume was up, and reluctantly pulled away, giving Chiyo’s hand a quick squeeze before she left.

Sakuragi smiled as Sasada rejoined the group, observing all of Natsume’s friends clustered around him. “Take care of him, all right?”

“Don’t worry, Sensei, we won’t let anything happen to him,” Nishimura said confidently.

“We’ve got his back!” Kitamoto assured her.

“He helps us a lot. It’s the least we can do.” Tanuma chimed in unexpectedly.

“Of course!” Sasada and Taki finished things off.

Natsume stared at the ground, hoping nobody could see the expression on his face. Taki patted him on the back.

“You’re right, you do have good friends.” Sakuragi ruffled Natsume’s hair. “Do you need me to get you a ride home? Or can your parents come get you?”

“Oh, it’s fine, I can just walk.”

“You’re seriously going to try to hobble all the way to the Fujiwaras?” Taki asked severely.

“Okay, maybe to the bus stop…”

“That’s not coming for another hour.” Sasada tapped her watch. “You can’t wait that long.”

“The Fujiwaras don’t have a car, right?” Nishimura said. “My parents have a car, and Mom should be home. I’ll call her to pick us up.” He pulled out his cellphone, glaring at it. “If I can ever get service in this stupid town…can’t believe I begged for a phone and it’s useless…”

“Nishimura, no, I don’t want to drag your Mom into this…” Natsume said in a panic. “I really can just—”

“Natsume.” Tanuma said quietly but firmly, holding out his arm in front of him before he could hobble away. Natsume’s voice died in his throat.

“My Mom would be mad at me if I didn’t call her about this” Nishimura held his phone high in the air, face screwed up in concentration.

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you get your nosiness from her,” Kitamoto said lightly.

“Man, shut up. Aha! I got some bars!”  And just like that, Nishimura was on the phone with his Mom, and Natsume could do nothing to protest it.

Sakuragi laughed and started to turn away. “Great, I’ll see you—”

“Sensei, wait,” Natsume called quickly.

 She stopped, looking at him questioningly.

“I just wanted I wanted to say, I did have fun here. And, well, I don’t think I can join the team but…would it be all right if I came here once in a while? Just to practice, or I could help with whatever… unless that’s…"

Sakuragi’s face split into a huge grin. “Of course, Natsume! Just having someone like you to race against is a huge help! But are you sure you–?”

Natsume nodded. “I want to.”

“Well then, do your best to heal up and we’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Nishimura got off the phone. “Mom said to wait out front. We’ll head to the bench just outside the entrance.”

Waving goodbye to Sakuragi, Natsume’s friends flanked him as he slowly made his way around the school building.

“I’m happy for you, Natsume,” Taki said.

“Yeah, that’s cool that you’ll have a place to practice!” Kitamoto agreed.

Thanks,” Natsume said. “I’m sorry I ruined the plans to get snacks and hang out…but maybe we could do it another time? Touko would probably be okay with you all coming over.”

“Of course!”

They all busied themselves planning  the get-together until they reached the bench out front, though Nishimura was oddly quiet.

After Natsume sat down, his friends gave their well wishes and reminded him to check in with them after the hospital, before dispersing to walk home. Taki caught up with Sasada and as they walked away, Natsume heard her say “So you and that Chiyo girl, huh? Do I detect some romance?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sasada said primly.

“Come on, it’s me. Come over to my place and tell me all about it.

“Fiiiine, if I must.”

Natsume laughed slightly. He looked over at Nishimura to see his reaction, but for once in his life, he didn’t seem interested in what Taki was doing. He was staring stonily into the distance.

“Nishimura, is something wrong–?”

“I’m sorry, Natsume,” he said abruptly, still not really looking at him.

“Huh? What are you sorry about?” He wondered if Nishimura was still feeling guilty about yelling earlier, and was prepared to reassure him, but—

“You’re hurt because of me.”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Natsume couldn’t help but laugh but stopped when Nishimura glared at him.

“It’s because of me. You don’t like  running in front of people, I know that, but then you had to because I screwed up. And when you were talking to the coach, I could tell you were nervous, I could tell you didn’t want to go. And instead of returning the favor and helping you, I pushed you to do it anyway.” He put his head in his hands. “It was such shitty thing to do.”

“Nishimura, come on, you didn’t–

“I did. You were trying to say no, you can’t pretend you weren’t.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I just…got carried away because you were so cool when you won the race! And you’re kind of down on yourself sometimes,…so I thought maybe if you joined the track team, you’d see how amazing what you can do is and people would see you’re…ugh, it was stupid.”

Natsume’s cheeks burned. “That’s.. it sounds like you were really thinking of me, Nishimura, thank you—"

“No, don’t thank me!” Nishimura said fiercely. “I wasn’t looking out for you or your feelings at all, I just decided what I wanted for you without asking you. And God, I didn’t even think about injuries!”

Natsume stared at him in bafflement. “Why would you need to think about injuries? It’s not like I need special protection. I knew what I was getting into. People get hurt in sports all the time. It’s normal.”

“No, it’s different with you.” Nishimura slammed his hands down on knees, red blotches spreading on his face. “Because when you get hurt, you downplay it or try to hide it, and if you do that in track, it can mess you up for life!” Nishimura was talking faster and faster, the words just pouring out of his mouth. “It’s dangerous because you act like it doesn’t matter, like you don’t matter, and that you don’t get why we all care so much, and I know it’s because you’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to pry, but it makes me so—“

He stopped short, blanching. “Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say all that. U-uh, sorry, just forget it, It’s none of my business…”

A lump formed in Natsume’s throat as shame welled up, hot and bitter on his tongue. “No, I’m sorry, Nishimura,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t realize you were thinking all that, that you were worried. I never wanted to—”

“Natsume, no, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I know it’s not on purpose, I know it’s not your fault.” Nishimura pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is about me saying sorry, not you. I really am sorry. And I know you told Sakuragi you wanted to come back once in a while because you didn’t want to disappoint her, but you don’t have to go back there, I’ll talk to her—”

“You don’t have to talk to her.” Natsume swallowed his shame for now, determined to set things straight. “I liked the team. I really do want to come back.”

“You don’t have to pretend, I told you, don’t lie if you don’t have to—”

“Nishimura,” Natsume interjected gently, putting his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Nishimura finally looked over at him, eyes downcast. “It made me really happy. When we won, and everyone was cheering, and I saw how excited you were…I don’t know. Running is just something I do sometimes, and I don’t think it’s special or particularly like it. But being able to help you was the first time I felt like it was something…more.” More than survival. More than something I’m forced to do.

“Really…?” Nishimura hesitated, looking disbelieving.

“Really. And I really am glad I came here. I enjoyed it, you know, until I tripped. But even then, everyone was nice and helped me. It made me want to come back.”

Nishimura stared at him for a while, expression unreadable. Then he sighed and leaned back. “Okay, well, good.” Natsume could see Nishimura’s shoulders slump as the tension drained out of him. “But I still pushed you. You don’t have to make excuses for me. I’m just sorry I did it and I won’t do it again.”

“Okay, apology accepted.”

Nishimura looked startled, like he’d expected Natsume to keep fighting him on this, then his face broke into a grin. “Thanks, man.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for me either. I’m sorry I’ve been stressing you guys out when I get hurt. I’ll stop hiding it or trying to downplay it. I mean, I do want all of you to understand I…” Natsume knew better than to say he was “used to it” now, so he searched around for a less alarming but still honest way to phrase it. “I have a high pain tolerance, so sometimes it really doesn’t seem like a big deal.

“Dude, that doesn’t make me feel better.” He could tell from how Nishimura looked at him he’d heard the “I’m used to it” even though Natsume hadn’t said it out loud.

“No, I know. Look, from now on, I’ll admit when something hurts.” He looked down at his ankle, wincing. “Like my ankle really hurts right now. I don’t want to go to the hospital but I’m kind of looking forward to getting painkillers.” He looked over at Nishimura. “Did that work? Or did it just sound whiney?”

“Nah, you need to whine a little more, man.” Nishimura punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m telling you, it feels good. When I sprained my ankle a couple years ago, I whined to everyone I knew. That whine was weak. Try harder.”

“It’s…uh, agony. I…might die? Was that good.”

“You need to work on your delivery, but it’s a start.”

They both laughed. Just laughing soothed something in Natsume, his stomach unknotted, and his racing heartbeat slowed. His ankle even hurt a little less.

When the laughter settled, Natsume looked down, twisting his fingers in his lap. “Look, I know I… kind of lie and hide things as reflex a lot. But I’ve been trying to be more open with the people I care about.”

Nishimura shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, Kitamoto and I aren’t that stupid, we know there’s something going on with you, but you can take as much time as you need. I know you must have your reasons.”

“Thanks.”

Nishimura chuckled suddenly, looking past Natsume.

“Uh oh, here comes your cat. He looks mad! It’s almost like he knows something happened.”

Nyanko-sensei was indeed stomping towards them, his eyes narrowed.

“Agh, I’m really in trouble this time,” Natsume said. Nyanko-sensei jumped into his lap, making sure to throw his heavy weight around as he landed. “Oof.”

“Oh, your troubles have just begun. Don’t forget Touko!” Nishimura said cheerfully.

“Like I could.”

“I wouldn’t use the “I could die” line on her, she might believe you.”

“Amazing advice, thank you.”

Nishimura smirked. “I’d tell you to run, but, you know.”

Mmm…” Natsume said, stroking Nyanko-sensei, who was making faint, irritated noises. “That’s okay. There are some things I don’t want to run away from.

---

I hope you enjoyed this! It was way longer than I thought it would be. And I wish I could have made it funnier. But I had a fun time with my first Natsume fic!

I often think about how incredibly fit Natsume must be, yokai-induced sickliness aside. He spends 75% of his life running from yokai, through forests and mountains and all kinds of shit. Every day is a marathon for him, he arguably gets too much exercise (which might contribute to collapsing from exhaustion a lot. over exercising isn't good for you).

But imagine what a fast runner he must be. He's able to sometimes lose yokai despite their supernatural speed etc. And he's been doing this since he's a child? I just want an episode where it's time for track in gym class and everyone's expecting the kid who's constantly sick and exhausted to be the slowest one, but instead he just passes them all at warp speed. WHEN did he have time to get this in shape, isn't he always inches away from keeling over, his class in chaos. Nishimura and Kitamoto are the least surprised since they've seen him running before, but even they didn't think he was THIS fast., wow, what natural talent.

Actually, there should be a running gag where one of the many stressors Natsume faced over the years is track team coaches trying to constantly recruit him in most of the schools he goes to, so he's constantly trying to hide how fast he is because he can't be a burden and have the people he's living with PAY SPORTS EXPENSES omg :(( and also he wouldn't be able to show up for most of the meetings, so. And also he doesn't like most team sports (the real reason).

He's managed to keep it mostly under wraps in Yatsuhara, but then one day it's the sports day episode and Nishimura trips while carrying the baton as they always do and starts crying so Natsume's like "siiiiiiiigh fine don't worry Nishimura I've got this" and suddenly he's at the finish line. Thus his hellish lot of being hounded by the track coach begins anew, thanks a lot Nishimura.

[lilacerull0]

it's about passion growing as an organism outside of you. it's about the horrifying consequences of cutting the umbilical chord between you and your passion. franco mari is eaten by the ghost of his passion, pasquale peluso is eaten by his passion developing independent sentience. lila cerullo is too dependent on the gaps between the fabric of everything to belong to an extreme permanently, but it is possible for her to become her passion's hostage in the heat of the moment except that she has a lifeline... it's elena greco writing an article about the factory because lila is her friend, not because she wants to save the world or because she is wholeheartedly dedicated to the cause. it's enzo scanno knocking on her door simply because he cares enough to do so. it's about how these two people help lila remain in the middle of franco and pasquale on this hypothetical scale of fiery, palpable belief. (notice franco and pasquale's background and how lila is familiar with poverty and wealth both) lila gets to keep her dreams of a better world alive because she is inspired by elena and enzo's headspace, but both of these people look at her and see lila cerullo, not a means to an end. all this to say that no ideal can stand as a solitary creation, it needs to evolve and gather knowledge from specific faces so it won't turn against itself and this can only be accomplished if you have someone to lean on... i'd argue that passion and companionship aren't only compatible, but absolutely necessary in sustaining the heart of both concepts... you can’t support a cause without hearing a fresh perspective on it because it can only grow in one direction that way... it isn't accidental that the only time lila cerullo comes close to fulfilling her childhood dream, it's with people who care about her on an individual level. l'amica geniale is so much about how power twists pure ideas into something unrecognisable (even evident with nino if you choose to perceive his younger self as somewhat genuine) and the only thing capable of offering shape to things is love... you can only create something permanent and solid with love...

[goldfades]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "helloooo! can you write something about reader suspecting paige and azzi’s friendship to be more than a friendship (r and paige are a situationship or sum like that) and just paige reassuring her and saying that she has eyes only for her etc… (paige is literally obsessed with r)? thank you so much 💖💖💖💖💖"

─ word count | 1.3k

─ warnings | hurt to comfort, paige being sassy, reassurance and so much cute fluffy, a singular kiss

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @boiliatfu and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOU AND PAIGE had been friends for a while now, but it was just recently you'd been friends... and a little more.

It was something new, something fun and something secret. The only person who knows was KK only because she'd walked in on the two of you kissing, and now she swears she's "traumatized."

The secret relationship (of some sorts) between you and Paige added an exhilarating edge to your friendship. It was a thrill, the stolen glances, the secretive rendezvous, the whispered conversations laden with double meanings. You found yourselves drawn to each other in a way that went beyond friendship, yet you both reveled in the secretive nature of your relationship.

KK's discovery of your secret sent a ripple of panic through both of you at first. But unsurprisingly, she was more supportive than expected, despite her initial shock. After the initial awkwardness wore off, she became your confidante, the one person you could trust with your affair. She teased you both mercilessly, of course, but it was all in good fun.

But beneath the excitement, there was also a hint of panic. Keeping your newfound romance a secret added an element of danger, a thrill that was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The fear of being discovered lurked in the background, heightening every stolen moment and making each encounter feel all all the more precious.

Yet despite the risks, the connection between you and Paige only seemed to grow stronger. The shared laughter, the stolen kisses, the quiet moments of intimacy — they all served to deepen the bond between you, creating a private world that was uniquely yours.

But of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing.

──

"What do you mean?" Paige's tone had an annoyed edge to it as she sent you a glance. She pulled off a side of her headphones as she kept her eyes glued on the computer screen.

You sighed exasperatedly, sitting up on her bed as you sent her a glare. "What do you think I mean?"

Paige hated when you spoke like that, so secretive and cryptic, like you wanted her to say the wrong thing. She liked things laid out plain and simple, while you preferred to dance around topics, especially ones that felt too vulnerable.

"I don't know, that's why I asked." Paige's voice didn't soften as she spoke, her eyes glancing at you every once in a while. She just had the most tiring practices and the last thing she wanted to do was argue with you.

You huffed, feeling frustrated. "I feel like Azzi has a crush on you or something. I see the way she looks at you, it's like when I look at you — all heart eyes, and shit."

Paige's lips curved into a smirk. "Aww, are you saying you have heart eyes for me?"

"I'm being serious, P." You were frustrated. You hated when you felt insecure, especially in relationships. While Paige never gave you any reason to doubt her, she was just naturally enticing and that's what pulled you to her in the first place.

But that's also why others were so captivated by her. The looks she gets, the way people spoke about her and now the whole TikTok obsession wasn't helping. You hated it — you wanted everyone to know that she was yours, and vice versa.

"Okay, okay." Paige's expression was still very much amused as she glanced toward you. "You know me and Azzi are just friends, we're just really close. I promise you, I'd know if she had a crush on me."

"I have eyes, Paige." You shot back, frustration bubbling in your voice.

You couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity gnawing at you, no matter how much you trusted Paige. The thought of someone else vying for her attention filled you with a sense of unease that you couldn't shake. You also knew that there was still that boundary, you weren't her girlfriend and had no valid reason for you to be jealous.

Paige's eyes widened at your tone. You never called her just by her name, it was some kind of nickname or pet name. She sighed as she pulled her headset off and set it down, turning to face you.

"Hey," Paige began gently, reaching out to take your hand in hers. "You have to believe me when I say there's nothing going on between me and Azzi. She's just a really good friend and she's not into me, and even if she is,"

She paused as she shook her head in amusement at the mere thought. "I don't want her, I want you."

You sighed, still feeling frustrated. "I want to believe you, P. I really do. But it's hard, you know? Seeing how close you two are, and... and knowing that I don't have any claim over you."

She squeezed your hand reassuringly, offering you a small smile. "I know it's not easy, especially when we haven't defined what we are yet. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

You looked up, meeting her gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. But all you found was sincerity in her eyes.

"I care about you, more than I can put into words," Paige continued softly. "And I want you to feel secure in what we have, even if it's not official. You mean a lot to me."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at Paige's words. Despite your doubts, her sincerity shone through, washing away some of your insecurities. Her hand in yours felt warm and comforting, grounding you in the present as you allowed yourself to bask in the affection she offered.

"I trust you, Paige," you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And I care about you too, a lot."

"Besides," Paige continued, her tone playful as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Who needs Azzi when I've got you? You're the one I can't stop thinking about, the one who drives me crazy in the best possible way."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, feeling a rush of affection for the girl sitting beside you. As you leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek, Paige's expression shifted, a teasing glint entering her eyes.

"And uh, speaking of claims," she began, her tone teasing as she traced a finger along your jawline. "You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Can't seem to get you out of my head."

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, really? And what exactly have you been thinking about?"

Paige leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, "Just how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how much I want to make you mine, officially."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, warmth spreading through you at the intensity of her gaze. In that moment, any lingering doubts melted away, leaving only the affection you'd felt for Paige.

"But not right now 'cus this isn't as romantic as I want," she continued as you scoffed playfully. You leaned away slightly only to be pulled back by the blonde.

Paige's playful smirk widened as she pulled you back towards her. "Hey, don't pout. I promise when the time comes, it'll be unforgettable."

"So, you're really going to make me wait?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned into her touch.

Paige smirked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I want it to be perfect, baby. But for now," she added, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, "just know that I'm all yours."

The warmth of her lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire within you. "I'll hold you to that," you murmured against her lips, feeling a surge of affection for the woman in front of you.

Paige smiled against your lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hedwig221b]

several sentence sunday monday

Thanks for the tag, @endwersed!💗 I'm shaking with the need to share this wip that I've been writing for @hotgirlstiles and as it won't see the light until I finish it, I thought I'd treat all of you lovely kittens with this piece

Carefully, he inspected Stiles’ face since the omega refused to meet his eyes. “Do you want a second date?”

Stiles was silent for as long as he could afford, and then murmured a quiet and guilty, “No.”

Sharp satisfaction splashed upon Derek’s insides like burning acid.

“Want me to reject him for you?” he asked with his head inclined.

Stiles stiffened with one steak lifted above the plate. He turned his big eyes at Derek.

“You’ll do that?” he asked in awe-filled disbelief.

Derek clenched his teeth so as not to blurt out all the things he was ready to do just for that gaze alone.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Stiles bloomed with a breathtaking smile. For the first time that day, it was completely genuine, fresh like the first rays of sunshine on the morning dew. His eyes shined and his cheeks went pink with pleasure.

Derek couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

“Thank you,” said Stiles with a true shyness this time trembling in his voice.

Unable to speak, the wolf nodded.

He wanted to run again. Not away, but just run to expel the energy, the rage, and elation that built in him from being near Stiles. All his senses were on edge, strung tight like a cord, ready to snap and take.

How much would Stiles fear him were he to know how close Derek was to wolfing out? Would he run? Would he scream when Derek inevitably chased?

The tips of Derek’s fingers shook with restraint. He clenched them into fists.

He didn’t talk much after that, closer to his wolf than usual. He couldn’t tear his gaze — most certainly intense and uncomfortable — from the now relaxed omega. Derek waited until Stiles took the first bite before taking his own — something that was easily missed by the omega who hardly knew any of the werewolf traditions and what it meant when the alpha steps aside and let you lead.

Stiles crawled under his skin where the fur lay hidden, waiting for a chance to burst and growl. He went further, through Derek’s muscles and his veins — his very flesh — to settle there as if he owned the place.

Derek tasted the food that the omega made for him — god if only he knew — and hungered for the taste of the future with him.

He wasn’t alone in that hunger, though. Oh, no. Those filthy vermin wanted Stiles, too. In fact, one of them sat not even an hour ago across from Stiles, just like Derek did now, and fantasized about the same things.

Yet, Stiles came back to him. He came back because he knew Derek could provide for him just like he wanted. Stiles came back and asked the wolf to get rid of his rival.

If only Stiles knew.

Read full version here

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[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

When They Know They're In Love ~ Vagastrom Edition

I will be doing the other houses and will link them here once they're posted (Frostheim is already done). I hope you like this and if you did, please feel free to send in requests for what you'd like to see.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Alan Mido, Leo Kurosagi, Sho Haizono x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do the characters know they're in love and what will they do when they realise?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, Alan knows what his feelings towards you are. He just refuses to believe them. He’s hurt too many people before and can’t bring himself to put you through that as well.

I think Alan’s feelings would creep up on him slowly but he really feels it when your life is in danger on the first mission the two of you went on.

He saw you in the clutches of the streamer’s ghost and fear and fury burst inside him.

He’s going to barricade himself in his room for a while after that, refusing to see anyone while he works through his feelings and what he should do. But not seeing you hurts him more than his fear of causing you pain.

Eventually, he’ll realise his absence is hurting you as much as it’s hurting him and will come to terms with the fact that he’s got to make things right by telling you how he’s feeling.

“This guy? In love? Yeah, right. With himself maybe.” That’s what Leo’s telling himself in his mirror during his daily affirmations.

He had a plan. Get close to the (admittedly attractive) NPC and show you off on social media for clout and to stir up drama.

Then, just as you were starting to develop real feelings towards him, break off any hope and cut all connection to you.

And then he just had to go and catch feelings when you kept acting so kind towards him. It’s not his fault he was so good at acting you thought he was being genuine. And now, it’s not an act anymore.

Leo’s going to be in denial for a long time but when he does finally realise he wants to be in a relationship with you, he’ll have to come clean. Let’s hope you forgive him.

Sho has a complex relationship with you already. He nearly got you killed because of Leo’s stupid plan. And you’re so supportive of his food truck, something no one else has shown him.

He's just started considering you a real friend when something in his feelings has changed.

So when he realises the sinking feeling in his chest is because you didn’t visit the food truck today and because he really did want to see you, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

He won’t outright tell you his feelings at first but I think he would get a bit more flustered around you, gifting you more handmade snacks and meals out of the usual schedule the two of you have.

He’s got to try and be subtle though. The last thing he wants is for anyone (Leo) to find out before he gets to chance to confess his love to you properly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[astral-gamma]

bsd x reader when some bsd men are talking to another woman or person and they seem to be getting just a liiiittle too comfy so reader get jealous and is clingy all day but doesn't speak and/or ignores them. reader can be fem or gn

fluff , no smut or seggs pls

chars: fyodor, nikolai, dazai, ranpo and whoever else you want! (but maily fyodor cuz i'm a s.i.m.p)

(i can see reader just dragging niko where ever she/they go but don't even make eye contact with him)

u wanted requests and i thoughts of this so you can do it whenever u want and also thank you!

Characyers: Fyodor-Dazai-Nikolai-Ranpo (separeted) making reader jealous ^^

Note!: this took so long yet i couldve done much better 'cause i dont really like it *cries*

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ──

FYODOR 

Fyodor has been spending the whole day with this cute girl and ignoring you, it's not as we was cheating on you,you knew that, and you also knew that she Was just a pice for a new plan of his… yet he was only looking at her you kinda felt bad and sad. you felt a shockwave go through you as you  saw him smiling with her, a sudden jealously that I had not expected. His enthusiastic motions drew her in like a magnet as he leaned in a bit too near. You observed from a distance, creating fantastical stories about their friendship in your head. What were the secrets they were sharing during those giggly conversations? you couldn't help but feel irritated by his lack of interest.

As the day went by , dusk approached, the boy with darker locks eventually decided to come back to the house you shared.

Your cheeks were still wet from the tears you had just cried, and you were already fast asleep, cuddled up under the covers of your large bed. Fyodor, who was incredibly smart despite everything, saw this and knew right once what was going on.He knew what was coming for the day when he woke up the next morning with you in his arms (obviously, it wasn't bothering him in the least; in fact, he was just glad to have you close)... He probably knew that you had no intention of leaving him for at all, and for the rest of the day, Fyodor tried to work but was distracted by your soft touches and gentle actions. Eventually, he gave up and paid attention to you, giving you the cuddles and small gestures that you sorely needed.

"Still jealous my Mishka?"

You said nothing just stayed in is warmth “oh my,my dear i love you and you only”

DAZAI

we all know how dazai flirts with all girls but this time he went over the limit and spent the whole time talking to the waitress despite her and YOUR  discomfort. It was supposed to be your date and what does he do? Flirts and is with another girl!!!? 

When you were then on your way home he tried to talk to you and start a conversation but your responses were a simple "mh mh" or "yeah sure" in a cold and uncaring tone and this behavior went on until the next morning. You had calmed down and were getting up and noticed that the raven-haired boy had already disappeared to who knows where....

You got ready to go to work and noticed that your boyfriend was already there,without thinking much about it I took the chair and stood beside him linking your arms to his upper arm

He looked at you with a confused look

"Bella! You need"

No answer

"Bella?" 

No answer,just you snuggling into his arm

He understood and left you there while he did everything but work

NIKOLAI

Having a bright and cheeky nature, Nikolai would naturally draw attention from others.

You observed with a sinking heart as Nikolai struck up conversations with appealing girls.

You wondered, your mind racing with uncertainties and fears, "What if Nikolai prefers the company of those girls over me?"

You couldn't get rid of the uneasy sensation in the air that night as they sat by the fireplace because you couldn't look Nikolai in the eyes."What troubles you, my love?" With a soft voice, Nikolai questioned.

But you remained silent.You rushed up from where you were sitting and hopped on him, giving him a tight embrace without saying anything. The man realized after some consideration that you were probably overthinking things.

 Nikolai held your hands in his and soothed your anxious state with kind words of passion and love as his eyes softened with tenderness. He explained that while he appreciated the beauty of others, it was you who held the key to his heart, and no one else was comparable to you.

RANPO 

Ranpo acts and behaves in a very childish manner; he is direct in everything he says and does, frequently acting without hesitation.

He doesn't even understand it at first—he's the greatest investigator in all of Japan, yet he's incredibly naive—he doesnt even realise hes making you jealous and kinda feel bad.He didn't even look at you during a investigation in which you were tasked with assisting him, and he ignored you if you had something to say. All he was thinking about was that case and how he could make himself stand out and demonstrate that he was the greatest, the smartest, he and he only...

You'd be lying if you said this behavior wasn't upsetting you.You choose to remain in the distance, maybe to let time pass or in hopes that someone would eventually take notice of you.

Ranpo only returned to you a few hours later, mumbling about how foolish everyone was in comparison to him after Ranpo's Ultra Deduction had solved the case.

You didn't respond, and he realized right away—not because of his incredible deduction, per se, but also because he observed your depressing attitude.

He let you snuggle and love him because he knew deep down thats what you wanted and opened his arms to make you feel better and in hope you'll forgive him. 

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXVII

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie, I'm proud of this chapter, it's better than the last one which I'm not completly satisfied with. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

You gasped as your soul came back inside your body. You couldn’t help but feel fear sipping through your body, making you stand up quickly. You felt like something was coming toward you, at a racing speed.

You looked at your shadow which was frowning, staring at the entrance, her form being bigger and bigger, her growing presence overwhelming all the room. Your breathing was getting quicker and quicker, what was going on?

You tried to talk with Legba but you were too panicked to be able to summon a tangible link. You rushed into the kitchen as you felt another presence watching you. You took a knife and waited with your shadow at your side. It was snarling and growling, staying protectively near you. 

You flinched when your shadow rushed toward something, making you freeze. You waited, your grip on the blade showing no sign of weakness. You waited before seeing your shadow coming back with its usual hideous smile. You tilted your eyes, you couldn’t feel the presence… What you could feel was…

“ Alastor?”

You went into the living room where Alastor’s shadow was looking around, everywhere. It stopped when it saw you and rushed toward you, caging you in its embrace with his horrific smile. You patted its head with a relieved smile.

“ Good boy…” You watched as it beamed before it latched toward your own shadow and both of them began their usual banter. You sat on the sofa, calming your nerves. If Alastor’s shadow was here, it certainly meant he felt something like you did. But it also meant Alice and Alyzée were alone without protection… 

You called the two shadows to you which both went toward you, waiting for your commands. You tilted your head, crossing your arms against your chest, your finger tapping against your arms.

“ I don’t think I can manage to send my own shadow so far away from me, so you need to go back to Alice and Alyzée.” you said, sighing when you saw Alastor’s shadow fuzzing with anger, his smile dropping into a snarl. It moved toward you and wrapped its hand around your ankle, smiling once more. You pouted, it seemed like Alastor had decided that his priority would be you.

You looked at your shadow which was tugging Alastor’s shadow’s hair. Maybe you could try to send your own shadow..

“ Do you think you can protect our friends ?” you asked, ignoring Alastor’s shadow frown. Your shadow smiled hideously at you, nodding eagerly. You sended her to your friend and as soon as your shadow was out of your property, you fell on the sofa, your eyes closed.

You couldn’t move. It was a strange feeling, it was like you were watching from someone else's eyes. Your own body couldn’t move, you needed to be so concentrated to keep your shadow moving to Alice’s position.  How could Alastor manage to do his daily life when his shadow was always attached to Alyzée or you? 

You felt the Alastor’s shadow squeezed your ankle, like an encouraging gesture. If you could have, you would have smiled at it. It was oddly cute, it seemed like a more twisted version of Alastor when he was younger.

You looked through your shadow’s eyes which were already at Alice’s side. Your friends were talking with a woman about God. You tried to see if the man who watched you  was around but it seemed like he was gone. Well, you panicked for nothing…

You looked at the lady, she was kind of cute, holding a Bible against her chest, explaining something to your friends. It’s when you saw Alice and Alyzée’s uncomfortable face that you decided to listen to what the lady was saying.

“ We must fight those people who go against God’s will. Some women fancies other women, how disgusting.”

Ah.

Well, that wasn’t a pleasant conversation at all.  You looked around, maybe you could make something happen so the unpleasant lady would back off from your friends. You looked through your shadow eyes, looking around. 

You didn’t want Alice to support the lady’s yapping more than she already indulged. You saw a group of men, chatting on the other side of the road, one holding a dog by his leash, but the dog was staring in your direction. The dog was wagging his tail lazily, seeming to look in your directions.

Could animals see the spirits ?

You asked your shadow to move toward the dog, wanting to test your theory and you smiled when the dog barked at your shadow, his tail wagging energetically. That was interesting information… You looked toward Alice and Alyzée, going back toward them as the two women were looking at the dog who was making noises.

You giggled but then froze when you saw the lady looking at you, seeming paler than she was a minute ago. She jerked her head toward the dog, before trying to come back to her discussion with your friends. Did… Did she see your shadow ? You needed to find out if she could see you, then you would know how to act. 

You forced your shadow to approach the lady who clenched her Bible harder against her chest. You could feel your shadow smiling down on the poor woman, in its usual horrific way. You smirked when you saw the woman looking at your shadow.

You got her, now what should you do? Follow her or stay with your friends in case something happens?

You turned around when you heard a panting noise coming from behind you. You turned around and saw Victor, catching his breath as he looked at Alice and Alyzée with a tired smile.

“ Hha… Alastor… told me to fetch you.” Victor said to your friend with a friendly smile.

Once again, your husband was just… perfect with his timing.

The lady ran away from your friends who seemed shocked. You demanded your shadow to follow the woman which it gladly did. As your shadow was following the woman, you felt your own body getting tired. How exhausting that exercise was! How could Alastor manage it? The woman ran for ten minutes before going inside a building. You watched as your shadow followed her, seeming to have much fun. 

The shadow entered the building, which seemed to be abandoned. It looked around, once again, its childish curiosity making it hard not to find it cute. It looked at a dirtied doll before going after the woman. You didn’t know where she went but it shouldn’t be hard to find her. 

You could only hear noise and see when you were inside your shadow, so you were a little confused when it moved toward a room with excitement. You looked inside and saw a.. was that a lamb? Your shadow moved toward it, touching the dead animal with morbid fascination. What was a lamb doing here..?  The room was dark, you couldn’t see anything but the lamb in the middle of the room. There was so much blood…

“ We got you.”

Your shadow turned around, snarling as a man was standing in front of the entrance of the room. 

Fuck.

You commanded your shadow to attack the man. You didn’t want to lose this time,  and furthermore, this man gave you the same vibes as the stalker who attacked you last time. You needed to see his face. 

The man avoided your shadow attacks with strange precision. You let your shadow play with him, letting him get away before trying to reach for him once more, keeping an evil smile on its face. You were trying to see the man's face, but because of the cloat he was wearing it was even more difficult with the darkness in this room.

Wait… Didn’t he say.. We got you..?

You felt your shadow snarl in pain when you heard a feminine voice chanting something. You squint your eyes, trying to see where the voice was coming from. You watched as your shadow tried to run away but it seemed like it was caged between an invisible shield. You looked around and saw with incomprehension something on the floor, around your shadow making it impossible for it to run away. Was that..Salt?

You looked up when the man lit a candle making you capable of seeing around you. The walls around you were gray but you could see blood dripping on it. You frowned as your shadow tried to make itself bigger, snarling at the man in front of it, banging against the shield.

“ Oh lord, you were right…”

The voice came behind the man and then you saw the woman you were after. Her Bible was opened and she was looking at your shadow with disgust and fear. You could feel anger swirling inside your belly, how dared she look at you that way? 

“ Yes, I saw her thanks to the Lord. We need to get rid of it.”

What was going on…? You looked as the woman began to read her bible, chanting something you couldn’t understand. You looked as your shadow began to snarl in pain, its body bending in awkward shape, its hand trying to keep the noise from coming inside its ears. 

You felt helpless, you couldn’t do anything but watch as your shadow seemed to be burned alive. You didn’t know why, but you felt foreign energy going inside of you, you knew you were upset and yet you didn’t feel any emotion. The man watched as your shadow was hissing in pain with a satisfied smile. 

You stared at the salt keeping your shadow caged. You could.. make it go away. It seemed like your shadow was the only thing being affected by the chanting. You closed your eyes, trying so hard to raise your hand. You could feel your own body in your house, moving like you were doing right here. Come on… Just a little push…

You wanted to use your telekinesis on the book or the salt, to break the barrier. You inhaled before energy busted out of you, making the woman fall backward and send the salt away, breaking the shield. You shouted in your mind at your shadow to run, to go back home at your side right now.

The man tried to keep your shadow but it snarled with pure fury, clawing at the man’s face before rushing out of the building, running back home. 

You opened your eyes with difficulty, you needed to see your shadow. Was it okay..? You sat up slowly, Alastor’s shadow trying to help you with a worried frown. You looked around you and frowned when you saw furniture on the ground. Did you use your power near your shadow but also here…? You patted the shadow’s head before jerking your head to the door, seeing your shadow coming home, cuddling its arms against itself.

Alastor’s shadow rushed toward yours, looking at what was wrong with your shadow. You walked toward them, crouching in front of them. Your shadow looked like half of its face had been taken off. You grimaced as your shadow kept a frown on its face, even with Alastor’s shadow trying to cheer it up. 

“ Let me heal you…”

You yelped when both of the shadows snarled at you with anger. You blinked at their reaction.

“ What? You don’t want me to heal you?”

“ And they are right, my love.” 

You turned your face toward the door and smiled at Alastor who was clearly irritated. He walked toward your shadow and looked at its injury. You didn’t need him to talk to know he wanted to know what was going on. You told him everything that happened, watching as his body tensed as you explained what happened in the abandoned building.

“ Mhn..We need answers. Kalfu, come here.”

“ Papa Legba, would you please join us?”

You watched as the two spirits were leaning comfortably against the wall. Kalfu was smirking, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. Legba was looking at you with his usual warm expression. You stood up with Alastor and everyone went into the kitchen.

“ I have questions. Would you betray us?” Alastor asked, drinking the coffee you made him.

“ Alastor!”

“ No offense taken, little lady.” Papa Legba said with a genuine smile. “ What is a betrayal for you? If you are asking if I will give others an access to the spiritual realm, as long as they give me a sacrifice, I will.” You looked as Alastor’s smile twitched.

You frowned at his answer.

“ Then, if I fight against someone who works with you… How are we going to deal with it? Would you tell our secret to them?”

“ Why would I do that? I will give access to a spirit they want to work with, nothing more.” Legba tilted his head, watching you calmly. “ If you were to fight with someone I helped, I won’t intervene, it is only your control over your powers that will help you.”

“ But I know my wife is your protégée, right?” Alastor asked with his usual smile. You watched as Legba looked at Alastor, staying silent for a moment. What was a protégée exactly..? You asked your husband who explained it to you. “ A protégée my dear, is when a Spirit is fond of a human who tries to reach for them. Like a mentor student relationship. The spirit decided to be more present, without needing to ask for a sacrifice each time they are called depending on the situation.”

You beamed at Papa Legba who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“ Am I your protégée ?” you asked with a big smile. You didn’t know why but you saw Legba as your grandpa and knowing he was watching over you was comforting. The spirit smiled, sighing before patting your head.

“ I guess you are.”

You smiled at Alastor who smirked at you. You looked at Kalfu who was looking in your direction when he felt your gaze on him. He smirked at you still trying after all those years to make you scared. You weren’t afraid of Kalfu anymore but you knew he could be so scary sometimes, so you didn’t want to push your luck.

“ Is Kalfu’s protégée Alastor?” you asked curiously. You flinched when Kalfu roared with a mocking laughter.

“ Ooh, yes he is. But unlike your sweet relationship with Legba, I won’t run to save Alastor’s life. He can save his own, if not, why would I be there? I can help him in other ways, but don’t call me for sweet things like saving his life. Isn't that why you are here, little missy?”

You looked at Alastor who nodded, smirking mockingly at Kalfu. You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. They must  talk about your healing abilities…Talking about healing… You turned your head toward the two shadows and felt sad.

Your shadow was still unmoving even with Alastor’s shadow moving around it, tugging its hair and waiting to see if it would react. It seemed to be more worried each time your shadow wasn’t giving it a proper reaction.

“ How could my shadow be hurted like this?”

You looked at the three men in front of you. Now, you needed to understand what happened in that building. Legba crossed his arms after smoking, his pipe fuming in a smoothing way.

“ Well, you saw it yourself , didn’t you?”

“ What do you mean?” you asked, making a cold chocolate for you.

“It was an offering, aren’t you not used to seeing them now?” Alastor asked, stroking your cheeks. “ From what you told me, the lamb was an offering.” He looked at Legba who nodded. “ Was it for you?”

“I’m more of a rooster man. This offering wasn’t for me.”

You frowned, looking at Kalfu who smirked at you before shaking his head. It wasn’t for him either.

“ Well, they did have a Bible with them, so I’m not surprised either…” you mumbled, drinking your cold chocolate.

“ We can work with christianity.” Legba said with a small smile. You tilted your head, curiously but he didn’t say anything more.  You looked as your husband took your hand, stroking your skin, deep in thoughts. You looked at Legba with a sad smile.

“ Can .. Can you heal my shadow..?”

Legba turned his gaze toward your shadow, still being taken care of by Alastor’s shadow. He stood up and walked toward them, smiling as Alastor’s shadow kept yours against its. Legba touched your shadow, a red energy coming off him. You closed your eyes as the light was getting too strong for you to be able to see what was going on.

After a minute, you blinked your eyes and you smiled as your shadow was moving everywhere, clearing happy to be painless once more. Alastor’s shadow was staring at it before tugging its hair once more and smiled when it saw your shadow running after him in the house. You sighed, relieved. 

You thanked Legba who asked for a rooster in exchange, which you accepted.

“ Then, is it possible for them to work with angels?”

All heads turned toward Alastor. Angels…? You never thought they existed but now, it could be a possibility… Could you compare Papa Legba to an angel? You didn't know how to compare their power… Well, Legba told you the power was held in the person who asked a spirit, so maybe… With a good plan you could take someone who was working with an angel..? How complicated.

“ It is highly possible, even more so if they had a Bible with them.”

“ Mhn, It’s not my favorite hypothesis.” Laughed Kalfu with a smirk, looking at you with a knowing smile. Alastor stared at his spirit, his smile never faltering. “ Now, I have other things to do, if you excuse me.”

You looked as Kalfu vanished from his chair in a dark mist. You looked at Legba who smiled at you, asking you not to forget his rooster before walking away, vanishing behind a wall. You waited a few seconds before looking at Alastor who was sighing, his eyes closed.

You walked toward him and kissed his cheek which made him look at you.

“ Ahh, darling, do you want me to die younger because of stress?” He said as he tugged you on his laps, his arms around your waist. You tilted your head as he kept talking. “ I sended Victor to take care of the girl so you would go back home, and yet… You went into the big bad wolf’s mouth, not even planning something. I taught you better than that, right?” He purred, his lips against your cheek.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

“ I’m sorry. I was… too excited I think.”

Alastor hummed against your skin as he watched both of your shadows playing with each other. You smiled fondly at the view.

“ Don’t you think they acted like us when we were younger?” you giggled as Alastor’s shadow poked yours on its cheek, making it snarl at it.

“ I think the same… But they are deadlier.” Alastor gave you a sinister smile which made you shiver. You kissed his lips, humming as he kissed you back. You pushed your body against his, singing in bliss when you felt his nails digging into your skin. You whispered against his lips.

“ You don’t feel sick anymore..?” 

“ I was not sick dear, I was just… tired.” he kissed you back before you could answer back, making you chuckle against his lips. You knew that Alastor and you would find those who dared disturbed the peace you created for yourself. 

It’s been so long since you felt another predator was in New Orleans. But you would win, like always.

—-

You were with Alice, at her home. 

It’s been two months since you discovered your new ‘enemies’. You didn’t expect it to put so much mental charge in your mind. You could feel their eyes on you on the street and yet you couldn’t find them. Fortunately, they didn’t show up and didn’t attack you, or Alastor or anyone else. Alastor and you went into the abandoned building, multiple times to search through every floor and you didn't find anything. It felt like they cleaned everything before vanishing.

You’ve been making yourself sick over this. It felt like the danger could happen any time. You were sleeping less, you had nausea and you were getting emotional with the lack of sleep. Sometimes you could cry because Alastor came later than usual and you thought he had been killed by the couple you couldn’t find in this bloody town.

Alastor, seeing your state getting worse, demanded you to stop caring about this and that he would handle it himself, but you shouted at him that you would never let him go alone against two persons that had power which you didn’t know anything about. 

You knew Alastor was getting more worried about you, you could see it in his eyes even when he was smiling like usual. Sometimes it was scaring yourself how you would lose yourself to your nerves. This was the most difficult thing you've ever done.

Killing Alastor’s father  was your first, but it was easy, it happened one night and it was gone, just like all your victims. You would track them down and kill them with Alastor by your side. Now, it felt like you were the prey, but unlike your previous victims, you knew you were being hunted.

You sighed, it’s been going on for two months and you didn’t discover anything, the only thing news was that Baron Samedi was coming to check on you more often. You wondered if Alastor asked him to… Well, when you asked him, Baron Samedi just smiled at you with a knowing look so you guessed it was Alastor’s doing.

“ Fuck it, I’m calling a doctor.”

You turned your head toward Alice, who had a nice small bum which made you smile. She was now six weeks pregnant. Pregnancy looked good on her… Wait, what did she say?

“ No, no need. I’m just… tired.” you sighed, lying on the couch, closing your eyes.

“ You’ve been in this state for more than two weeks. I’m calling our best doctor, don’t move.” She stood up and called her butler. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep but you woke up with a gasp when you felt a touch on your shoulder. You sighed when you saw Alice who was beaming at you with a doctor next to her. You knew she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t know you were using your power most of the time to watch if the couple that attacked you was around… 

Well, let’s just let Alice win this time.

You let the doctor examine you and smirked when he told you seemed very tired. You stared at Alice, with a ‘ I told you so’ gaze. She just snapped her fingers, demanding that you keep your focus on the doctor.

You felt cold around you and frowned when you saw Baron Samedi behind the doctor, staring at him with an amused smile. You tilted your head and gasped when the spirit went inside the doctor's body, making the man faint.

Alice gasped as she touched the man’s shoulder.

“ Mister,are you okay?”

The doctor, which you knew was possessed by Baron Samedi, smiled at her. You could see his eyes were different, you wondered if Alice could see it…

“ I’m doing great. I’m here to tell you what kind of sickness Mrs.Sanglar is having.”

You frowned, was he joking with you? What was he doing–?

“ You are pregnant.”

…

“ What?” Alice and you said in unison.

“ Congratulations, you must be around nine or ten weeks pregnant.” Baron Samedi smiled.

You screamed with Alice, both of you panicking. You stood up, placing your hands on your belly, screaming at Alice who was helding your hands with hers, screaming with you. You needed to calm down, you needed to calm down ! It could be a bad joke of Baron Samedi.

“ Wait, Alice we can’t panic at the same time!” You shouted, trying to calm yourself. You needed to… to calm yourself.

“ You are right. I’m going to panic first, then it’s your turn.” said Alice before screaming, moving around the living room.

You looked at Baron Samedi, still possessing the doctor’s body.

“ Are you joking? It is a nasty joke?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“ No, I promise. It explained your nausea, your emotional state, you didn’t get your period not because of stress but because you are pregnant.”

You sat on the couch, your whole body shaking from excitement, fear and happiness. You were pregnant..? You were going to have a baby..? Alastor and you were going to have a baby…? Oh my God.. 

You gasped when Alice touched your shoulder.

“ I finished panicking, it's your turn.”

You screamed in joy and pure fear once more. Alice hugged you, being mindful of her belly, her eyes getting teary. You didn't know why you began to sob, hugging her against you. You were pregnant… Oh God, oh God!

You needed to see Alastor right now!

You took you things, already asking for someone to take you to Alastor work. Then you stopped yourself, Alice bumping against your back.

“ No, maybe I should do a surprise for him? But will he see it coming ? What do I do ? What if he doesn’t want children, we never really talk about it? Oh, I need to tell Marie, and my mother, and my father! Oh and–” you stopped talking when Alice put her finger on your lips with a genuine smile.

“ Sweetie, deep breath…” 

You closed your eyes and did as she told you, calming yourself. You bit your lips, oh lord, you were pregnant… You opened your eyes, feeling something you never felt in your life. There was a life that was beginning to grow inside you..

“ Now, what do you want to do?” Asked Alice.

“ I want to see Alastor.” you said, your voice calmer than a minute ago.

Alice nodded with a smile and asked one of her drivers to drive you to Alastor’s workplace. You were bouncing on the seat, stroking your belly, still flat for now. You felt like you were in a maze, you felt light but also heavy.

You ran out of the car once it parked. You looked down as you saw your shadow looking at you curiously. You told it to stay silent, watching as it went back to its normal form. 

“ Victor, is Alastor working?” you asked, panting,  when you saw the man in the corridor. He looked at you with a welcoming smile before shaking his head.

“ He is inside but he finished working.”

You thanked him before entering Alastor’s office, and closed the door behind you. You watched as your husband was looking at you with a fond smile. You were breathing hard, which immediately made him stand up with a worried expression even if his smile was still present.

“ Well, darling, you look like you ran from something… or someone? Did you see them?” you smile as his eyes flashed red when he asked you if you ran into the catholic couple. You shook your head as you took his hand and placed it against your cheek.

“ No, no… I… I have good news. Well, I hope it’s going to be good news…”

You watched as Alastor looked at you, confused but let you speak. You kept your gaze on his face,  taking his hand from your cheek to place it against your belly. He tilted his head, confused. He looked so cute like this.

“ I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his eyes widened and his smile dropped, making your heart clenched. Was he not happy..? You waited for him to talk, you knew he always needed to have time with his thoughts but right now you needed him to act right now.

You watched as he kneeled in front of you, staring at your belly with a mix of fascination and confusion. You let him touch your stomach with a soft smile, he looked like a kid again, when he discovered something he never expected to exist. 

“ You… I’ve made you… pregnant?” he asked softly, lifting his head up to watch you. You chuckled as you stroke his cheeks, your voice soft.

“ Yes.. I’m carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

“ Yes… Our child.” You smiled at him, your eyes getting teary. He scooped you in his arms, laughing. 

“ Who would have thought ! There is something… in your belly that we created together…” He stared at you in fascination. He seemed fascinated that you both created something that would be alive.

You kissed him softly and giggled when you felt his shadow touched your belly with curiosity. It was poking at your belly then it went to poked your shadow’s belly who let him do it. Alastor made you sit down before opening the door and asking Victor to bring you a cup of water.

You looked at your belly. You were creating life, after killing so many people. You smiled, in a few months, you would meet your baby, something you and Alastor’s love created. 

You couldn’t wait.

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[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: actually, I don't know where this story is heading. Maybe it will turn into a reverse harem? I really don't know. This is a story by the way. Not just an one shot.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

Links:

Skateboard 2

Skateboard 3

Skateboard 4

I set my lollipop down and adjusted my grip on my skateboard. It was hard to believe I was here, in the club, waiting to sell my bike. I hadn't ridden it in ages; I was tired of it and preferred skateboarding. Someone wanted to buy my bike, and we were supposed to meet here.

I smoothed out my long, curly hair and glanced at my reflection on my phone. I sighed. I hadn't bothered with lipstick, but my two-toned lips stood out on my plump ones. My mood soured as I overheard people whispering again in the club, as if I couldn't hear them.

"Dude, check out that girl! She looks like she's from abroad, right?"

"Wow, she's stunning. I've never seen curls like that on a girl before."

I just rolled my eyes and went back to sucking on my lollipop.

I shifted my gaze to the commotion from the side. There was a scuffle going on, and it seemed like someone was throwing punches. Furrowing my brow, I spotted the tall guy with blue hair. He had piercings and was looking at me, his face devoid of emotion. There was blood on his hands. I quickly looked away and checked the time.

Where was that guy?

"Well, well, I didn't expect you to be this early, Demitra," someone called out to me.

And there was Wooin, sporting his usual smug expression, his signature glasses perched on his nose. My attention was drawn to the guy beside him. Like the one I saw by the ring earlier, his hair color was different too. It was red... And not just that. One of his eyes was red as well.

Interesting.

"If you weren't going to buy my bike, you should've told me earlier so I wouldn't be here," I said irritably. I noticed the red-haired guy's gaze on me.

"Who is this?" My skin almost tingled at the chilling voice of the man with red hair. I tilted my head to the right, gazing at him with a hint of curiosity.

"No one. I'm just a nobody, weird guy," I replied sharply.

His expression turned to anger almost instantly, replacing whatever had been there before. He seemed about to step forward when Wooin stepped in. Instead of fear, I felt even more irritated. Wooin's smirk only added to my frustration. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Are you buying it or not?" I said, my annoyance clear.

"Oh, come on, what's the rush?" He held my waist and gently seated me on a bar stool chair. I glanced down at it, then shot a cold look at Wooin.

I had to admit, the guy I'd met was good-looking. It made sense why he caught the eye of so many women in the club. But he also seemed dangerous. Besides his rumored wealth, there were whispers of him taking down numerous men.

"I'll pay you triple," he said with a smirk, standing close in front of me as I sat.

"This is just a bike," I retorted.

"Honestly, I don't want your bike," he licked his lips before fixing his gaze on me. "I want to see you riding that bike."

I furrowed my brow, tightening my grip on my skateboard. We locked eyes for a moment. It had been a while since I rode a bike. Frankly, I was tired of it. It had become so dull to use.

"Not happening," I said firmly. "And why should I even consider it?" I added, glaring at him.

"Because we need you," he whispered to me before leaning in closer. My eyes widened at his action. Before I could respond, the man with red hair reached out and grabbed Wooin. I could see the frustration and confusion in his eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked, trying to keep his composure.

Wooin grinned. "You know what I mean, Vinny."

So that's his name.

"You want her to be in our crew?" I glanced at the man who had been in the boxing ring earlier. His face was emotionless. I had to look up due to his towering height. He was the tallest of the two.

"A girl? You want that girl to be part of us? Are you kidding me?" Vinny couldn't believe it, giving me a disdainful look.

"She's not just a girl, Vinny," Wooin gave me a mischievous look. "Don't underestimate a girl who knows how to skateboard."

I stood up and locked eyes with Wooin. "Don't drag me into your childish games. Biking is not my thing anymore. Maybe it's just for kids like you."

The man with blue hair remained emotionless. Vinny's face was full of anger. I didn't care about their drama. They just wasted my time. If I had just joined my new school instead, I wouldn't have been late.

"Who do you think you are?" Vinny was about to step closer, but I smiled.

"I'm just a girl, Vinny," I said innocently, causing him to pause. I was just throwing back to him what he said.

As I stormed out of the bar, frustration boiling inside me, I snatched the bike. That jerk wasted my time! Now I'm going to be late for school. I hopped onto the bike, hastily tucking my skateboard behind me. Ugh, I have no choice but to ride this bike again. Being super late for school isn't my idea of fun.

"If I ever find that guy again, I swear, I'm going to give him a hard punch in the face," I grumbled to myself as I pedaled faster.

Suddenly, a blur whizzed past me at lightning speed. He was wearing the same uniform as me. I tilted my head to the right, observing his biking skills. He seemed... skilled. Glasses perched on his nose, sporting a mullet haircut.

I don't know why it brought a smirk to my lips. His moves were so familiar. It was like watching myself from back when I used to bike in junior high. I pedaled the bike faster, surprising the guy with glasses as I passed him. I just smiled at him before speeding up even more. The gap between us widened.

I chuckled before glancing back. He was now looking at me intensely. 

Well, I didn't know there were so many handsome guys here in Korea.

I didn't see him anymore, so I shrugged it off. When I arrived at Sunny High, I gasped for breath as I unstrapped my skateboard. I parked my bike as well.

"You're new..."

I glanced back. It was him. His bike was already parked. He arrived before me. I immediately knew he took a shortcut. There's no way he could have beaten me otherwise.

"Yeah," I replied shortly before putting on my black glasses. "Great ride, by the way. Are you a pro?" I asked while adjusting my skateboard, securing it to my bike.

"No," he said with a puzzled look. "You seem to know how to ride too," he pointed out.

I smirked. "You think so?"

He didn't reply, just looked at my bike and skateboard.

"Nah, I'm just a beginner," I laughed.

"Jay! Damn, man. The first period is over! Why are you late?"

I froze as Jay and I both turned to look at the guy beside us. I noticed two guys walking towards us. The one who spoke was the bearded guy in a hoodie. He had a companion with a gentle face. I lazily grabbed my bag from the bike.

"Whoa... you're with a girl!? Wait a minute. Is she a foreigner?!" the bearded guy exclaimed in surprise and slight panic. I shot him an annoyed look.

"No," Jay replied shortly. Answering his first question.

"Dom, lower your voice. You might scared the girl," the guy with the gentle face playfully scolded.

I kept my expression neutral. What's up with these guys? I know they're seniors like me, but why are they so hyper? I was surprised to notice that we were being watched by students, especially the freshmen. It seems his group of friends is quite popular, huh?

"You're cheating on Shelly?" Dom exclaimed in shock.

"Stop it," Jay said coldly. Who's Shelly? His girlfriend? Oh hell nah. I need to stay away from him then. I sighed, what a waste, he's handsome.

"Do you know where room 21 is?" I asked formally.

Dom's jaw dropped. "You're our new classmate?!"

"Of course, Miss. Jay and Dom are in the same class as you. We can show you the way," the polite guy who was with Dom offered.

"June, you might get a nosebleed! What if she suddenly speak a different language!?" Dom became hysterical. I just facepalmed.

"I'm good. Thanks."

I was surprised when Jay suddenly walked alongside me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"This is also the way to my room," he stated as if it were obvious. I also heard his two friends walking behind us.

"Shit, am I seeing things right? Jay is with some foreigner chick! She's hot!"

"I thought Jay has a girlfriend?"

There they go whispering again. It's only my first day at school and this is what greets me. Why am I assigned to the same room as these famous students?

"Hey Miss! Do you know--"

"Demitra," I cut Dom short. "My name is Demitra."

He scratched his head. "Oh yeah, Demitra. I see you can ride a bike? Your bike model is nice, suitable for tournaments. Why didn't you join?"

I furrowed my brow. "Tournament? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

His jaw dropped. "What?! So you don't know we're part of a crew?" I remained confused. "Like Hummingbird? Haven't you heard of it? The famous crew?"

"Stop praising yourself, Dom," June laughed.

"Oh come on, man! I was just telling the truth! Demitra, you see, I'm the Sprinter of the group. I'm one of the skilled ones in the crew. And this Jay here is our Ace! He's really a God when it comes to race! You can ask him to teach you." He's so talkative.

I glanced to my side. Jay was quiet, his hands in his pockets, looking ahead as if lost in his own thoughts. So this man is their ace, huh? Not bad. He seems really good.

"Isn't it a bit childish to still be biking? It's just for kids," I said suddenly, making everyone stop and look at me.

"But you're also riding a bike," June pointed out with a frown.

"As if I have a choice. I was supposed to sell that bike, but the guy who was supposed to buy it tricked me. If ever I see that man, I will kick his ass until he bleeds." I felt my temper rising again.

"Maybe it's just not for you," Jay spoke up unexpectedly. "It seems biking is not for everyone. That includes you," his voice suddenly changed.

"Damn, did I hurt your feelings that much?"

He didn't respond but just shrugged. "How about this then," I faced him. "Race with me." He paused.

"Demitra... I don't think it's a good idea," June said with concern.

Dom dramatically covered his mouth, unable to believe that I challenged his friend to a bike race. I just grinned, feeling like I caught Jay's attention and made him face me. His face remained emotionless.

"If I win, let me join your cute crew," I grinned and crossed my arms in front of him. "And if I lose, I will do your assignments for a week. How about that?"

"Jay... Don't do it. She's a girl! We don't fight against them--" Dom's words were cut off when Jay spoke.

"Get your math book ready then. We have an assignment there."

[bigshotautos]

I really like your theory about Spamton basically haunting a mannequin after death. Have you ever touched upon the reaction from Jevil (or anyone, really) upon seeing the new Spamton? Especially considering Spamton isn't even aware he 'died'.

^ how i think jevil's first sight of Spamton would go. i love this ask. this is referring to some headcanons I made a while back, I'll link it here for the one post and the general ghost spamton theory is linked in that one as well. Going to elaborate on it more under the cut for those interested + more art.

In general I think that people from Spamton's past wouldn't really care if they notice at all, since he wasn't in the business of making close friends with anyone. With the Addisons, in my interpretation he had a "weird co-worker" relationship with them, and while Addisons in general treated each other like potential business competitors that they had to make-nice with, Spamton is especially easy to single out for being visibly and temperamentally different. His altered, current state is something they'd feel at least uncomfortable by, but many wouldn't have been too close with him to begin with for them to talk about it with him directly. Would get whispered about between each other for sure, like we saw with them talking about Spamton after the NEO fight. It moves him from the "disgraced guy I used to know" category to the "actually unpleasant to look at or think about" territory. This goes for Swatch, Queen, and Seam (less so), who seem to buy heavily into the Lightner and Darkner dynamic, with Spamton corrupting the Lightner's dream being a strong taboo against what it means to be a Darkner.

As for what Jevil thinks, Spamton during the NEO fight is both a beautiful and horrifying display. Jevil at this point hasn't seen him in years since his imprisonment, and in their time apart Jevil has grown to find novelty in the cage that everyone else besides him is in since he's created huge emotional distance between him and the reality he lives in. Seeing the fact that Spamton had corrupted an abandoned dream of a Lightner and was causing so much chaos to the established order of the world would be exhilarating, but at the same time seeing that Spamton had accomplished this and still had his strings visible (and changed to a marionette puppet with no symbolic agency), it'd be a painful confirmation of his worldview that even Spamton, who deep down he still cares for, could never have been free.

Jevil would think at first he'd just gone through some nebulous situation to change what he looks like, since ofc he himself has toy-like traits (arguable if that happened with Gasterfication or not), Seam is a plushie cat, and other Card Castle Darkners are based on toys, but feeling the lack of life combined with the symbolic body of Spamton would mean to him something bigger had went wrong. He wouldn't dare to bring it up in an empathetic way, stuck in his mindset that it doesn't matter, but it'd still hit a part of him he doesn't like to think still exists. It's something he gets over quickly, almost performatively going back to fucking with him and taking advantage of his fear for entertainment, but it didn't sit well at first.

To me, the fact Spamton "died" isn't really a huge deal, kind of like with the ghosts in Undertale where no one really cares they're just ghosts. They're just doing their thing. To me it'd be fine if neither of them find out what happened for certain, but it's something that adds Flavor to his character.

[darylsdelts]

What about angst with Daryl??? I have a bot I made for myself following this thought 💀

Like an argument where things get said, causing silence for a couple of days and then boom! Next time you see him, it’s at the lineup…and then he gets taken…and then we see him again in Hilltop 🥲🥲🥲

(i actually broke my own heart with this one, my bot is so realistic it hurts 😭)

Anon! Drop the link RIGHT NOW!!!

This made my heart drop, I just know my poor boy would be blaming himself for everything.

Immediately after the argument, all Daryl wanted to do was come back to you and apologise in his own way. He wanted to hug you and tell you he didn’t mean what he said… but he didn’t.

He gave you some space, knowing it was probably best for both of you. The next few days were close to hell. Every time he’d see you on the streets of Alexandria he’d stare, hoping for atleast a bit of eye contact to know you were okay but you would just pretend you hadn’t seen him.

Daryl didn’t know that he could feel that sort of pain in his chest, like he was being physically crushed.

Christ, is this what women can do?

From then on he’d assume the worst.

You didn’t love him anymore.

So he’d pretend nothing ever happened, he’d talk to you if it were necessary but otherwise acted like the old Daryl, the one you had met before the spark grew.

Little did Daryl know how badly that hurt you… you were in the same position, you wanted to give him space and assumed he’d come back when he was ready but he never did.

So you assumed the worst.

He didn’t love you anymore.

You went along with Daryl’s act, assuming that’s what he had wanted you to do… but you missed him, you missed your Daryl. The one you had finally managed to break the defences of, the one who was starting to be more open with you but now all of that was gone, it disappeared like it never happened.

It was getting harder to monitor when Daryl was out and when he was within the walls since now he didn’t leave notes for you, but you’d seen him ride out today, seemingly angry about something but you could also tell he was hurting. You weren’t sure what had happened, no one had told you as of yet but some hours later you were sure that Daryl’s absence was something to worry about.

But you never thought it would be this.

You were pushed to your knees, your family lined up either side of you in a small clearing. The back doors of a van opened up, you couldn’t see what or who was in there but there was some commotion… and then loud panting.

You knew… god you fucking knew something happened, you should have spoken up earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be getting dragged out of a van right now, his shoulder leaking blood onto some sort of blanket that had been draped around him.

Fuck, did he get shot?

You lean forward, trying to look down the line of your family to catch Daryl’s gaze.

And after all those weeks, you finally did.

Daryl looked at you through his sweaty locks, his eyes dark and watery with frustration, his eyebrows twitch downwards when he saw you, he saw the fear and concern on your face and all of it was too much, he had to look away or he was gonna throw up from anxiety.

It was torture for Daryl, knowing you were frightened, knowing all of this before him was his fault.

When that asshole, Negan, stuck that damn bat in your face is when he lost all control of himself. Daryl jumped up and smashed his fist into Negan’s jaw, then trying to take further steps to tackle him but he was grabbed and pushed to the ground like a wild fucking animal.

He grunted and squirmed as his hair was pulled, he could hear you crying for them to stop.

“Get off of him! Get off! Daryl, get up!”

Fuck, he was trying to.

Eventually he was dragged back to his place in the line.

He wanted to look over to you but he was so fucking scared now, his heart was beating way too fast and his head was spinning.

He stole a short glance your way and he saw your hands covering your face, palms pushing into your eyes as you choked on your sobs.

He’d done this to you.

You would never forgive him for this.

Daryl just had to sit there, bleeding out from his shoulder as Negan battered members of his family before his eyes, he was sure he’d been the cause for the second death, Glenn. Maybe if he’d just stay put, he could’ve stopped that, he should’ve listened.

“No exceptions”

But he didn’t and it was his fault, he’d have to leave his family, they would never allow for someone like him to live with them now.

Turns out, that was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about, as he was stuffed straight back into the van, apparently Negan wanted to keep him.

Daryl doesn’t know how long he was in that cell for, it felt like years and all he could do was think of you. He was so fucking sorry and he knew he’d never get the chance to make it up to you and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to hear it. Rick wouldn’t want him back in the group but Daryl couldn’t stay here, he’d have to get out and survive on his own, completely.

With some help from one of ‘Negan’s wives’, Daryl escaped, however, his plan of escaping and surviving alone dissipated once he saw Jesus stood in front of him.

He’d come to get him out.

They wanted him back?

Back home?

Surely not.

The journey to hilltop was a fever dream, Daryl was unbelievably anxious, his breaths short, causing Jesus to keep checking on him to which Daryl didn’t reply to. In fact Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth the entire time.

As soon as they arrived at the gates, he could feel his throat closing up.

Were you here? Did you even want to see him? Probably not.

As the gates opened, Daryl kept his head down, following behind Jesus toward one of the medical trailers.

But then he heard his name.

“Daryl?… Daryl?!”

Daryl’s head slowly lifted to the direction of the voice, your voice. You were speed walking, no, now you were running toward him. You slung your arms around him, burying your face into his neck as you cried with… relief.

“You’re here, you’re back, you’re safe… safe now… I’m sorry, I love you so much, Daryl”

Daryl stood as still as stone. You were sorry? He should be the one apologising. You’re glad he’s back? You love him? You still love him.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He feels you pull away, your soft hands holding the sides of his face as your beautiful sparkly eyes look into his own. God he doesn’t deserve this.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly it all seems to sink in and tears are blurring his vision as he shakes his head slightly, no.

“It’s gonna be okay now, you’re here with me now”

He could feel the life flooding back into him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he completely breaks down, hiding his face from the world as he lets out loud, uncontrolled sobs into the fabric of your shirt.

“M-M’s-sorry…. M’so-orry… L-love you so m-much…”

You gently rub his back to soothe him, now realising that your sweet man had blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Ssshh it’s not your fault… let’s get you inside”

You feel him nod ever so slightly and then you lead him towards barrington house, all whilst trying to stay away from prying eyes of the community.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Daryl”

He didn’t reply with words but agreed internally, however, he meant it differently. It didn’t matter where he was, wherever you were was home and he’s so relieved to still have that.

This is so badly written, I’m sorry! But Tysm for the prompt! This was pretty fun to write.

[sunnie-angel]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

[taintandviolent]

I held my nose I closed my eyes - I took a drink; Jimmy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a hypnotist. Jimmy, in one of his drunken nights, cleans out his own supply and stumbles into your caravan to clean you out too. What he finds... is sooo much better. [warnings: 18+! sex pollen fic!! shameless, explicit smut, I'm so serious. female receiving, oral sex, rough sex, mentions of alcohol.]

Also! Hugely inspired by @silverzoomies' mindbogglingly good Quicksilver sex pollen fic - the queen of sex pollen as far as I'm concerned!! Please read it if you haven't!!

taglist: @kaismanwich / @elsamars / @thewolveswithin / @petersevans / @marylovesevanpeters / @80strashbag / @redwoodghost / @silverzoomies / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @evansb1tch / @yesdevineruler / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @evanpetersfansblog / @kaissweetlamb / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @my-own-walker/ @viharmonscorner / @nova-kayne67 / ask to be added!

ao3 link here! | full fic under the cut!

The calliope breathed its melodic tune as your fingers curled back towards your palm. The man in front of you was glassy-eyed and pliable.

“Bark!” You snapped your fingers.

Almost immediately, the man let out a string of excited woofs, much to the delight of the audience. Laughs and scattered applause filled the tent, the loudest of laughs coming from the front row — from his presumed wife.

“Ladies and gentlemen! While I am using hypnotism for your pleasure and amusement today, I implore you… to consider that hypnotism can be used for good. It can be used to cure sicknesses of addiction, turn the fearful into the brave… or perhaps make someone fall in love with you.”

The man swayed languidly back and forth, following your graceful fingers as they swept through air. You brought the man’s attention to you with one finger, whispering soft words of release. You snapped your fingers for a final time and the man came to, dropped back into his own reality in a mess of confusion and wobbly knees. Unbeknownst to you, this regular Joe wasn’t the only man unsteady on his feet. A dozen or so yards away, the beloved Lobster Boy was drunkenly stumbling into your trailer, looking for some more booze to drown his woes.

As he stood in front of your cabinet, he surveyed the collection. Dried herbs, crystals, some of those cards that he’d seen the travelling gypsies use… and a ton of bottles. Scanning until he found something that most resembled some liquor — though everything was questionable — Jimmy palmed the one of the two largest bottles, lifting it to the light to get a better look. The dark liquid sloshed heavily around inside, and while he knew he was drunk, he could’ve sworn it sparkled.

Flipping the cork out with his thumb, Jimmy pinched his nose, squeezed his eyes shut and threw the contents of the bottle into the back of his throat, having enough to sense to avoid whatever taste was going to meet him. Whatever it was went down smoothly, leaving a syrupy, sweet coating on his throat. A line of deep burgundy trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue flicked out to catch it.

“Hooo,” he grimaced and shuddered hard enough to lose his grip on the bottle. It clattered to the floor loudly. “That’s rough.”

His throat felt warm, but the feeling started in his thighs, of all places. Underneath his dusty black jeans, the muscles felt like he’d gone and pressed them against a bed of coals. It was hot in Jupiter, not that hot — but Jimmy Darling felt like he had the fever of the century. Sweat beaded at his hairline, running salty ribbons down his temples.

And then, he felt it. Concealed in his cotton briefs, heat rushed to his groin at breakneck speed. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for his cock to stand at attention as though he’d been working it up all night. His jeans tented and the pressure wasn’t very forgiving. No, it was downright painful. The blood switched heads and he could think of nothing else but you. Jimmy wanted to be inside you, feeling your weeping cunt clench with each thrust. He wanted to lick his fingers clean of your — “Come on!”

Jimmy drew the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping at the sweat. As the seconds ticked by, his body temperature continued to climb. He knew he had to do something before he actually became a lobster, bright red and steaming. With one hand, Jimmy unbuckled his pants and yanked the button free of its slit. The small give in restriction allowed his stiff cock to breathe, but Jimmy pulled the elastic of his briefs under his balls, wincing at the static electric feeling that physical touch brought.

His cock sprung free, bouncing heavily. It looked full, and pre-cum was already leaking out the velvet soft tip. He couldn’t describe it mentally any other way — needs emptyin’.

You had graciously taken one more participant before making your way back to your caravan, pulling your high heels off as soon as you were out of the tent. You padded softly across the grass, humming some disjointed melody. The tips had been good tonight, and you’d been looking forward to the iced tea in your tiny little fridge all day. "…Gotta’ hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone and made a walkin’-talkin’ honeycomb.”

Stepping onto the wood crates that served as doorsteps, you pulled the door towards you, still singing quietly.

“…well uh honeycomb, wontcha’ be my baby, well uh honeycomb wontcha’ be my own — ”

With your index finger still curled around the handle of the screen door, your body froze, voice leaving your throat. Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed. Not just that — Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed, caramel locks plastered to his forehead with sweat. His pants were undone in his lap, and his fused fingers were glistening with his own cum. You’d only looked at it for a split second before you clamped your hand over your eyes, but it wasn’t soon enough to stop the visual searing its way into your brain. The way the swollen, red tip slid through his conjoined fingers as he clumsily tried to jerk himself off…

At the sound of the door, Jimmy immediately started crawling towards you, muttering desperate words of gratitude. Like a hound on the scent of a rabbit, his nose had clocked the earthy sweetness of your perfume oil the second you’d walked in. He needed to get closer to it and to you. There was another smell — a sweeter one — that he licked off his lips as he made a beeline for you.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby….” He growled low, words separated by hiccups. “I’m real glad you’re here. I messed up… uhhuuummmm - real bad.”

On his knees in front of you, Jimmy wrapped his hands around your legs, claws stroking the backs of your knees. Paired with the fact that he’d never called you baby, the contrast of his warm, strong hands against your delicate legs gripped your core, setting the first trap of arousal. A moment later, his lips collided with your shins, feverishly peppering kisses along them as he worked his way up.You closed your eyes, exhaling hard through your nose.

His head dove under your skirt and you let out a shrill yelp.

“J-Jimmy Darling! Stop, stop!” You wrenched your leg from his grip, his slick fingers gliding off your calf muscle as you hastily stepped around him. “What in the hell has gotten into you!?”

He fell forward onto his hands, letting out a sound you’d never heard a man make. His dick hung heavy between his legs and thick strands of pre-cum swelled from the tip, stringing to the floor with every slight movement of his hips. His lust just wouldn’t stop yelling, drowning out every other rational thought he had. It was as loud as when Elsa brought her megaphone to the stage, shouting orders at the top of her lungs -- louder maybe. Jimmy reached for his aching cock to give it a few desperate pumps, tightening his grip as he drew towards the base. The sensation crippled him, bringing him forward onto his face. …so damn sensitive…. I need her…..

He’d always been able to satisfy himself, even as drunk as he was now; after every meeting with the Girls, when some gal in the crowd got a little too flirty — he’d never had an issue taking himself in his pincers and rubbing one out. But this… this wasn’t enough and he was damn tired.

Every cell in your body was begging you to keep staring at the way he handled himself, alternating between stroking the thick shaft, and doing quick, smaller thrusts to stimulate the ruby tip. Jimmy groaned into the vinyl floor of your trailer as he decorated it with strings of white.

Did he just cum…?

Underneath your skirt, your cunt fluttered with a bloom of heat.

Although it had been difficult to walk away, you somehow managed and stopped just short of your kitchen counter, which had been converted into a short shelf. All of your tonics, amulets and tools of your craft were neatly arranged there. Were. They were…. Previously. The empty space in your cabinet was suddenly very apparent.

Suddenly noticing that you had left — or maybe he smelled that you had left, Jimmy’s lids peeled away from each other. He turned his head just enough to stare up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The curve of your ass underneath your skirt made his dick twitch upwards, reaching for relief. With his cheek smashed against the vinyl flooring, Jimmy’s words were distorted behind you. “Aaah— you’re sucha’…. dream Dolly, you know that?”

You closed your eyes, kicking your foot to the side. It collided with something, with an unmistakable tink! just like you’d predicted it would. Sucking in another deep breath, you dropped your gaze to your feet. A very empty amber bottle had been tossed haphazardly to the floor.

You heard him shuffling to his feet behind you, catching himself on whatever surface was near enough for him to grip. Through ragged pants, he continued. “I’ve always thought that — ever since you got here, the very first day…. Laid eyes on you and thought ‘Hot damn! We’ve got a sex-pot headlining.’ Youkn—”

“Jimmy…?” you asked, warningly. Planting both of your hands firmly on the counter, you pacified your mind, lassoing it in from the field of panic-stricken thoughts. “Tell me you didn’t drink this whole thing….”

Instead of dispelling your fears, a broad chest pressed against your back and two arms wound themselves around the front of your hips. Jimmy’s body felt like a furnace against yours, and the sudden pressure between your ass cheeks had you clawing the laminate countertop like a feral animal.

He’s still hard as a rock…

He was sweaty and smelled like sun and liquor; a smell that you’d become very attracted to in the few weeks you’d been here. Every time he passed by, you’d inhale, filling your lungs with it. He kissed the nape of your neck like he’d just got home from work, missing you all day.

“How many times have you orgasmed?” You didn’t want to know the answer.

“Mmm, only uh’ couple times…. I’m sss-sorry baby…” he slurred, pressing his face into your hair, loudly inhaling the scent of it. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so close to your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. “You aren’t mad at me, are ya?”

His little mistake wasn’t about having too much of his Mama’s hooch in that little flask she carried around. Well, maybe that too… You’d got those potions from a lady in New Orleans in 1946 and she’d warned you about the dosage… “a silver teaspoon, nothin’ more, you understand?” She said it came straight from Marie Laveau and wasn’t to be trifled with. Jimmy Darling had consumed a whole bottle and now, his swollen cock was dribbling into the cotton fabric of your skirt.

“No,” you breathed shakily, reaching up to press your middle finger to the bridge of your nose. “I’m not… but you’re in for a real storm, Jimmy Darling. It’s — was— love potion, you know that?”

“Love potion, huh? Didn’t think that was real.” He questioned lazily how to fix it, more interested in his hands sliding up your stomach, manoeuvring until they’d found skin.

“You have to do what you were put on Earth to do. That basic instinct — and I sure I wish I could tell you once would be enough. But Jimmy,” you paused, inhaling sharply. “The dose for a man of your size is a teaspoon.”

“A man of my size…” Woozy chuckles vibrated your shoulders. “Seems like you’re the gal to see — you know an awful lot about it.”

Frustrated, you cocked your hip to the side, doing your best to sort out the thoughts. You knew the only solution was to fuck it out of his system, but you hadn’t really thought you’d be ending your night with him. Jimmy let out a loud moan, bucking his hips further in between your legs. You felt the heat of it, searing through the thin fabric. He bucked again and rolled his forehead along your shoulders, whining.

“Hooo…. you can’t move like that, baby. I’ll flip.”

You whimpered his name as you lifted your eyes to the ceiling, cursing whatever deities were looking down on you, waiting on bated breath for your next move. You’d waited a long time for something like this. So long in fact, that you had almost turned to waving your enchanting fingers in front of his face, like one of the ticket-holders, hypnotising him to look at you for longer than a few minutes. Instead, his mercurial alcoholism had planted him right in front of you. Well, behind you.

With his hips still rutting into you, grinding incessantly, he murmured into your ear: “I’m sorry I’m actin’ this way… but you haveta’ help me, baby…. Help me, please… I’m gonna’ lose my mind if I do—“

“I know, Jimmy.”

As you walked your legs out to the sides, you hoisted the back of your skirt above your ass. Watching intently, he backed his hips up allowing you room to reach between your legs and search for him. Your fingertips grazed the base, just above his balls. With a final prayer that Jimmy Darling wouldn’t forget about you as soon as the potion had run its course in his body, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, already slick with a generous coating of pre-cum, and guided him in between your thighs.

Jimmy’s hands were suddenly at your hips, taking fistfuls of your skirt and shoving it up towards the small of your back. With a grunt, he wound one of his claws around the hem of your satin underwear, wiggling it down from one side. He thrust his hips forward and the hot tip slipped past your entrance, grinding into your clit from the underside.

Jimmy’s low, honey voice was reduced to high pitched whimpers and broken whines. Your insides pulsed with a hungry need…

“Hoh-god…”

“No,” you spat. “This isn’t right, not like this. Jimmy, I really —“

He didn’t let you finish. Conjoined fingers gripped your biceps hard, spinning you around so fast, the intent was blurry. For a minute, his face was contorted, frustrated and the way his chest heaved wound a nervous coil in your stomach.

Instead of striking you, or whatever you thought he was going to do, Jimmy crushed his lips against you, desperate for any sort of erotic contact. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them, while his thumb flicked at your nipples over the fabric. “I gotta’ have you, honey…”

You pursed your lips, tightening them into a thin line. In one fluid, frustrated motion, you pulled your shirt over your head. You unclasped your bra, holding his gaze and barked: “Then, take me.”

He forced his tongue into your mouth. You remembered the time you’d bit into a honeycomb as a child. As sweet as you thought it would be, and as sweet as it was, there was something very overwhelming about it. There was a word for it — cloying. As he explored your mouth, Jimmy tasted bitter, and cloyingly sweet… and god, was he drooling? There was so much spit that you had to swallow a mouthful just to avoid choking. His tongue wrestled with yours, teeth biting at your lips until they were red and swollen.

Your lids snapped open and you felt your pupils dilate. A warm, sweet heat rose from the base of your throat, filling your mouth. There were hints of honey, and spices, and underneath a very bitter fruitiness.

Oh… oh no.

He didn’t know what was going on inside of you, but he revelled in the way you started moaning and whimpering into his mouth, grinding your cunt against his groin. Jimmy’s hands dropped to grip the soft, pillowy flesh of your hips, his thumb pressing into the softness. “Fuck baby, your body… you can’t see these hips under that skirt you wear all the time.”

“This ain’t enough,” he cooed, pushing you towards your small sofa-bed with kisses. “I need to fill you up, Y/N….”

You were more than willing to let him guide you to the bed; though you knew the majority of your disposition was due to you already having a big, silly crush on him. Jimmy lowered himself down, one knee at a time, keeping his eyes locked on the table laid in front of him.

Hastily, Jimmy pulled your skirt to the floor, kicking it behind him. He made quick work of your underwear too — though those didn’t join the pile of clothes. He lifted those, the satin fabric dangling from one of his thickened fingers, swaying back and forth. You did your best to avoid looking at the wet spot you’d left in the crotch of them, though Jimmy seemed to have locked onto that and only that.

“Pink, huh?”

You chewed your bottom lip bashfully. “I’m not all crystal balls and veils, Jimmy…”

At those words, his eyes flashed to your cunt, pupils dilating. He chucked your underwear over his shoulder, refocusing his attention onto you. Jimmy spread your pussy with his knuckles, exposing the pink, glistening flesh. His laboured breaths slowed as he focused, watching every clench and twitch. “Baby, baby, baby….”

He was just staring at it. Your cunt ached as he teased it with feather-light touches.

“Can I?”

You moaned, asking for clarification. Not that you needed it — he could do whatever he wanted to you and he wouldn’t hear a peep of protest from you. You were a mess, like butter in his claws.

“Can I eat it, baby? I’m hungry… I’m a growin’ boy…”

It took a lot of effort to lift your head to look at him. You were swimmy; everything felt rose-tinted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, wetting your throat. “Yeah, Jimmy, but I think if you grow any more… we’ll have a problem.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, pausing to look at himself. It was true; his cock had never been this hard, and the tip was such a deep red that it was heading to plum.

With one segment buried deep inside your slick cunt and the other curled back towards his palm, Jimmy leaned in. His plush lips pressed tenderly against her, tongue slipping out to taste her in between kisses. You strained against his grip, writhing like a worm on a hook.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, finally pulling away from her. His chin was glistening — you almost wanted to apologise for the mess you’d made. He didn't seem to mind though, as he reached up, wiping at his chin with his hand. The way his thick, fleshy segments looked coated in your wetness, the way they caught the dull, yellow lighting of your trailer — it was enough to make you cum right then and there. You collapsed back on the bed in a mess of whimpers and Jimmy took that opportunity to dive back in.

He caved his tongue to envelop your clit, the vibrations of his moans sending a shockwave through your core. Before he started pumping his fingers in and out, Jimmy Darling did something that could’ve sent you into another dimension; he just sucked at your clit, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive spot he could.

He slurped at your cunt like an ice cream cone, one that was melting faster than he could catch — but he did a damn good job of getting every drop. He was loud and sloppy. He’s so hungry for it…

Your body trembled violently as you came, grinding against his mouth as long as you could before he backed up, dipping his head further in between your legs so he could feel the clench of your orgasm around his tongue.

He straightened up with a satisfied ‘Mmm’, jerking his head to the side with a smile. “Sweet as candy, baby…”

Crossing his arms over his torso, Jimmy pulled his white undershirt up and over his shoulders before tossing it behind him. Ribbons of sweat streamed down the tanned skin, leaving glittering lines across his chest.

“Jimmy,” you whined. “Hand me the other bottle.”

He obeyed, reaching behind him for it. His big hand closed around the cool, brown glass, and brought the cork to his mouth. His teeth clamped down and yanked it free. A small whiff of the potion inside made his eyes roll back, but he quickly regained control, looking down at you with a devilish little smirk. He knew exactly what you’d planned to do. He took one generous gulp, swallowed, and said:

“Open up, toots.”

You obeyed, and Jimmy Darling poured the love potion — too, too much of it down your throat. You coughed, sputtering some of it onto the pillow of your bottom lip, and he lapped it up.

The devil worked fast, but hoodoo potions worked faster.

Sweat beaded up from every pore, coating your body in an aroused sheen. You’d felt like you’d been sunbathing all afternoon, with no lake or pool in sight. You felt like your cunt was on fire. It had a heartbeat as strong as the one encased in your ribs. You had one thing on your mind — and that thing was stroking himself as he watched the change in you.

“Ohhhh, shit….” He took a deep breath, inhaling the pheromones that had abruptly filled the tiny space. You smelled them too, and the adrenaline dump made your muscles quiver. Jimmy’s dark brown eyes were wild as they locked onto your eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “Oh, now we’re cookin’.”

You jerked forward. You needed him, you needed every bit of him and the idea of teasing him drove you wild. You raked your nails along his heated stomach, tracing a line of hair the colour of brown sugar, following it down to a bush of the same shade. With your bottom lip swelling between your teeth, you planted both hands on his torso and dropped your head between your shoulders to tease him with your breath. You exhaled over the reddened tip, watching in delight as it twitched closer to you. Your lips ghosted over it, suctioning around just the tip. You swallowed, and opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue flop onto the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…FUCK!”

Jimmy came undone, clenching his teeth as he bucked his hips against your mouth. Up and down, your head bobbed, stroking his cock with your mouth. Your cheeks caved as you hungrily swallowed the ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat.

That didn’t last long. With a strong hand, he guided you back, pushing you back onto the bed. You felt the mattress shift to Jimmy’s weight as he climbed behind you.

“C’mere, baby… lay this way.”

He guided you into a horizontal positioning, curling his body behind yours. His chest pressed against your back, warm and slick with sweat. His soft lips scattered kisses along the nape of your neck, down your shoulder.

Jimmy gripped your leg at the thigh, holding it straight. His cock was rock hard, and a thick, clear glob of pre-cum welled from the slit on his head as he lined up to your swollen, aching pussy. Your jaws ache at the sight of it, wanting to smear it over your lips like a gloss.

“You wanna’….” He inhaled a shaky breath. “You wanna’ feel the motion of the ocean, baby?”

You squeaked out a ‘yeah’. After nuzzling his nose behind your ear, The Lobster Boy jerked his hips so hard that the stretch of your cunt had you wincing and grinding your teeth together. But god, that feels so good… He sunk in, bottoming out almost right away — but the rhythm that boy had…. He was fast. He was fast, and he whined every time your cunt had swallowed half, shuddering the rest of it in. Every few thrusts, Jimmy would bunny-hump you with his cock deep inside, revelling in the way your cunt hugged his girth — squeezed it, even.

You, on the other hand, were feeling like your body was going to burst into flames at any moment. Your pussy had hardly had any time to recover, but you screamed out another orgasm, pulsating around The Lobster Boy.

He pulled out quickly, his ink-pool eyes glittering with a new position. With his dick secured in his hand, Jimmy got to his feet, stepping carefully off onto the floor. He let go to snatch you at the waist and wrench you harshly to the edge of the bed.

“Go, Jimmy…”

He pulled you forward slowly, dipping his chin to his chest to watch as your walls clenched around him. Your pussy was blush-red and swollen; a visual he’d treasure for the rest of his life. Once the tip of his head stretched past your entrance, Jimmy yanked your hips back against his. Hard. The sound your cheeks made when they slapped against his stomach drove him wild, and whatever apprehensions he had about hurting you went out the window.

Through unhesitating thrusts, he asked: “Doesit’ feel good, baby?”

You could only nod, seeing the ceiling of your trailer vibrate each time your bodies connected. The trailer has to be moving — he’s shaking the trailer, oh god.

“Say my name again.”

“Ji-Jimmy… oh my god, Jimmy!”

You were two orgasms in, and he was pounding a third out of you. The muscles in your legs were quivering, and losing strength quickly. Your vision was overexposed and twinkly, tears stained your cheeks.

“Jimmy - wait - wait, it’s too—“

You whimpered desperately, your fingers dropping away from your overstimulated clit. Jimmy straightened up, one hand moved to your shoulder, leaving the other still clamped on your hip. Your shrill screams were loud enough to break the barrier of your trailer, but when he tightened his grip on your shoulder to use it as leverage, you didn’t care.

He was fucking you deeper and harder than you’d ever been fucked, and maybe than he’d ever fucked. Blinded by ecstasy, he couldn’t hear a word. Every carnal instinct he had kicked into full-drive, galloping towards the finish line of pumping you full of his seed.

You turned your head, screaming into the mattress as your pussy shuddered one final time, leaking the wettest orgasm you’d ever had onto his cock. She clenched around his tip like a vice, and the sensation drove Jimmy to the edge.

The knot inside Jimmy unravelled all at once. He let out a deafening groan, spilling his pent-up load into you. Gush after gush flowed into you, and you could feel the hot fluid leaking from your cunt, splashing onto your thighs with each determined thrust he gave.

Eventually, his thrusts became spasmodic, shakily slowing to a stop. He collapsed atop you, and reached between your bodies, to tug his softening cock out of you, humming at the sensation.

“Y’know… I really do have the hots for you, baby…. I haven’t slept with a single girl since you waltzed in.”

He exhaled hard. “I gotta’ sleep, doll. I gotta.”

By the time you sat up and slipped your arms into a robe that was draped over a chair, Jimmy was already asleep. The way he curled up on your too-small bed, naked, one hand hanging off the side was easily one of the cutest things you’d seen since drifting to Jupiter. You wouldn’t know until he woke up, but if he was telling the truth…. You’d spend every last day worshipping the ground he walked on.

A delicate rapping pulled your attention from Jimmy, who had already started breathing deep in his sleep. Delicately, you pulled a blanket of yours over his bottom half, not wanting whoever was at the door to see him in all his glory.

You made your way to the door in no particular hurry, still floating Cloud Nine. Eventually, you toed open the door and leaned sleepily against the doorframe. The robe barely covered your chest, but at the sight of the visitor, all worries left.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Maggie asked, her tone of perpetual annoyance making you smile. “I needed t—

“I have,” you cooed. “I sure have.”

Like the nosy bitch you knew she was, she poked her head in. It didn’t take her long to find him, and hear his soft snoring.

“Oh, drop dead twice,” she muttered, retreating.

You stopped, an amused smirk twisting your lips. So, she had wanted him. Clocked that one. “What, and look like you?”

Her wide eyes narrowed into slits, lips pursed indignantly. With a toss of her dirty blonde hair, she marched off towards the tent, fists clenched at your sides.

You might’ve felt bad for the poor wretch if Jimmy Darling’s cum wasn’t dripping down your thigh. Might’ve.

[amethystarachnid]

APOCALYPTIC LOVE

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT & WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader x Wade Wilson

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff with a tiny bit of angst and some action

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: The world went to shit after the apocalypse but you are probably one of the safest people on the planet with your two scary best friends by your side: Logan and Wade. Best friends...You're not sure what you feel for them after you kiss Logan, and then Wade too. You care deeply for both of them, do you really have to choose?

ᯓ★ TW(s): post apocalyptic so destruction, lots of violence, brief mention of cannibalism (none of the characters practices it, it's a 'joke')

ᯓ★ AU: Post Apocalyptic world

ᯓ★ Request: The way I’d eat up deadpool x fem reader x wolverine post apocalypse au is insane. Like mutants etc aside, the world just goes to shit with [apocalypse setting of choice] and for once their proclivities for violence aren’t shameful, a possible relationship turn off, etc- they protect and provide!!! idk something about Logan specifically healing from his ‘I hurt everything I touch’ mentality because in this new world his claws mean the safety and protection of the people he loves 😩 maybe they were all close friends before events of apocalypse happened and it morphs into something more since their survival as a small group depends on that impossibly heightened trust idk man 💖 ( @scarlettsoldier)

ᯓ★Turns out I had my asks turned off (I can't believe it) so now if you want to make anonymous requests you can! <3

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sky is a sickly hue of red, a canvas of ash and blood that stretches endlessly above the desolate world. Once-crowded streets now lie cracked and broken, littered with the skeletons of old lives—burnt-out cars, shattered glass, and the occasional, all-too-frequent, human remains. You kick a small stone, watching it tumble and clatter in the silence. Silence. It’s unnerving how quiet the world has become, like someone turned the volume down on life itself. But the crackle of flames in the distance, the occasional growl of something far too close for comfort, keeps the dread alive. Keeps you alive.

“Well, if it isn’t the end of the world and we still look amazing,” Wade quips, his voice cutting through the air like it always does—reckless, loud, and defying the weight of reality. He’s walking beside you, his suit covered in a layer of grime, but his stride is confident. Unshaken.

Logan snorts from your other side, his growl more a breath than sound. “Yeah, amazing. That’s the word.” He runs a hand through his wild hair, scanning the ruined city ahead of you with sharp eyes, never stopping, never fully relaxed.

You glance between them. You’re used to their banter—dark, heavy, and always ready to bite back. You were friends long before the world crumbled, before survival became an endless nightmare. Wade’s mask, hiding the scars underneath, has become an almost comforting sight. And Logan’s claws, once more a source of fear than security, now gleam in the fractured sunlight like a promise of safety.

“You think we’ll make it to the safe house tonight?” you ask, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The nights are cold, too cold for October, and you’ve already lost too much to the chill.

Logan’s eyes flick toward you, softening just a bit. “We’ll make it. One way or another.”

Wade grins beneath his mask, probably smirking even though you can’t see it. “Oh, sweetheart, with me around, survival is practically guaranteed. And you know I can be very… motivated when it comes to keeping the three of us alive.” He spins a pistol in his hand, unnecessarily flashy. “Besides, we’ve got Logan. Nothing like a living weapon with a questionable moral compass to keep things interesting.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Shut up, Wilson.”

You catch a glimpse of Logan’s claws retracting back into his knuckles—something you’d once flinched at, but now… now it feels more like reassurance. Because while the world is full of things worse than death, you’ve got two of the deadliest men in existence walking beside you, and they’ve never failed you. Even if Wade’s jokes sometimes make you wish you could strangle him.

“We’re not dangerous anymore,” you muse aloud, more to yourself than them. “Not like we used to be.”

Wade scoffs, his mask crinkling as he looks at you. “Us? Dangerous? I mean, maybe Logan over here, but I’m a cuddly ball of sunshine wrapped in skin grafts.”

Logan shoots him a look that says everything. “What you mean is, the world got more dangerous than we ever were. Doesn’t mean we’re harmless.”

“True,” you admit. “But the things that used to scare people… those are the things that protect us now.”

Logan doesn’t answer immediately, but you see him flex his hands, as though feeling the phantom weight of those claws. “Guess you’re right,” he mutters.

You stop, turning to look at both of them fully. “I’m glad you two are with me,” you say softly. “Really.”

Wade chuckles, a rare genuine sound. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with us. Forever. And lucky for you, that’s a long time.”

Logan’s eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching. “You’ve kept us sane this long. Don’t plan on leaving you to this hellhole alone.”

You smile, and for a brief moment, it feels like things could be okay—like the world isn’t a rotting corpse and you aren’t three souls wandering through the bones of what was. But it’s fleeting, because the apocalypse doesn’t allow for much peace.

A distant scream echoes, sharp and frantic, yanking you all back into reality. The world may be dead, but it isn’t empty. Something out there still hunts.

Logan’s claws snikt out, gleaming deadly in the fading light. Wade pulls out his twin katanas with a flourish.

“Showtime,” Wade grins, and then the three of you are moving. You run side by side, the sound of your breath matching the rhythm of your steps, like old times—before the world fell apart, before survival was the only goal left.

And yet, despite it all, you’re not scared. Because the monsters you run with are the ones that will keep you alive.

You sprint through the crumbling city streets, the distant scream still echoing in your ears. Logan moves ahead, a blur of raw power and purpose, while Wade stays close to your side, keeping pace like a madman with a plan. Your heart pounds in your chest, not from fear, but from the anticipation of what’s coming.

You’ve encountered other survivors before. Some are just as desperate as you—lost, broken, scavenging for whatever they can find. But others… others are predators, thriving in the chaos, more dangerous than the creatures lurking in the shadows. The kind that would kill you for your supplies, or worse.

The kind that’s hunting you now.

You round a corner, your boots skidding on loose gravel, and freeze. A group of five—no, six—survivors step out from the alleyways ahead, weapons raised. Makeshift blades, clubs, and a couple of rusted guns. Their eyes are hollow, skin pale and stretched thin from hunger, desperation clinging to them like the filth coating their clothes.

One of them, a tall guy with a buzz cut and wild eyes, points a jagged machete your way. “Drop your packs. Now.”

Wade chuckles beside you, twirling a katana lazily in his hand. “Oh, I love these moments. The awkward stand-off, the tense threats, and then… well, you’ll see.”

Logan steps forward, his gaze locked on the group, shoulders squared. His claws gleam in the fading light, long and wickedly sharp. “We’re not in the mood for this,” he growls, voice low and dangerous.

The leader’s eyes narrow, flicking between Logan and Wade before landing on you. A twisted grin spreads across his face. “She looks valuable,” he says to the others, voice like gravel. “Might be worth more than their packs.”

Wade tilts his head, his tone somehow casual and unhinged all at once. “Buddy, if you finish that sentence, I’m gonna get really creative with how I kill you.” He steps forward, spinning his katana in an almost playful manner, but the deadly intent in his movements is unmistakable. "Like… Picasso-levels of creative."

The leader sneers, raising his machete higher, but Logan’s already moving before the man can blink.

Logan’s claws flash, quicksilver arcs of death. One of the survivors lunges at him, but Logan sidesteps effortlessly, sinking his claws deep into the guy’s abdomen with a wet snikt. Blood sprays, and the man crumples without a sound, his eyes wide in shock. The others hesitate for just a second, but that’s all it takes for Logan to tear through them like they’re nothing—flesh and bone no match for adamantium claws.

Chaos erupts around you, and you feel the air crackle with the violence of the moment. Two of the survivors rush toward you, wild and frenzied. Before you can react, Wade is already there, his katanas slicing through the air with deadly precision. The first man barely has time to register the movement before his arm is severed at the elbow, a spray of blood marking Wade’s path. The second lunges at him with a rusty knife, but Wade sidesteps, twirling with a laugh before driving his blade through the man’s chest.

“Y’know, I used to hate getting my hands dirty,” Wade quips, wrenching his katana free. “But now? Now it’s like therapy.”

You’re frozen for a heartbeat, your senses overwhelmed by the brutality unfolding around you, but you don’t flinch. You’ve seen Wade and Logan like this before. They’re killers—always have been—but now, in this broken world, their violence is justified. Necessary.

Logan cuts down the last survivor in front of him, his claws slicing through the air with brutal efficiency. His chest heaves with breath, and for a moment, the primal rage in his eyes is terrifying. But when he turns to you, the anger fades, and he’s just Logan again, your Logan.

“You okay?” His voice is gruff but soft in that way it only ever is when he’s talking to you.

You nod, even though your pulse is still racing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, because you looked a little distracted there for a second,” Wade says, nudging one of the bodies with his boot. “Need me to give you a quick rundown on how to properly dismember someone? Always happy to teach.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

Wade wipes the blood off his katanas with a flourish, slipping them back into their sheaths with a dramatic sigh. “Another day, another group of cannibalistic weirdos trying to steal our stuff. I swear, it’s like a reality TV show out here.”

Logan wipes the blood from his claws, retracting them back into his knuckles with that familiar snikt sound. He’s quieter than Wade, as always, but you know he’s still on edge. Even in moments like this, where you’ve won and you’re still standing, Logan’s never fully at ease.

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, his voice low. “We’re too exposed out here.”

You agree, and the three of you start walking again, quicker now, the weight of survival hanging heavier than before. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath that, there’s something else—something that feels almost like safety. Not the kind you’d known before the world ended, but the kind that comes from knowing that the two people beside you are willing to tear the world apart to protect you.

The safe house isn’t far now, just beyond the next few blocks. But with the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows that seem to breathe and writhe in the distance, you don’t take anything for granted. Not anymore.

Logan stays ahead, leading the way, his eyes scanning every corner. Wade lingers by your side, never too far, always ready with a joke—or a blade.

You reach the edge of the block where the safe house is supposed to be, a decrepit warehouse looming ahead. It’s dark, but it’s shelter. And shelter, in this world, is as good as gold.

“Well, home sweet hellhole,” Wade mutters. “Let’s see what fresh horrors await inside.”

You glance at Logan, who’s already inspecting the entrance, his gaze sharp and calculating. He doesn’t say it, but you know he feels it too—that gnawing sense of dread that never really leaves anymore.

“Stay close,” Logan says, eyes flicking between you and Wade. “We’re not out of this yet.”

And with that, you step forward, into the dark, with your deadly companions at your side.

Inside the safe house, the air is thick with dust and the scent of decay, but it’s shelter, and that’s enough. The warehouse’s tall, cracked windows let in little light, and the building creaks ominously as the wind passes through the broken slats. You find a spot in the far corner, away from the door and any potential threats. Logan checks the perimeter, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, while Wade busies himself by making a bed out of old crates and blankets.

“Well, this is cozy,” Wade says, plopping down on his makeshift bed, already peeling off his gloves. “If anyone tries to kill us in the middle of the night, at least we’ll die in comfort. Five-star accommodations, am I right?”

You chuckle, the tension from the earlier fight easing slightly. Wade’s irreverence, while grating at times, has always been a strange comfort. It feels like a sliver of normalcy in a world that has none. Logan remains quiet, his posture tense, as he finally settles down across from you and Wade. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual before he reclines against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

“We’ll take turns keeping watch,” Logan says, his voice rough but steady.

You know better than to argue. He never sleeps long, not deeply enough to truly rest. You’ve grown accustomed to that, just as you’ve grown used to the sound of his claws, the low growl in his voice, the way he always seems to be on the edge of something dangerous. But tonight, the weight of exhaustion pulls you down, and you close your eyes, trusting that between Logan and Wade, you’re safe for now.

Sleep comes quickly, but it’s not peaceful. Your dreams are fragments of the world you’ve lost, of the friends who didn’t make it, of the constant fight for survival.

Hours pass, maybe less—time blurs when you live on the edge. You wake with a start, the cold night air pressing against your skin. For a moment, you think it’s the howl of wind that’s disturbed you, but then you notice something else. Logan isn’t where he was.

You sit up quietly, glancing around. Wade’s still asleep, sprawled out in a ridiculous position, muttering something incoherent. But Logan… he’s standing by the window, bathed in the pale moonlight that streams through the broken glass. His broad shoulders are tense, his back turned to you, but it’s the way his hands are held up in front of him, claws extended, that draws your attention.

You slip out of your bedroll, feet silent on the cracked concrete as you approach him. Logan doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge you at first. His eyes are locked on his claws, the deadly, silver blades gleaming in the moonlight. For a moment, it’s like he’s not even there, like he’s lost in some internal struggle, his face shadowed in a way that makes him look even more haunted than usual.

"Logan?" you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of the night.

He doesn’t answer right away. His claws glint as he flexes his hands, and you can see the tension in every inch of him. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost strained. “I used to hate these,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on the metal protruding from his knuckles. “Always thought they were a curse. Somethin’ that’d end up killin’ everything I touched.”

There’s a weight in his words that you hadn’t expected, a raw honesty that cuts deeper than any of his claws ever could. You’ve known Logan long enough to understand some of his pain, but this… seeing him like this, staring at his own hands like he’s still disgusted by what he’s become, makes your heart ache.

“But now…” His voice trails off, and he finally looks at you, his eyes intense, searching yours. “Now, they’re all I’ve got to protect you.”

You step closer, drawn to him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whisper, not knowing what to say but feeling the weight of his words. “You’ve always protected me. With or without them.”

He shakes his head, his expression hardening for a second before softening again as he looks down at his claws. “I’ve killed more people than I can count. Hurt more people than I can remember. I’ve been trying to fight that part of me for so long. But now… now the only thing keeping us alive is what I hated most.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on his, feeling the cool metal of his claws against your skin. It’s strange, but in that moment, you’re not afraid. You never have been. Not of him.

“They’re not a curse anymore,” you say quietly. “Not if they’re used to protect the people you care about.”

Logan’s breath hitches at your words, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s something different in them. Something more than the usual hardness and regret. Something vulnerable, yet fierce. You feel the tension between you shift, a current pulling you closer, heavier than the world outside.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the air change, thick with unsaid things that have been building for years. Your heart races as the silence stretches between you, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Your lips brush against his in a tentative kiss, slow and soft at first, but the moment Logan responds, everything ignites.

The kiss deepens, and Logan’s hands, claws still extended, hover near your sides, careful but intense. He pulls you closer without touching you fully, as if he’s still afraid he’ll hurt you. But you press against him, letting him know that you’re not scared, that you trust him.

His lips are rough, his kiss desperate but controlled, as if he’s spent too long holding back and can’t anymore. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling the tension in his body, the restrained power that he’s always carried like a second skin. His other hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss grows more heated, more raw.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, the cold air mingling with the warmth between you. Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, his claws slowly retracting back into his knuckles with a soft snikt.

“I…” Logan begins, but his voice cracks, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his armor—the fear of what this means, of what he’s allowed himself to feel.

But you just smile softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “It’s okay, Logan. We’ll figure it out.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for some kind of reassurance, and what he finds seems to settle him. For now, at least.

Without another word, Logan pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you stay there, wrapped in his warmth, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

The warehouse is quiet again, the night’s earlier chaos now a distant memory. After your moment with Logan, sleep feels elusive. You lie awake in the dark, staring up at the cracked ceiling, your mind swirling with thoughts. Logan had gone back to his usual, silent brooding self—though something between you has undeniably shifted.

Beside you, Wade stirs. He’s not asleep, despite the rhythmic breathing you’ve been hearing. Maybe you’ve spent too much time with him, but you can always tell when he’s faking it. His chest rises and falls in exaggerated movements, like he’s mimicking sleep just to mess with you. Typical Wade.

You roll over to face him, catching his eyes already on you. The dim light barely reaches him, but you can still make out the faint glimmer in his gaze beneath the mask. He lies sprawled out on the floor, his arms behind his head, too relaxed for someone who’s always on edge. There’s a familiar playfulness to the way he’s watching you.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, but still with that teasing edge.

You smirk. “Guess not. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t sleeping either, Wade.”

“Me? Oh, no. I was totally in dreamland,” he says, his tone light as he mimics a dramatic yawn. “I was having this crazy dream where I was a billionaire playboy, and I owned a private island made of chimichangas. You know, the usual.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Of course you were."

There’s a moment of silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. Wade’s humor has always been a kind of shield, deflecting any real vulnerability with a joke, but you’ve learned to read between the lines. He may act like nothing ever gets to him, but you know better. The world you live in has a way of wearing down even the toughest masks, and Wade—despite his bravado—feels it all.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wade’s head tilts, and though you can’t see his face beneath the mask, you know he’s staring at you, really staring at you. His fingers tap idly on his stomach, as if weighing your words.

“Pretend? Moi? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, though his voice lacks its usual sharpness. “I’m as real as it gets, babe. What you see is what you get. Unless, of course, you want me to break into a musical number, then all bets are off.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking at him closely. “Wade…” you begin, and this time, his tapping stops. His whole body stills, like he’s waiting for you to say something that he’s not ready to hear, or maybe he’s been waiting too long for it.

“I see you,” you continue, your voice soft but sure. “Behind all the jokes, all the masks. I see you.”

Wade doesn’t move for a long moment, and you wonder if you’ve crossed some line, peeled back something he didn’t want to expose. But then, slowly, he sits up, turning to face you. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something quieter, something raw.

“And what do you see?” he asks, his voice low, almost vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard from him.

You hold his gaze, knowing that beneath the mask, Wade is asking you for something more than just an answer. He’s asking you if you can handle him—all of him. The scars, the madness, the brokenness that he tries so hard to hide behind humor.

“I see someone who cares more than he lets on,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest. “Someone who acts like nothing bothers him, but who would do anything to protect the people he loves. Even if he pretends not to.”

Wade is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rougher than usual, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “Well… shit.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it comes out softer than you expected. “That’s your big response?”

“What can I say?” Wade replies, his voice returning to its usual self-deprecating humor. “You go and pull on my heartstrings, and I get all emotionally constipated. Not a pretty sight.”

But there’s a warmth to his tone now, a vulnerability that lingers beneath the joke. He reaches up, tugging at the edge of his mask like he’s contemplating something. His fingers hesitate, then slowly pull the fabric up over his nose and mouth, revealing the scarred skin underneath. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him without his mask, but every time he does it, it feels like he’s giving you a piece of himself that he doesn’t share with many.

“God, I must look like an old potato that’s been left out in the sun too long,” he mutters, trying to laugh it off, but there’s something uncertain in his eyes.

You reach out, cupping his cheek gently. “You look like Wade,” you say softly.

Wade stills under your touch, his eyes widening just a little, like he’s not used to anyone touching him so tenderly. His breath hitches as your thumb brushes over one of his scars, and for the first time in a long while, Wade is speechless.

Then, without warning—without overthinking—you lean in. Your lips meet his in a kiss that’s soft, tentative at first, but Wade responds almost immediately. His hand comes up to rest on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It’s not as desperate or raw as the one you shared with Logan, but there’s something equally intense about it. It’s Wade—his humor, his chaos, his scars—all wrapped into this one moment of quiet vulnerability.

The kiss breaks, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, foreheads resting together, breathing each other in. Wade’s hand lingers on your waist, his thumb tracing small circles, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Wade says, though his voice is softer, almost breathless. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smile, your hand still resting on his cheek. “Neither am I.”

He chuckles, though it’s more of a nervous laugh. “So… does this mean I get to put ‘official apocalypse snuggle buddy’ on my resume? ‘Cause, you know, I’m a package deal—jokes, chimichangas, and quality cuddles.”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. "Guess you'll have to prove your cuddle game is up to standard first."

Wade grins, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, something unspoken but understood. He pulls you a little closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Challenge accepted, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Challenge accepted.”

The first light of dawn filters through the broken windows of the warehouse, casting long, pale beams across the dusty floor. You lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, your mind tangled in a mess of emotions that didn’t exist a day ago. The air feels heavier this morning, more charged. It’s not just the lingering exhaustion or the ever-present tension of survival—it’s the weight of what happened last night. Of what you did.

You kissed Logan.

And you kissed Wade.

And now… well, now everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous and confusing. The safe house, once just another forgotten building in the apocalypse, now feels like a pressure cooker. Every breath feels sharper, more significant, and the two men sharing this space with you… they look at you differently now.

Logan is already up, standing near the doorway, his back turned to you as he checks the barricades and watches for any signs of movement outside. He’s always the first one awake, always vigilant. His broad shoulders are tense, his posture alert as usual, but there’s something softer in the way he glanced at you earlier, a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He hasn’t said anything about what happened last night by the window, but you know he’s thinking about it. He hasn’t looked away from you for long, and when his gaze does meet yours, there’s a silent promise there—something unspoken but heavy.

But then there’s Wade.

You turn your head slightly, finding him still lounging on the floor nearby, but he’s awake too. His mask is back on, but you can feel his eyes on you from behind it. Even with the fabric between you, you know he’s watching, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, some sign that what happened between you wasn’t just a fleeting moment of insanity. His usual jokes and casual comments are there, but softer now, less of a shield. Every once in a while, you catch him looking at you differently too—like he’s holding back something real, something more than his typical irreverence.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

You have feelings for both of them, and not the fleeting, confused kind. Real, complicated feelings that have grown over time—through every fight, every desperate scramble to survive, every shared glance when you thought you might not make it through the day. With Logan, it’s deeper, older—a connection that feels like it’s been building ever since the world began to fall apart. With Wade, it’s unexpected, chaotic, but just as intense. Both of them have been there for you, in their own ways, and now you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

You sit up slowly, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind keeps looping back to the kisses. Logan’s rough, desperate kiss by the window—the way he had pulled you in like he was afraid to let go. Then Wade’s kiss, softer but just as powerful, laced with the unspoken vulnerability he rarely shows.

The guilt creeps in, though. You care about both of them, but you kissed them both, and they don’t know.

Wade shifts beside you, drawing your attention. He’s stretching his arms overhead, glancing at you with a lazy grin behind the mask. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well, or were you up all night dreaming of little ol’ me?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an underlying warmth there that makes your heart twist.

“Or both of us,” Logan grumbles from his spot by the door, his sharp ears catching Wade’s quip. His eyes flick to you briefly before returning to the street beyond the window, but even in that quick glance, you can feel the weight of what happened between you last night.

Your stomach flips as their eyes linger on you, and suddenly, you feel exposed—like you’re carrying this secret that’s too big for the small space you’re all sharing. How are you supposed to act normal when both of them are looking at you like this? When you don’t even know what normal looks like anymore?

Wade, ever the one to break any tension, lets out an exaggerated sigh and props himself up on one elbow. “So, what’s on today’s agenda? Raiding a grocery store for canned beans? Fighting off another group of apocalypse weirdos? Or”—he leans forward, voice lowering to a mock-conspiratorial whisper—“planning our post-apocalyptic ménage à trois? I mean, no one’s judging. It’s the end of the world and all.”

Your heart skips a beat at Wade’s bluntness, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Wade laughs, clearly enjoying your discomfort, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing the waters. Logan, on the other hand, tenses visibly, his eyes narrowing at Wade, though he says nothing. The silence that follows is heavier than it should be, stretching out uncomfortably.

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you stand up and brush the dust off your pants. “We should get moving,” you say, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t hammering in your chest. “We’ve stayed here too long already. It’s not safe.”

Logan grunts in agreement, pushing off from where he was standing and grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t say much, but his gaze lingers on you a little too long before he turns toward the door. Wade just watches you with that familiar grin, though you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you.

You’ve survived so much together—fights, hunger, loss—but this? This might be harder than any battle you’ve faced. You’re torn between two people who mean everything to you in different ways, and they don’t even know it yet.

As you gather your things and prepare to head out into the wasteland again, you can’t shake the feeling that this fragile balance won’t last long. Wade and Logan, so different yet so important to you, are bound to notice the tension eventually. And when they do, you don’t know what will happen—or how you’ll make sense of the feelings you have for both of them.

But for now, you focus on the next step. One foot in front of the other. You’ve survived the apocalypse this long—maybe you can survive this too.

Wade’s joke about the ménage à trois lingers in your mind, even though you know it was just Wade being Wade—always looking for a laugh, always ready to break the tension with something outrageous. Normally, you’d brush it off, roll your eyes and move on. But this time… something about it sticks. Maybe it’s the intensity of everything that’s happened, or the undeniable attraction you feel for both of them. Maybe it’s the strange new world you’re living in, where the old rules don’t seem to matter as much.

But whatever it is, you can’t stop your mind from wandering down that path.

Would they even be open to something like that?

The thought sends a shiver through you—part nerves, part curiosity. You know Logan, with all his brooding and tightly controlled emotions, doesn’t seem like the type to share easily. He’s possessive in his own quiet way, always watching, always protective. But Wade… Wade is unpredictable. Beneath his mask of jokes and sarcasm, there’s always been a deep well of feeling, something more complicated than anyone else gives him credit for. He’s seen more than most, lived through hell and come out the other side—scarred but still here.

And, if you’re being honest, you’ve wondered what it would be like to have them both in your life—really in your life—since last night. Logan, with his fierce protectiveness and raw intensity, and Wade, with his chaotic energy and unexpected vulnerability. The idea feels impossible, even reckless. But the way they look at you, the way both of them have made you feel… maybe it isn’t impossible.

You try to shake the thought away, but it’s like an itch you can’t scratch. In the quiet moments between gathering supplies and checking the perimeter, you catch yourself glancing at Wade, then at Logan, wondering how they see this. Could they…? Would they even consider it?

Unbeknownst to you, Wade has been thinking about something like this for longer than you’d imagine. Long before the world crumbled into chaos, he had joked about it, made those half-serious comments to hide what he was really feeling. He never thought it would actually be possible, but there was a part of him—deep down—that wanted it. That wanted you. And Logan, too, in a weird way. He’d always respected Logan, admired his strength, even if they got under each other’s skin.

Now, in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, where survival means making your own rules, Wade’s been waiting for a moment—waiting for you to realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to choose.

As the three of you move through the remains of a once-bustling city, Wade walks alongside you, his usual swagger in place. He cracks a joke about the abandoned cars you pass, something about Mad Max and your new potential career as a desert warlord, but his eyes keep flicking toward you, more serious than he lets on. Logan stays ahead, scouting silently, but even he glances back more often than usual, as if he can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

When you find a small diner that hasn’t been completely picked clean, you settle in for a rest. The windows are cracked, grime covering the once-shiny counters, but it feels safe enough for now. Logan takes first watch outside, his back to the door, as Wade plops down in one of the booths across from you.

“Ah, breakfast for champions,” Wade says, gesturing to the dented cans of food you’ve scavenged. “Can’t wait to see what culinary delight we’ve got today. Hope it’s Spam or baked beans.”

You snort, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “I think it’s some kind of… corn mash? I don’t even know anymore.”

“Delicious. We’ll call it ‘Corn à la Apocalypse,’” Wade says, and you can’t help but laugh. His humor always finds a way to crack through your walls, even when you don’t want it to.

But as you laugh, that thought creeps back into your mind. The joke. The impossible idea that’s been following you since this morning.

“Wade…” you start, your voice hesitant.

He looks at you, his expression still light but his eyes sharpening. “What’s up, buttercup?”

You pause, chewing on your lip for a moment, unsure if you should even bring this up. But the weight of it has been pressing on you, and maybe if you just throw it out there as a joke, like Wade does, it’ll be less terrifying.

“About what you said earlier,” you murmur, keeping your tone as casual as possible. “The, uh… ménage à trois thing. You were joking, right?”

Wade blinks, his head tilting slightly as if he’s surprised you’re even asking. “I mean, yeah, I was joking. But, you know… joking with a sprinkle of truth. Like all great comedians.” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a mock-serious whisper. “Why? Were you hoping I wasn’t?”

Your heart races at the way he says it, playful but laced with a hint of something real beneath the surface. You glance toward the door, where Logan stands on guard, unaware of this conversation. The thought of him mixed up in all this makes your pulse jump even more.

You try to laugh, but it comes out too forced. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Wade’s eyes lock onto yours, his usual playful mask slipping just a bit. He sits back, folding his arms over his chest as if he’s sizing you up. “Oh? Well, that’s interesting. You know Logan’s not exactly the ‘share your toys’ kind of guy, right?”

“I know,” you whisper, unsure what else to say. “I just… I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

Wade’s expression softens slightly, and for a moment, the tension lifts. He lets out a slow, exaggerated sigh, then leans forward again, resting his arms on the table.

“Look,” he says, his voice unusually gentle, “I’m not gonna lie. If this apocalypse has taught me anything, it’s that life’s too damn short for regrets. And, full disclosure, I’ve been hoping for something like this since way before the world went all zombie movie on us.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Wade shrugs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “What can I say? I’m a man of… complex tastes. But it’s not just a joke to me, sweetheart. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the jokes, but if you’re asking whether I’d be open to it—us—then yeah, I’m game. I’ve been game. But you… you’ve got to be honest with yourself. If you’re into me and Logan, that’s not exactly something we can pretend isn’t happening.”

Your mind reels. You hadn’t expected this kind of openness from Wade, though you should have known better. Beneath all his chaos, Wade is probably the most straightforward person you’ve ever known. He doesn’t hide who he is, not really.

But now… now you have to figure out if you’re ready to be that honest. To admit that you have feelings for both Logan and Wade, and to figure out what the hell that means.

Wade watches you carefully, his playful demeanor tempered by something more serious. “It’s not like we have to figure this all out right now,” he says, his voice soft. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t let the world tell us how to live. Not anymore.”

Your chest tightens, and as you sit there, staring into Wade’s eyes, you realize he’s right. You don’t have to figure it out right now. But sooner or later, you’ll have to face the truth: you want them both.

And somehow, that doesn’t feel as impossible as it once did.

The weight of everything Wade just said hangs in the air between you. His usual sarcastic, playful attitude is gone, replaced by something raw and honest—something that feels entirely real. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you sit there, processing the fact that Wade has been hoping for this, for you, for you and Logan, since long before the world turned upside down. And now… now you realize you want it too.

You’ve spent so long trying to ignore your feelings, pretending they didn’t exist. But it’s time to stop running from them. The truth is undeniable: you want both Wade and Logan in your life. Not one or the other. Both of them, in ways that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. They’ve both been with you through the worst, through every fight, every moment of fear and desperation, and you can’t imagine facing this world without either of them.

Wade leans back in his chair, watching you with a mix of curiosity and patience. He’s waiting for you to say something, to give him a sign that you’re on the same page.

“I think…” you begin, your voice quieter than you expect. “I think I want this. I want both of you in my life, and I don’t want to have to choose.” You swallow hard, your gaze flicking to the door where Logan stands on watch. “But Logan… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Wade smirks, though it’s softer than usual. “Yeah, well, I figured that much. He’s not exactly the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ type.” He tilts his head, eyes thoughtful behind the mask. “But he cares about you. He’d tear apart this entire wasteland if it meant keeping you safe. I think that’s something we can work with.”

You nod, your throat tightening. The thought of Logan’s reaction—of how complicated this will be—makes your stomach churn. But Wade is right. Logan cares about you, and you care about him. If anyone can understand the messy, chaotic nature of love in a world like this, it’s the three of you. Survival has forced you to redefine everything, to make new rules in a world where the old ones don’t fit anymore.

“We’ll have to talk to him,” you say, your voice steadier now. “As soon as we find another safe place, we’ll tell him. I don’t want to keep this a secret from him.”

Wade nods, surprisingly serious. “Yeah. We’ll talk to him. And I’ll try not to make too many jokes during the whole ‘hey, we both want to be with you’ conversation. Promise.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, despite the tension. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey, I’m capable of being a little serious.” Wade stands, stretching his arms over his head and casting a glance toward Logan outside. “Well, maybe not too serious. But I’ll behave. Mostly.”

You smile, but there’s still that nervous flutter in your chest. It feels surreal, the idea of sitting down with Logan and Wade and having this conversation. But as terrifying as it is, you know it’s the right thing to do. You owe it to both of them to be honest, to let them know how you feel.

Wade catches your eye again, something softer in his gaze now. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “No matter what happens, we’ll figure this out. We always do. And for the record, I’m glad you want this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

His words warm you in a way you didn’t expect, and you realize that, despite all the chaos and fear, there’s a strange sense of peace in knowing where you stand with Wade. That he’s been waiting, hoping, for this moment. That he’s willing to face whatever comes next with you.

You take a deep breath, standing up and stretching the tension from your shoulders. “I guess we’ll see how Logan takes it.”

Wade chuckles softly. “Yeah. Should be fun.” But there’s no malice in his tone—just a shared understanding that this conversation won’t be easy, but it’s necessary.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting the remains of the city in a golden haze, you and Wade gather your supplies, mentally preparing for the road ahead. You’ll have to move again soon, find another place to hole up for the night—somewhere safer, more secure than this crumbling diner.

Logan steps back inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. “Time to move,” he says gruffly, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze when he looks at you—a softening, maybe, from what happened last night.

You nod, your heart beating faster as you stand beside Wade, feeling the weight of what’s about to come. You’ll tell him soon. You’ll lay everything on the table, and you’ll deal with whatever comes after. Logan deserves to know the truth.

As the three of you head out into the wasteland, the tension between you is palpable, but different now—less about survival, more about the unresolved feelings hanging in the air. Wade walks beside you, occasionally tossing out sarcastic comments to break the silence, while Logan keeps his usual steady pace ahead, unaware of the conversation waiting for him.

It’s only a matter of time before you find another refuge—another place where you can stop running for just a moment and finally have the conversation that’s been building since last night.

And when you do, you’ll be ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens, you won’t have to choose between them.

Because in this broken world, maybe there’s room for something unexpected. Something messy, but real.

The sky darkens as the three of you push further into the wasteland, navigating through the crumbled remains of a city that was once alive. You move in silence, each step taking you closer to the inevitable conversation that weighs heavily on your mind. Wade walks beside you, his usual swagger muted but present, while Logan leads the way ahead, his posture tense and alert, as always.

After a few hours of walking, you find a relatively safe building—an old, abandoned warehouse with heavy metal doors still intact. It’s not perfect, but it’s shelter for the night, and that’s all you need. Logan pushes the door open, motioning for you and Wade to head inside before sealing it behind you.

Once inside, the air is thick with the quiet hum of anticipation. You glance at Wade, who gives you a reassuring nod. It’s time. You know that. It’s just… how do you even begin?

Logan drops his pack on the floor, his muscles visibly relaxing for the first time today. “We’ll stay here for the night,” he says, his voice gruff as he checks the windows. “Move again in the morning.”

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan, we need to talk.”

He turns to face you, his brow furrowed. “About what?”

Wade moves in beside you, leaning against a wall casually, though his eyes are more serious than usual. “It’s kind of a big talk, actually,” he says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Like, ‘world’s going to end again if we don’t handle this’ big. But no pressure.”

Logan’s frown deepens, clearly sensing something unusual in the air. “Spit it out.”

You swallow hard, glancing between the two of them. “It’s about… us. All of us.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens as he looks at you, then flicks to Wade. His arms cross over his chest, a defensive stance you’ve seen him take a thousand times before. “What about us?”

Wade clears his throat, stepping forward with his hands up like he’s trying to calm an angry animal. “Alright, listen, bub. Here’s the deal. Our dear Y/N here”—he gestures toward you—“has been doing a lot of thinking. Like, a lot. And what she’s realized is that she doesn’t want to pick between us. She’s into both of us, and she kinda, sorta… wants us both in her life.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, the expression unreadable. His gaze flickers between you and Wade, his jaw clenching as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But then his eyes settle on you, and there’s that softness again—mixed with confusion. “You want… both of us?”

You nod, your voice coming out softer than you expected. “I do. I care about you, Logan. I care about Wade, too. And I know it’s not exactly… normal. But nothing about this world is normal anymore. I don’t want to choose between you two, and I don’t think I should have to.”

Logan’s face is unreadable for a moment. You watch as he processes, his shoulders tense, and you brace yourself for the worst. Wade, however, just stands there, his usual carefree attitude tempered by a quiet patience. He knows this won’t be easy for Logan, but he also knows it’s the only way forward.

After what feels like an eternity, Logan lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “So, what? You want me and Wade to share? That it?”

Wade can’t help himself. “Look, it’s not so much ‘sharing’ as it is ‘teamwork,’ Logan. And I know you’re more of the lone wolf type, but come on—we’re in the apocalypse here. Gotta adapt.”

Logan shoots him a sharp look, but it’s not as biting as it could be. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea, his eyes narrowing as he turns back to you. “You’re serious about this?”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, and nod. “I am.”

For a long moment, Logan just stands there, staring at you like he’s searching for some kind of answer in your eyes. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eases. His expression softens, just a little, and he lets out a low grunt, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I can’t say I saw this coming. But…” He looks at you again, his voice quieter. “If this is what you want, I’m not gonna stand in the way.”

Relief floods through you, the weight lifting off your chest. You can’t believe it, but Logan—gruff, guarded Logan—is actually willing to give this a chance.

Wade, of course, wastes no time in breaking the tension. “See? I knew the big guy had a soft spot for us. Now, don’t worry, Logan, I promise not to steal all your clothes in the middle of the night. Well, not unless you ask nicely.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if even he can’t help but be amused. “Keep talking, Wade, and I’ll find a new use for those claws of mine.”

Wade puts his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. “Hey, no need for threats! We’re a team now, remember? A very sexy, very complicated team.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally breaking. Wade’s inappropriate jokes are his way of lightening the mood, but underneath it all, you can tell he’s just as relieved as you are. Logan might still be wrapping his head around the idea, but he’s in. You know it, and so does Wade.

Wade grins, throwing an arm around both of you, clearly enjoying the moment. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what do you say we celebrate this beautiful union with some canned beans and a group cuddle? Or—wait for it—a ménage à trois?”

Logan rolls his eyes, but there’s a softness in his gruff exterior that wasn’t there before. “You’re pushing your luck, Wilson.”

Wade winks at you, leaning in with his usual flair. “Oh, trust me, I haven’t even started yet.”

first time writing this type of relationship thing, and I hope I did good lol.

if you liked the story like, reblog and if you want to read more drop a follow! <3

[vickyvicarious]

Honestly, I think it could be very impactful if Van Helsing did die in the graveyard tonight. It'd continue the trend of people taking any direct stand against Dracula being killed almost casually in return. Up the stakes even more. Maybe he could be found the next morning on a grave with his neck broken, a look of fear or defiance on his face - a reminder of Mr. Swales's death.

Jack would get the note and then find him or hear about him being found in the graveyard. The suitors would arrive thanks to the note the Professor sent them and they'd link up with him. I imagine they would go together anyway, though more expecting to support a Jack who is wondering if it can be real after all or if it was just madness before he was murdered somehow. They would all learn just how true it is together, would have to save each other and then follow the directions left to them. Or possibly seek out the Harkers first and then they might be involved in the Bloofer Lady staking. That would be a good moment of horror too, Mina seeing Lucy like this...

When the groups united they'd have to do research of their own, or go through the documents left behind by Van Helsing. Books of fairy tales and superstitions, pages with scattered notes, comparing them to the diaries...

Thematically, it would fit pretty well with all the other deaths around this part of the book. The parents are all dead and gone. And while Van Helsing is not a parent to anyone here, he was a mentor and guide to Jack in particular. He would join in with the others who now are orphaned/have to figure things out themselves. Jonathan has inherited the responsibilities of a law firm, Arthur has inherited the title and all that goes with it, Jack would inherit Van Helsing's final task.

There would be more collaboration in general (rather than all mostly following) and more leadership emerging from Mina, probably. None of the suitors are going to be as ready to take the lead in this situation, at least not as totally as Van Helsing. Of course, issues with her being left behind probably aren't going to just totally go away. But I imagine less so, or in a different way. Along the way I think there could be more moments for Arthur or Quincey to shine as well, stepping in at different points where originally Van Helsing took the floor.

The end of the story, where everyone splits up three ways, would have to be changed somehow, of course. Either someone has to go alone, or they have to ignore one route entirely. But I think that might be the biggest actual plot change you'd find completely necessary. Other than what happens to Mina, of course. I do think Dracula would still go after Mina somehow, even if she went with them to examine his boxes. But maybe they wouldn't get to the point of doing so as quickly until they collated all their info. Maybe things happen slower, maybe what happened the final night (Jonathan hypnotized into sleep right next to him) would happen more often. Oh, I guess the other change might be no one to hypnotize Mina while spying, unless this is some skill Quincey happens to have or whatever. But then, Jack seems familiar at least with the theory, so maybe he could make an attempt at it.

I mean, there's no reason you would have to stick that closely to the original story. But for the most part I think you could if you wanted, and it would just be a different tone that would still be really powerful. And it would be kind of interesting to have Van Helsing's role be limited to failing to save Lucy throughout. Hiding information right up until he tries to share it, after which he dies. That phrasing makes it sound really brutal, but... I mean it would kind of be brutal, but his legacy would be bringing the two groups together, showing them the truth (or confirming it as the case may be) and entrusting them with the future.

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Drunk Nanami - Confession

woah, I've been having this idea for a while and felt inspired to write a cute little drabble on drunk Nanami. enjoy! word count: <1000 tags: nanami x reader, fluff

image credit: link

“I wanna pin you to the bed so bad and have my way with you like I’ve been craving for the past fucking year, you absolute disaster to my sanity”.

At first, when you open the text and read it, you can’t quite comprehend the meaning behind these words. Though the text is soaked in not-so-pure intentions of the sender, the wording is weirdly… gentleman’ish. 

Then you finally notice the sender’s name and make a perfect “O” with your mouth.

Kento fucking Nanami? Really?

You would expect a filthy text from Gojo because that’s just something he does. Hell, you’ve even received plenty of dick picks from Toji though you’ve met the guy just once and during that encounter, he was head to toe covered in blood and someone else’s guts. But Nanami?

You stared at your smartphone for a while, not really knowing what to say.

It’s not like you didn’t want it. In fact, the situation was pretty much the opposite: you desired it badly. As soon as you walked in the office one year ago and saw him towering over the coffee machine, adjusting his tie with precise movements, you knew he’d be the death of you. And during this whole year, Nanami was a perfect gentleman to everyone, including you.

It was always “good morning, how are you today?” or “take care, they say it might rain later”. And it was never “hey let’s grab dinner together” or “your ass looks fire in these pants”. Of course, that was part of his charm — but on the other hand, you never knew how he’d react if you ever… tried anything.

The screen lit up with another text.

“Don’t you have anything to say, dollface? Usually your pretty mouth is overworking whenever I look at you in the office. And I bet I can put it to better use than discussion of some dull numbers”.

“Nanami, are you drunk?”, you texted the first thought that came to you and groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“What if I am?”, the incoming text read. 

And another incoming text, the one that made your heart skip a beat or two.

“Can I come over?”

*** ***

The doorbell rang loudly, announcing his arrival. You cursed under your breath, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t listen. After you took one final deep breath and glanced in the mirror, you went to the door, opening it.

Kento was standing there, in front of you, his usual tie around his neck and his perfectly ironed shirt missing two top buttons and revealing a painfully muscular chest. As soon as you opened, he lifted his gaze, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“Damn, you did let me come over”, he smiled and walked casually through the door in your apartment as if he had visited it before. You followed, too dumbfounded to say anything but Kento didn’t give you a chance to even open your mouth. After taking a step or two and hearing you closing the door, he turned around swiftly and threw his arms around you, pulling you close. 

“I’ll devour you”, his lips trailed on your neck, pausing at an earlobe and making your blood boil. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do it”.

“Why didn’t you?”

You somehow managed to ask questions, given the state you were in: pressed to his body, his hands roaming over your waist, back, hips, and hair. Nanami was a starved man, desperate for you, and you felt his intense hunger growing with every second.

“Because I was never 100% sure you’d want it”, he whispered, his lips now mere inches from yours. “Because you are too good for someone like me. Because of a hundred more made-up reasons that I always use when I’m too scared by a good thing”. 

“And now the alcohol made your fears go away”, you chuckled nervously, hypnotized by the look in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this before. Right now, Nanami was the complete opposite of his usual self. He was… liberated? Was it the right word?

Nanami just sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He smelled wonderfully: rich woody scent mixed with something fresh like pine. The cologne crept in your nostrils, making a steady way towards a secret place in your heart. A place reserved for him only though you both didn’t know it yet.

“Can I ask for something?” He said suddenly, and your heart fluttered. Was he about to kiss you? Did he want to drag you in the bed? Was he interested in your body count?

You tensed up involuntarily, preparing for his question. Kento looked you dead in the eyes, his expression growing a bit more serious and determined.

“Can you… make me a sandwich?”, he asked shyly. “To be honest, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you’d actually invite me over so I was planning to eat at home”.

He chuckled awkwardly, and you burst into genuine laughter, grabbing his forearms and feeling incredibly at ease. So this drunk man who’d been wanting you for a whole fucking year just came in to ask for a sandwich? Wow.

“Yea, I’ll make two”, you wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling.

“Good. And I’ll make us breakfast in the morning”, he gave you a coy smile, his hands still wrapped around you.

“So… you mean you wanna stay over?”

“I wanna stay forever”, he kissed you softly. “If you don’t mind”.

You looked around, noticing how perfectly domestic Nanami looked in your apartment and nodded with a smile.

“Sounds good to me”.

He smiled back, his whole face lightening up. He then leaned in to you with a knowing smile.

“And by the way…”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

“I’m not drunk, sweetheart. Was just pushing my lack and damn, seems like I caught lightning in a bottle”.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hello friend! I'm in love with your writing!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Idk if your requests are still open but I'd like to request something if you don't mind!

I LOVED the hurt/comfort/whump fic you did for Hunter. Could you possibly do something like that for Tech x Reader?

Maybe Tech and the reader are on a mission together or maybe they've crash landed somewhere or something. The reader is badly hurt and Tech has to take care of her and treat her wounds and save her and comfort her in his own special Tech way 😂😍

Oh @arctrooper69 what can I say? I mean ... I think a thank you is just not enough. You have made my day with this request, so I took my time to give it the proper respect it deserves. I hope you like it. If it wasn't exactly what you were looking for I do apologize.

Please note that you are always welcome to send in requests. As this is a special request, it will be stored in my One Shots & Mini Series Master List.

The story got a little away from at 1400+ words, but I hope it's close to what you wanted.

And who doesn't love Tech. I love this adorable nerdy man.

Love oo,

His Promise

Warnings: Snow, injury, blood, explosions, crash, grief, fear, anxiety, hurt, fluff, near death, feelings of being a burden, getting in the way, I think that's it. If I miss any, please let me know.

Please note the explanation of Snow, Tech gives, was taken from the National Snow and Ice Data Centre.

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The wind was picking up, as the snow piled down and was doing everything in its power to keep you and Tech from being rescued. You looked at the snow as it came down in sheets outside the entrance of the cavern he found, mesmerized by its beauty. 

“It’s beautiful and so calming …” you said slowly, your body already weakened from your injury and loss of blood.

“What are you talking about?” Tech did his best not to let the slowness of your breathing or even the breathless way you were speaking affect him. His anxiety was already high, and his fear of losing you was nearing his breaking point. 

“The snow…” you kept watching the soft flakes float down as they gently landed on the ground, piling on top of one another, almost as though they were unable to survive without the comfort of those around them. 

Tech glanced up to see the blizzard which prevented you both from leaving. As he watched the speed of the wind, he calculated it would’ve been nearly impossible for Hunter to bring the ship close to them. As he looked at the used bandages already soaked through with your blood his fear only grew. You needed immediate medical attention, more than he could provide at the moment, or it would mean certain death for you to be out here any longer.

Frankly, he couldn’t stop picturing the way you lunged forward as the ship crashed. He was helpless to watch you, as your body fell forward against the console, as a piece of the console broke off and jabbed you in your abdomen. It all happened too fast and somehow in slow motion. He could still hear your scream piercing his ear as he pulled you off the console.

He tried to stop the bleeding right away, however when he went to look for the med kit, he realized only too late that it had fallen out of the shuttle when the engine and the side compartment blew. All he had left were his emergency bandages and gauze and they weren’t nearly enough. 

At that moment, he couldn’t care less about how beautiful the snow was or how calming the blizzard looked from inside a cavern, that he only had to find because that piece of osik shuttle decided to have a fuel leak, catching on fire. 

Within seconds he had needed to drag you out of the relatively warm and safe shelter you both had, grabbing what supplies he could before the ship blew up. Thankfully, he had been able to send a message to Hunter when the shuttle crashed initially. So it was only a matter of time before the Marauder showed up, but …

His eyes fell back to the bundle of used gauze, his anxiety climbing as he knew you needed more first aid than he could provide at the moment. You needed the Marauder, you needed his med kit that he carefully stocked and kept safe on board the Marauder. At this point in time, he didn’t care about any kriffing snow.

“Snow is an accumulation of packed ice crystals. The condition of the packed crystals determines a variety of attributes, such as colour, temperature and water equivalent. As weather conditions change, the packed ice crystals can change as well, and this affects the characteristics of snow.”

You chuckled at his ability to pull forth information like it was nothing. Unfortunately the chuckle turned to coughing. Only causing you to dribble more blood out of your mouth, you wiped away what you could. He didn’t need to see that, “Tech …” you coughed again, “turn off your brain for two seconds, don’t think and just look. Just watch.”

He pulled the heater closer towards you, “Stop talking and try and warm up.”

“Tech…” you held his hand, “just look.”

His eyes drifted up your body, till he locked eyes with you. They were pleading for him to listen and to just have him appreciate what you found mesmerizing. He tried to follow your advice, focusing on the snow, but all his mind kept drifting back to was this blizzard that was preventing you from getting the medical attention you needed, so desperately. 

He shook his head focusing back on your abdomen, trying to stop the bleeding. Trying his best to keep you with him. 

“Tech,” you gripped his wrist “… stop …”

“No.”

His tone was firm and full of anger, why did he agree to let you come with him? If he used his brain instead of allowing his feelings for you to dictate his actions, you wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Why did you always insist on following him? Why didn’t you just stay behind on Pabu? Simply because you wanted to see the galaxy, and he was excited to show it to you? It was his fault you were here. It was his fault you were in danger. It was his fault he … was going to lose you.

“Tech …” you squeezed his wrist. He removed your hand from his wrist, placing it off to the side as he focused on your wound. He didn’t deserve your touch, he didn’t deserve to have you comfort him. It was his fault you both crashed on this force forsaken planet. 

There was nothing you could do as you watched Tech pull away. 

From the moment you met him on Pabu, the way he worked with Phee as he helped rescue the villagers when the rogue wave was rushing towards the island, and the way he helped make everything more ‘efficient,’ you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. You wanted to learn from him, to listen to him go on with regards to anything and everything. Only problem was you never had the courage to actually utter the words you were dying to. Phee told you time and time again, ‘later’ was never a guarantee, and now as you lay on the cold floor of the cavern you were in, bleeding out of your abdomen, you realized how little time there was left. 

  Tears welled up in your eyes, as you realized you needed to unburden yourself. You needed to tell him what had been pressing on your heart before you didn’t have the strength to, it didn’t help that you were feeling weaker with each passing second. Also didn’t help that you could tell he was angry, actually a more accurate description would be infuriated, more than likely at you.

“I’m sorry.” You offered the only apology you could. “I’m sorry I’m such a burden, even now.” You took in a shuddering breath as Tech stopped moving his hands for two seconds as he focused on your face. “I’m sorry for always pestering you to teach me,” you offered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for not listening,” a tear slid down your cheek, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. To have to feel responsible for someone like me.” 

He shook his head, his teeth clenched as his anger, grief, fear, and sadness overwhelmed him completely in that moment. He pulled off his helmet and placed it beside him. 

“Stop.” It was his only command.

“Please, I …” you coughed again, trying to not cough on him. “I just want … I need to …”

He cut off your speech as his hand cupped your cheek, “Cyar’ika …” tears welled up in his eyes, “you were … are never a burden.” He couldn’t believe that’s what you thought of him… that’s what you believed he felt for you. He shook his head again as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I have loved every second we have spent together. I made a point to record every moment with you, because they were more precious to me than breathing.”

You held on to his bicep, keeping him close as tears streamed down your cheek, “Tech … I … I don’t want to go… I want … I want to stay here with you…”

“You’re not going anywhere. I just got you …” his tears landed on your cheeks, mixing with your own, “you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Hold me… please… just hold me until…I can’t feel your arms anymore.”

“I’ll hold you longer than that,” Tech pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he felt your body grow weaker. Your eyes were closed, your body was growing pale. He was so focused on you, he didn’t hear the voices calling out to him, at least not until he felt Hunter’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t wait, there were no more seconds to lose. He rushed towards the Marauder with you in his arms, he wasn’t going to lose you. He promised. He was going to bring you back.

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