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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you.

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.”

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust.

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan.

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince.

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin.

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire.

“All by your lonesome?”

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again.

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back.

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you.

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air.

“Wanted what?”

“You know.”

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting.

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips.

“What? That I want to fuck you?”

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch.

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you.

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left.

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter.

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?”

“Smell w—“

Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.”

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?”

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half.

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile.

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.”

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo.

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows.

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse.

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same.

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.”

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best.

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions.

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out.

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch.

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help.

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?”

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new.

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him.

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons.

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down.

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose.

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero.

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins.

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information.

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.”

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

“Nope.”

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum.

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.”

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable.

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?”

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.”

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat.

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?”

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.”

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?”

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.”

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.”

Lover, huh?

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose.

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard.

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground.

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done.

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away.

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him.

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised.

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay.

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath.

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation.

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured.

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through.

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten.

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.”

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you.

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself.

“I couldn’t let him take you.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.”

“I’m sorry.”

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?”

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

#fear of losing it #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #haunted hoedown #summer writes

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edwinspaynes · 2 months ago

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Okay, so. I am very happy to inform y'all that I am beginning work on the first "episode" (chapter) of my Dead Boy Detectives season 2 fic today!

It has two potential working titles, both lyrics from Taylor Swift's Fresh Out the Slammer. I am not going to reveal them because I haven't selected which one I'll be using yet.

It will have 9 chapters. The official case titles are:

The Case of the Weeping Walls

The Case of Niko Sasaki

The Case of the Choked Cheerleaders

The Case of the Scorned Son

The Case of Hell's Own Track

The Case of the Shredded Tapestry

The Case of the Separated Soulmates

The Case of the Great Fire, Part I

The Case of the Great Fire, Part II

Each chapter will also come with a fun feature, but I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about that yet. :)

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS POST. I will tag everyone who wants a tag, but only if they comment since that's how I'll keep track of the list.

Next question because I know this is going to be an extremely expansive and time-consuming project:

I would still post my usual DBDA content, including other DBDA fics, on this blog. The other one would be exclusively for longfic-related updates.

I would probably still reblog the chapters I post there onto this blog.

Finally, something for you to enjoy: a playlist for the fic! This is very short and uninteresting, but it will be an ever-evolving thing that probably gets long eventually, so please follow it if you're interested :)

A few spoilers under the cut that might impact interest (endgame ship, etc)

Unequivocal Payneland endgame (they're soulmates your honour)

Palasaki and NN/Kashi endgames

Happy ending for The Cat King, who plays a big role in the story

No Sandman crossovers besides potentially a Death appearance (I do not know Sandman well enough to include them)

BAMF Edwin scenes ;)

No Esther or Monty (sorry!) - there is a new OC antagonist

I'm currently trying to find a place for Jenny. I want to include her, but she will likely only have a few cameos since I can't for the life of me think of a plotline to involve her in.

I will be keeping up with Yockey-posted spoilers and incorporating them into the story when possible (so, Niko is the Principal, etc)

#dead boy detectives #dbda #save dbda #save dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #Spotify #nwatslidmt

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astraariel · 1 year ago

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eternal snow

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: your love for sanji was unconditional, unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same seeing as there were petals coming out of your mouth.

word count: 3.6K

warnings: spoilers (?) just the name of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: loosely based on “eternal snow” from fullmoon wo sagashite; angst; hanahaki disease; implied cheating; modern!au; hurt no comfort; lovesick; requited unrequited love

author's note: I think along with everyone opla is taking over my life so it encouraged me to finish this fic I started months ago lol. once again I like angst and this is soooo ooc of sanji he would never cheat I love him so much I’m sorry. on another note, I really like AmaLee’s cover of this song so you can give it a listen if you want to feel the vibe.

also, ignore the fact that Pudding is sixteen, she’s older than that in this. I couldn’t really think of anyone else to have/didn't want to think of a different character. just know, she’s of age. other than that, ignore grammar mistakes and enjoy♡

──★ ˙ ̟read pt2 here!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten to this point. You were certain that you two would be together forever. How you had unknowingly lost the one you love so dearly, you would never know.

Sanji was a flirt and you loved it, he could simply say that you looked beautiful today and you’d melt. Hell, that’s how you too met, Nami had introduced you two and Sanji wooed his way into your heart. You knew that he had you in the palm of his hand, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

Sanji was an attentive lover. When he loved, he showered you with his attention. You could always tell that his presence was there whenever you spoke. He’d care and cater to every request you asked of him, not allowing you to lift a single finger. It’s who he was.

You were blinded by your love for Sanji that you never noticed him slipping away from your grasp.

The two of you were currently sitting together on your living room couch. Sanji mentioned there was a new show he wanted to watch, so here the two of you were. Your attention was focused on the TV in front of you while his was on his phone.

You glance at him, “Who’s that?”

He hadn’t looked away from it for more than 30 seconds throughout the last episode. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he looks at you.

“Oh, it's the new dessert chef at the restaurant,” he shuts his phone off, “I've been assigned to help her around and show her the ropes,” he smiles, “It’s nothing, you want popcorn?”

You turn to him, “Of course I do.” He gets up to walk to your kitchen, “Hey, I love you.”

He walks up behind you and bends down, kissing your head, “And I love you more.” He stands up and you hear him rummaging through the pantry for a popcorn packet.

You cough slightly, “Could you grab me some water, Sanji?” He shouts back a response but you don’t make it out because you’re too busy pulling a petal out of your mouth.

♡‧₊˚

After that lone petal had made its introduction, it planted itself as a constant. Every so often for the following weeks, you’d feel something weird in your mouth, only to pull out a single flower petal.

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about it. On top of the weird cough you were having, Sanji was also acting off.

It was small at first, just tiny, little white lies that he’d tell you.

Like when he’d say he was tired, that he was going to bed, but you could hear him on his phone laughing at something from the room. Or when he claimed that his phone had died and that’s why he hadn’t texted you back even though you were hanging with Nami at the time and he had replied to a video she had sent him a minute after you texted him.

That was just the first few weeks.

You weren’t sure when the white lies became real lies but it had only spiraled more. You had found that he wasn’t even bothering with lying anymore, simply stating that he was too busy to come over or that he didn’t even want to hang out with you that day.

Sanji would claim to be too tired and not bother to see you for an entire week, but then he’d call you complaining that he missed you and question why the two of you hadn’t gone on a date recently and then insist that he was going to cook dinner for the two of you. Those times were always the best. It made you feel like nothing was wrong.

It was pure whiplash.

You were never sure which Sanji you were gonna get that day. Maybe it’d be the Sanji that you loved or this new person who had taken over and wouldn’t even text you back for days on end.

Recently, he was your loving, doting boyfriend. Which caused you to completely forget about the flower petals you were currently collecting from your mouth when you were being distracted by Sanji’s full attention.

You were lying on Sanji’s chest recounting your day to him when suddenly the sound of his phone pinging cut you off.

A quiet chuckle made you peek up at Sanji, his eyes were looking at his phone intently, whatever was on his screen, clearly captivated him more than what was coming out of your mouth.

You sit up, his blatant disinterest in your day annoying you.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your voice cuts through the room.

He looked up at your now sitting form, it looked like he was just acknowledging your presence.

He lets out a noise of confusion, “What?”

“Are you angry at me? Did I say or do something that pissed you off? Because, please, just tell me, I can't take it anymore.” you pleaded.

You notice Sanji’s body tensing, his brow scrunching in even more confusion. He laughs awkwardly, “Baby, what are you talking about? I’m not angry.” he looks away, “I love you, you know that right?”

And suddenly, you weren’t angry anymore.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He glances at his phone again.

But you don’t care, because he loves you.

Satisfied with his response, you settle back down but are interrupted when you begin to cough. Quickly, you stand up to fetch your handkerchief from your pocket, wiping your mouth swiftly.

You look back at Sanji, “I’m gonna-” but before you can finish, you feel the familiar flowers clawing their way up your throat. You walk out of the room coughing.

Sanji doesn’t look up from his phone.

♡‧₊˚

He was late.

Again.

You were exhausted. The constant lies that you fooled yourself into believing for the sake of your heart were beginning to wear on you.

The old hoodie you were wearing enveloped you in an attempt to provide yourself some level of comfort that no one could really give you anymore.

It’s late, around midnight, last you checked. The spaghetti dinner left on the table you had cooked had long gone cold. The Baratie had closed hours ago and Sanji still wasn’t home.

You sit in complete darkness, the TV is currently rattling off an old rerun of some show you didn’t watch. You’re too tired to get up and find the remote to change the channel so you settle on watching the old comedic sitcom. You’re holding your trusty handkerchief that’s become your best friend in the past months; ready to close around your mouth in an attempt to catch the petals of flowers that’d come up your throat every so often.

Your eyes glaze over the screen when you hear the door creak open. Footsteps were heard as a soft clatter sounded throughout the room from Sanji setting his keys down on the counter.

You sit up slowly, in an effort to prohibit any intense coughing.

Your eyes meet Sanji’s surprised ones, “You’re still awake? It’s late, you should go to bed.” he looks away.

“You missed dinner.” You look over at Sanji’s form, he’s stiff, you note.

“I stayed late to help close, sorry we can reschedule.” He brushes you off swiftly.

“Was she there?” The argument had already begun, why not fuel it some more?

Sanji whips his head at you, an incredulous look gracing his features. “Who are you talking about?” Acting dumb was never a good look on him.

Your tired eyes stare at him, “I know you’re spending time with her.” The venom in your tone was palpable.

You were over the lies. You were over the constant tiptoeing between each other, you’re honestly surprised he still even decided to come over. It would have been better for him to stay at his place and just call you in the morning to tell his lie.

He has balls, you’ll give him that.

“Do you even love me anymore?”

The silence that surrounded the room was upsetting. Of course, he didn’t, who were you fooling? You had all the proof you needed in all of the trashcans around your house, discarded tissues soaked in blood, and petals filled the bins.

Sanji scoffs, “I don’t know what you want from me.” He doesn't answer the question, “Why are you asking if I love you, you're being needy.” He stares at you before continuing, “If you don’t trust me,” he looks away, “Then maybe we should break up.” With a tone of finality, he turns around and walks toward the door, the sound of it shutting echoing throughout the house.

You’re left alone in the silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall muffling your coughs that were accompanied by flowers and blood.

♡‧₊˚

With the new development of the blooms coming out of your throat, you felt defeated. You’re not sure what you did in a past life to deserve this. You didn’t wish this on anyone, it was a lonely and awful feeling, physically and emotionally.

You’ve gotten used to your condition. It had been a month since you’d seen Sanji after he had broken things off and in that month, you would constantly find yourself leaning over the toilet bowl, hacking up blood and flower blooms.

You finally had the courage to look up what you assumed was hanahaki disease. It was a rare condition, but you were certain that was what was causing you pain. The only cure was to have surgery that resulted in the patient forgetting about whomever they had loved. That you’d act as if nothing had happened, that you’d live in ignorance bliss afterward.

Sacrificing your heart for your life.

After that month, you had decided to go to a coffee shop forcing yourself to get out of the house and do something.

So you went to Sanji’s favorite coffee shop.

Why you had put yourself through that? You weren't sure.

You remember wrapping your hand around the door handle, ready to walk in when a wisp of light auburn hair had caught your attention inside the cafe.

There she was. Pudding. The girl who had replaced you. The one who had captivated Sanji’s attention in a way you could only dream of.

Sanji stood beside her, you were certain he couldn't see you from inside, his attention was fully on Pudding’s face, absorbing whatever story she had been telling him.

He had never looked at you like that.

Did he ever love you? Were you that stupid to even see the truth? Had it been there all along and you were simply too blind to notice?

An “excuse me” had brought you back to reality and had you rushing back to your apartment in hopes of not bumping into Sanji or Pudding. You weren't sure your heart could take it if you were forced to talk to them.

After that defeat you noticed that you were no longer hacking up petals, but fully blossomed flowers, you couldn’t walk for a long distance without wheezing, the flowers constricting your airways preventing you from wanting to do anything. You knew you were nearing the final stage, soon roots were going to begin to show up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to a doctor. You had read that the longer you kept this from being treated, you’d enter the point of no return.

So, you simply waited.

Your mind was reeling. You never wanted to stop loving Sanji. You didn’t care about the pain that it brought you.

You don’t care that you still long to have Sanji tell you that he loves you. To tell you and for you not to immediately have to turn away and cough up blood and flowers.

You missed him. You yearned for him.

After Nami had found out why you and Sanji broke up, she went on a rant about how she was going to kill him, on how he could have done this to you. You weren't sure if you had ever seen her get so angry before.

But even after that, you confessed that you still loved him.

She proceeded to call you insane, but she simply didn’t understand. She didn’t know about how his eyes would sparkle when he would go on about a new recipe that he developed and how he was certain that it was going to be the new hit at the Baratie. She didn’t know how bashful he got when you complimented him on his food. How he’d kiss you like how it was the first time you were kissing each other.

You loved him. And you would forever love him.

But he haunted your life. Leaving you lying at night, not even allowing you to find comfort in your dreams since he haunted those too. When you’d close your eyes you could only mourn for the love that once was. To mourn for him even though he was alive and well, but could you say the same for yourself?

You had long accepted that you were going to die. If anything, you willed it. Never did you want to forget your love for Sanji. The idea that you would never be able to recall how he made your heart pound every time he’d look at you, would be a nightmare.

But you were tired.

In the months after the cafe incident you would go through phases where the pain would turn to anger, cursing Sanji, wishing you two had never met, wishing that Nami had never introduced you too.

But the anger would never stay directed towards Sanji. It would always circle back to you. And anger would turn to pity and pity would turn to sadness.

You wanted to cry and scream at the sky, to yell at the world, to question why love felt this way. Why couldn't he just love you back, why were you being punished for simply loving him unconditionally?

You suffocate yourself in the love that you have for Sanji. Sacrificing your every breath to simply feel the true and fierce love you felt for him. You’d cry until you were gasping for air, til you were choking up flowers that were clogging your lungs. You wished, begged, for it to go away. Wishing that you had never fallen for him.

But even with all the pain he caused you. You could never hate him.

You could never hate Sanji.

You can’t even bring yourself to hate Pudding, it wasn't her fault that Sanji was infatuated with her rather than you.

And you could never truly hate him for that.

The sterile white walls and the smell of disinfectant wafting through the air brought you back to reality.

Recalling how hours before Nami had found you on the ground of your bathroom, post-hacking your brains out from the various blooms of flowers that rose from your throat at what seemed like at every hour of the day as of recently. You hadn’t heard her call for you when she entered your apartment so you weren’t able to hide anything from her.

“Are you insane?” Her voice ricocheted in the bathroom after you had explained to her what had been happening to you for the last couple of months.

You were numb the entire car ride to the hospital as Nami yelled at you for being so careless.

“Why are you letting that boy kill you?”

Why were you?

Why were you putting yourself through this pain, knowing he would never love you again?

The recent memory reminded you of Nami’s presence on the side chair that was placed beside the crunchy bed you were currently sitting on. Her brown eyes met yours and smiled softly at you.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Nami’s attempt at reassurance was comforting to you for 5 seconds before the door swung open revealing the doctor.

“Hello,” she said your name, “you’re the one with hanahaki disease, correct?” You glance over at Nami before replying to the doctor in confirmation. “Well, unfortunately, it has been developing for a while and if you had come just a little bit later it would have been untreatable, so I highly suggest proceeding with the procedure as soon as possible.”

Your hands grew clammy. This was it. You were going to be relieved from this grueling life you had found yourself in. You would finally be able to go back to normal.

Normal.

Would it truly be normal if you didn’t love Sanji anymore? Could you truly live with yourself knowing that you gave up the one thing that has been keeping you going? You guess you wouldn’t actually remember your love for him if you did the surgery but your heart would know. Your soul would know.

You wished that all of this pain would go away. Longing to run back to Sanji, for him to stop the anguish that you felt. To have him whisper that he loved you and for you to not cough up flowers anymore. To know that he truly meant the words that he was saying.

You wondered how your life would have gone if you had never fallen for Sanji. Would your life still lead you to this very moment of hell that you’re living currently? You would think that hell would be hot, blazing with heat, but all you felt was the coldness of lies that you believed that spewed from Sanji’s lips when he spoke to you.

You would like to think that you wished you had never fallen into this trap. That your heart never fell for him, but you knew better. You knew that he had your heart from the beginning. You were doomed from the first interaction.

Wasn’t it a true act of love if you could let the person go? Wouldn’t it be the final seal of approval of your love if you went through with the surgery? The love that you felt for Sanji would be proven by this simple act.

You felt Nami’s hand grab yours. Her eyes were filled with remorse, a sadness that you could distinguish as the same sadness that you saw in your eyes ever since that first petal came to be.

Anticipatory grief.

She was grieving your love for him already, grieving for your heart, how you would never love again, how you would never love him again.

You sigh.

♡‧₊˚

You wake up to the soft murmurs of the television in the corner of the room.

Your mind was hazy, from what, you weren't entirely sure yet. It felt as if you had lost something like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t think of exactly what it was.

Guess it wasn’t important.

Your eyes wander over to your surroundings, the hospital room is bare except for the basic, usual furniture. Your eye caught movement out of the corner of your eye, turning your face to examine what it was.

A balloon with the words “Get well soon!” fills your vision, and your gaze scans over the hearts that surround the bubble letters in bright yellow hues. You reach over the side table to grab the card that sat under the balloon.

Hope you feel better - Nami.

Sad that you had missed your friend, you made a mental note to pay her a visit after you were discharged from the hospital to thank her.

A soft knock echoed throughout the room, your attention to the door opening revealing the doctor. “Hi, glad you’re awake. The procedure was a success. You should be good to go soon, but take it easy for the next two weeks.”

The procedure.

You quickly scour your brain for answers of who it was you loved but came up short.

Guess that was the point, wasn’t it?

Before you could thank the doctor, rushed footsteps were heard outside the room, hasty knocks piercing the air along with the clamor of the door opening quickly.

Sanji’s blond hair comes into view, and he stands, wide-eyed, near the doorframe. He was panting slightly, a sign that he possibly had been running before he got here.

He says your name quietly, the doctor gives you a nod before excusing herself from the room to give you guys privacy.

“Sanji,” you smile brightly at him, “Did you get off of work? Why are you here?”

His eyes shift over to the balloon on the stand beside the bed. “Nami told me about the…procedure.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes teasingly, “It’s not that big of a deal honestly, that Nami. Always the worrier, thank you for visiting me though, you’re a good friend, Sanji.” You look away before you can notice Sanji’s face falling.

You look back at him, “Oh, could you take me home? I probably shouldn’t be driving right now.” you laugh quietly and scan Sanji’s face. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps he was really busy at the restaurant. “If you can, if not I’ll just call Nami.”

“No,” he clears his throat, “Yeah I can take you home.”

You offer him a smile, “Thanks, hey I think I may have to fill out some paperwork. Could you grab it while I go change?” You begin to stand up slowly before he rushes over to help you up.

You look up at him to thank him again when you realize his eyes are watering.

Weird.

Your eyebrows knit in worry, “Hey, are you okay?”

He blinks rapidly while looking away from you. His hand lets go from his grasp on your arm and runs it through his blonde hair while turning away from you. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he coughs, “Uh, I’m gonna go look for those papers.”

He walks out of the room before you can respond, leaving you slightly confused but you shake it off before you begin to look for your clothes.

You don’t see Sanji standing outside the doorway, coughing up a flower petal.

#astraariel♡#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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fabled-fiction · 1 year ago

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Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (Hobie Brown x Spider!Reader)

Summary: When Hobie hasn’t seen you in a while, he starts to come to the realization that he might be missing you for the wrong reasons. So when you come back, all those feelings reasons come bubbling up to the surface.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS

A/N: This kinda took a mind of its own, but I LOVED writing every second of it. Hope you enjoy it!! ☺️

Request by @its-me-ig-101: I was wondering if I could request for you to write a fluff Hobie Brown x GN reader, where the reader visits Hobie in his universe, or reverse? (Kind of like what Gwen does)

It had been 127 days since he last saw you,

14 since you last spoke.

It wasn’t like he was counting or anything. Nah…no he was completely able to be his own person. I mean, he had a whole Earth to protect as Spiderman.

But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think four months apart would take such a toll on him.

You both were just always together. It didn’t cross his mind that there could be more than two to three days of you being away…from him especially. Gwen always joked about how quickly you both became so close so quickly. How Hobie was usually a steel trap and you were the key.

And he couldn’t even visit you! You were away on Spider business! Miguel had you consistently going after anomalies. It didn’t help that you had an insanely good success rate. Hell! Hobie couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t catch one of the anomalies!

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon! This is the ultimate test before the big question! Will their relationship prevail over this unexpected test?!”

Pavitr placed his hand on his chest, spinning around before collapsing onto Hobie's bed, where he was currently lounging. His fingers fiddled with his watch, flicking through all the channels. Maybe if he clicked on the right one, he would end up on the Earth where you were. Miguel had stopped telling him what Earth you were visiting, knowing he would just tag along. But Hobie could come up with something on the fly, he didn’t give a damn at this point if Miguel was pissed at him for interrupting your mission.

He would like to see him try and keep you from him any longer at this point.

“Hello, Earth to Hobie. Hey!”

Catching the plush that Gwen had thrown at him, he huffed and sat up. Pav smiled when he caught a glimpse at Hobie’s watch, and the roulette wheel of universes were still going.

“ Dude, they’re fine! (Y/N) is like…an invincible spider.”

“You know why he’s being more quiet than usual! He’s realizing he’s in looove. Our Hobie is head over he-” A well shot pillow from Hobie landed Pavitr on the floor.

“Am I not allowed to miss a friend? I remember ‘ow upset you were whenever you’d talk ‘bout Miles.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. He smirked when he saw how red Gwen’s face got.

“Ooooh we’re starting to enter the grumpy Hobie stage!” Pav shot up into a sitting position, this time dodging the second pillow that he had thrown.

Scoffing, he waved his hand at them as he pulled his phone out of his pant pocket. Unlocking it, he scrolled through his photo album and sighed.

They always teased him like this when he was down in the dumps. It had just been more recent as of late, seeing as you were rising in the ranks. Meaning you were gone more and more.

That also meant your friendship was tested more and more. He had noticed the change, he wasn’t completely blind to his emotions. He had noticed that as of late whenever you were gone he got a bit more snippy, and a bit more cynical-well more cynical than usual. Some had even told him that his color seemed more drained the longer and longer you were away.

This time had just been the longest. But it was also the most eye opening.

It's odd how you don’t notice how consistent someone is in your life until they’re gone.

He was mindlessly scrolling with a thousand yard stare off into the distance, when his phone suddenly anchored him back to reality.

Specifically your text tone.

Flicking to his messages, he felt his heart rate pick up.

(Y/N): heey! im finally back!! i missed you (cry emoji) (heart emoji)

Before his head could reminisce on the heart emoji and brew up any meaning behind it, he heard Pav gasp. Quickly looking up from his phone, he saw Pav squeal in excitement and Gwen chuckle as she shook her head.

“Look at him G! Do you see how much brighter he is? Ugh! Our boy has it bad.”

Sliding off his bed, he grabbed his bag and mask. Both Gwen and Pavitr could see that there was some pep in his step as he slung the bag over his shoulder. Fastening his web shooters on, he slid his mask into his pocket before entering your Earth into his watch.

“Oh oh! Where you heading Hobie? Thought we were having some serious bro time!”

Flicking them off, Hobie felt the portal open below him. Glancing through, he could see the flickering lights of your Earth.

“Piss off.”

Jumping through the portal, Hobie braced himself as he felt a quick rush before landing on your bed. The flickering and crackling of the portal remained only for a second before it snapped shut, dropping everything in the room along with its departure.

You stood in the opposite corner of the room, barely even unpacked. Your bag sat at the foot of your desk, unzipped with some of your clothes spilling out. You must’ve just texted him, because you were still in your spider suit…with one of his jumpers on.

Turning around, a smile spread across your face in an instant. Whatever you were doing was soon abandoned as you ran towards him. He was quick to stand, enveloping you in his frame. Feeling your aura mix with his, as he buried his nose into your hair felt nice. It awoke whatever nerves that had gone into hibernation after your departure, activating his senses once more.

Because he became highly aware of how right when you entered his arm, the hairs on yours stood under your suit. Your heart rate calmed but also picked up. Hell, he could even feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you buried your head into his chest.

“You really did miss me aye?” He teased, pulling you back by your shoulders to get a good look at his face.

“Mmm, only like…thiiiiiiis much.” Holding up two fingers, he watched as you held them close together and very very slowly pulled them apart.

“Oh wow, and here I was in absolute agony.” He hummed, sitting on the edge of your windowsill.

“Oh really?” You laugh, leaning over him. He looked up at you, nodding as he placed his hands in his pocket.

“Absolutely, almost died.”

Watching you laugh was something he knew he needed. It wasn’t too hard, at least for him. Your back and forth quips and teases were something that usually ended in you laughing or him chuckling. Inside jokes and knowing stares were usually exchanged to test the waters whenever others were around. It happened so often people usually felt excluded whenever you were both in each other's presence.

It was something he didn’t know he could miss.

“Wanna go for a swing?”

Watching the way your eyes lit up, he knew he had his answer.

Slipping his mask on, he was quick to open your window. He knew you were right behind him as he swung into action.

This was a dance you both did whenever you visited his world, swinging between buildings and each other. Finding ways to play off the others webbing and moves.

He loved watching you swing and flip. Hearing you laugh as you gave him a heart attack with how close you’d like to fall before yanking yourself back up into the air.

He felt a rush of similar emotions in the two weeks of you going dark. Whenever it was just him alone in his room, his mind would wander. He knew that if anything had happened he would have been the first told, both a blessing and a curse. But it still didn’t stop him from…worrying.

When did his worry for you become such a crutch?

Reaching to your normal hang out, what was atop your Statue of Liberty (which was still bronze here on your earth), both of you sat atop her torch. With shoulders touching, he watched as you leaned back and looked at your city.

“So, how many anomalies did you catch on this little spree of yours?”

With a big sigh you ripped your mask off and stuffed it into your-no, his jacket pocket. Bringing a knee to your chest you placed your cheek on it as you looked at him.

“Twelve. Probably the most in a row.”

Tisking, he leaned back on his hands now as he also took his mask off.

“Wow, remember which ones?”

“Most of them were Vultures. They were the only ones that could reach the portals that opened in their respective worlds. I might as Miguel if I can take a break though.”

That piqued his interest. But he didn’t show a reaction, in fact he just hummed and watched as you put your forehead to rest on your knees.

“I appreciate how much Miguel…trusts me to keep the multiverse intact, I really do. I went through hell with his stupid tests in order to get into the Spider Society and its…its lead me to meet some of my favorite people but recently I've been more Spider than Person…”

Hobie sat up now, putting his elbows on his knees and smirking. He knew what you needed to hear in this moment. He knew you like the back of his hand, in the year that you two have gotten to know each other it is safe to say he almost knows you better than he knows himself. The same could probably be said about you knowing him.

“Favorite people aye? Where do I fall on that list?”

Watching you lift your head to give him a quick glance, a small smile graced your lips before you lifted your head fully to clear your throat.

“Atleast top…let's say ten? There's a lot of competition BB.” You chuckle

“Oh yea? That jumper you’re wearing says otherwise.”

Your eyes grew almost as wide as the lenses on your mask as you looked down. Your hands gripped the edge of the jacket for a moment before shoving into the pockets.

“Oh I uh…yea I dunno what to say…”

The gears were turning in your head, he could tell. Something was brewing.

“..y’know I didn’t even realize I had packed this until I was subconsciously putting it on the first night. I'm being dead serious when I tell you I only ever took it off whenever I was about to go into battle…I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

He smiled to himself listening to your words. Something similar to what was brewing in your head was brewing in his chest.

These past few months, more specifically the past two weeks where you couldn’t contact him, there was a confession building. Words that were just waiting in the dark until he was at his most vulnerable to come into the light were bubbling up in his throat. The only thing keeping them from spilling right at this very moment was the seal of his lips.

It was nice, having you back. But all these realizations that he was having just in these last few days, especially now in these moments he was sharing with you, told him all he needed to know.

Especially with those words that you had just said to him, he knew his realization was not far from out of the blue.

“ Y’know those two weeks were you went dark were ‘ell. Pav and Gwendy were up my arse the entire time. It irked me how well they read me those two weeks..”

Watching you grow still and turn towards him, and sighed before turning towards you as well.

“I'm sorry about that Hobbie…my communicator died and Miguel told me I wasn’t allowed a new one until I finished my assignment. Which made everything so much harder to do since I had to wait for texts from Lyla and code instead of her just being able to talk me through it.”

“I knew it ‘ad to be somethin outta your control…and I also had a keepsake that ‘elped me keep my cool.”

Pulling back his cuffs, an array of bracelets both woven and made were on both of his wrists. They were all yours, but ones you hadn’t seen in a while and ones you were sure you had left on your desk before you had left.

What he couldn’t show you was the shirt he had of yours that was also on his pillow. He had it for the same reason he was sure you had his jacket for the entire trip…

Though it was starting to lose your scent.

There was a comfortable silence, at least he hoped there was. He could barely tell based off the thumping of his heart…

When he finally made eye contact with you, he saw a dopey smile on your face. It made him smile too. No matter how long you two were apart, no matter how raw the two of you got it never changed anything.

Well, he hoped nothing would change after what he was about to do.

Hobie wasn’t scared of a lot, practically nothing. But you scared the ever loving shit out of him. Both with all the stunts that you pulled and just the way you made him feel. He used to be this hardass corruptor but now? He wasn’t sure what he was without you.

“Hey Hobie..”

“Yea?”

“You should totally kiss me right now.”

“Yup.”

His hand fit perfectly on the crook of your neck, and so did his lips with yours.

Whatever you were feeling spilled into him, and he with you. A full year's worth of pent up emotion exploded into the kiss as he seemingly took your breath away. In recent months he could only imagine how your lips would feel against his, but it was nothing compared to what he was experiencing right now. Yours and his molded together in a flurry of silken passion, fitting together perfectly just like he knew they would.

Your hands found their place resting on his cheeks, just as his found theirs. With one resting on your neck and the other finding its way onto your side to pull you close. So close that he could feel the drum of your heart match his when your chests collided.

He wanted to curse whatever being made it so that the human body needed oxygen. When you pulled away his lips followed yours in chase, and it wasn’t until you held his face in place so that your bruised lips could take in a breath. Your finger ran over his bottom lip, playing with his lip ring as he panted in time with you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that…how..how being away from you for so long made me realize that's all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“I ‘ave an idea.”

His hand that rested on the edge of your neck came around to hold your throat, with his fingers resting on your pulse.

It was going a mile a minute just like his.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #x reader #across the spiderverse #marvel x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #into the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk #spider!reader

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stsgluver · 11 months ago

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synopsis. gojo satoru always wins.

wc. 880

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, spoilers for 236, possible spelling mistakes I have not proofread this (do I ever?)

a/n. currently clearing out all my old wips. i've already written this in a different version I think but idc bc if i write about him coming home enough times he will eventually do it. my next few works are probs going to be my rich boy!gojo drafts

there was a brief moment when the world stilled. the air was squeezed from your lungs as everything around you slowly began to spin and you weren’t sure the last time you had slept – had it been that long that the hallucinations were finally starting to kick in?

“oh my god.” those were the only words you could utter in your state of disbelief. you couldn’t close your eyes: you couldn’t risk him disappearing. if you were brave enough, you’d reach out to trace the new scars carved into his porcelain skin.

“you can’t say that, you know how my ego is,” gojo looked as gorgeous as ever, arm raised as he leant against the doorframe of his apartment. the same apartment you’d set up camp in nineteen days ago and had only left when yuuji brought you some food. you’d lost too much to process and you were a shell of the person gojo had kissed goodbye to before he left for shibuya. there were deep purple bags under your eyes, your hair was loosely tied back in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been properly washed or brushed in several days and your clothes were probably just gojo’s – you’d been desperate for some sense of familiarity.

he looked like he hadn’t just been sealed away in another realm. the only evidence of a struggle were his new scars that seemed to decorate every inch of available skin, beyond that he looked excited to be alive, his fitted clothes clinging to him. his cursed energy was terrifyingly immense and you knew him well enough to know he was still riding off of a high that came with fighting for him.

you were scared to ask who had been the opponent – never would the world’s strongest sorcerer be injured and not cause equal amounts of harm in return. he had a title to uphold after all, something to prove.

“not even a hello?” he shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he tsked you. he was so casual in his mannerisms, playing it all off as though he hadn’t spent what felt like an eternity counting down the seconds so that he could see you again. “you can’t have forgotten me that quickly.” he was practically whining now, desperate for the love and warmth you gave him but not daring to cross the threshold and smother you.

you weren’t a sorcerer and though you understood some of his world, there was so much more that you didn’t. gojo would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared that one day it would be too overwhelming for you and you’d leave him like everyone else had.

so he did what he did best: masked his insecurities with a sarcastic humour that held no bite: “don’t tell me there’s another man in the house.”

you smiled, and blinked, and you were suddenly here again; in the moment with him and not a thousand miles away wondering what the hell he’d been through. a lone tear slipped down your cheek and gojo ached to wipe it away.

“are you… are you real?” your voice was still shaky and if it wasn’t for the complete silence, you doubted that he would’ve been able to hear you.

but he did, and then his arm is up against the doorframe again and he was gesturing to his physique as he complimented himself, “super powerful, mega rich and dashingly handsome? i know how perfect i may seem but i’m very real.” he winked and suddenly it was like you remembered that you have free will, practically jumping into his arms.

gojo wasn’t phased as he tucked you tightly into his body, his cursed technique completely dropped for the first time in what felt like forever. his body breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles ached.

“you’re such a jackass,” you lifted up your head to rest against his chest, eyes shining with tears that didn't fall.

gojo nodded slowly, brushing back the loose strands of your hair as he stared at you adoringly, “you love me.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, taking a step back from his longing arms to look up at him through your lashes. “y’know,” you traced a finger across the material on his chest, “you could make it up to me by closing your eyes.” his breath hitched ever so slightly under your touch. you leant in so that your lips almost touched his ear, “i need to kick my boytoy out. things could get kinda awkward if you two saw each other.”

it would be easier to list the things gojo wouldn’t do for you. he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, even going as far as to hold a hand over them. “how pretty is he on a scale of 1-10?”

there was a pause before you responded, as you took in every inch of the man that stood before you. a god in a mortal’s body. one that lived and breathed and worshipped you. “he’s gorgeous,” you whispered, breathless simply from his existence alone. and then he’s smiling and laughing and picking you up, spinning you in a circle and telling you how much he loves you and for a few brief seconds he’s just satoru and you’re just his.

#gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo drabbles #jjk gojo #jjk 236 #jjk spoilers #gojo imagines #gojo fluff #satoru

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kaylopolis · 4 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Thirteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Lots of historical stuff happening, but don't worry, I have little endnotes explaining each with links to more information at the end of the chapter!

Spoiler Warning: Be careful if you flip between the end to read the notes as you read the chapter. There is a major spoiler at the end of the chapter you might accidentally read!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Thirteen - The Truth

Content Warning: Spoilers after the end of the chapter; mentions of physical and psychological abuse, panic attack (let me know if I missed any!) MINORS DNI!!!!!

(107 years ago, Heaven)

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Enter,” the Seraphim’s voice called from behind the wood.

Your head held high, your shoulders squared, you entered your father’s office. The sword strapped to your side knocked against your hip as you walked. Although you wore your casual blue robes and not your metal armor, the sword never left your side. You tucked your golden wings in, your blonde hair cut short to frame your face, the wisps of your bangs barely brushing your collarbones.

Stopping before Father’s desk, you nodded to the others in the room in greeting: Adam, the Seraphim, and a few of Father’s personal guards who filed out of the room after you entered.

“Father,” you stated, waiting for him to begin.

From a worldwide flood to raining frogs in Egypt, a meeting in this office always meant serious business. After all, out of all your siblings, you were the most trustworthy. “Father’s Golden Girl,” they all called you - and not just because of your looks. You were his warrior, his right-hand man, his perpetrator of action. You carried out God’s will.

“You are aware of the current events of Earth,” a statement, not a question.

It was January 1917. The mortals were in the middle of a war to end all wars. Who didn’t know?

“Just yesterday, our Ishim delegates intercepted a telegram from Arthur Zimmerman to the Mexican Government proposing an alliance between Germany and Mexico to invade the United States.*” Sera slid a piece of paper across the desk. You glanced at it but didn’t give it much thought.

The Ishim were low-level Angels, more human than divinity, really. They carried out more menial endeavors. Father dispatched a hundred to Earth a year before the war broke out. Why? You weren’t sure, but you were about to find out.

“This war is the mortal’s problem, is it not?” You asked.

Adam caught your eye from the corner of the room he stood in, his usual cockiness replaced with… you sniffed. Guilt?

“Not anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“We believe this telegram was sent by Eve.”

You took a step back, clenching your jaw shut to prevent it from falling open. Instinctively, your hand found the hilt of your sword. “She escaped?” You looked at Adam, but he didn’t look back, his gaze downcast as a wave of emotions weighed down his shoulders.

“Some years ago, yes,” Sera answered.

But why didn’t they… Oh, they couldn’t have sent you right away. No one knew she had escaped, and they weren’t about to let it get out that the evil Evelyn of Eden had bested Heaven’s topmost security prison. Technically, it was the only one Heaven had, and it only had one prisoner, but still. Especially after the whole Lucifer and Lilith incident. Rumor had it they were in love.

You eye the telegram on the desk. “What do you need from me?”

Wouldn’t be the first time you hunted down a human. Cain went into hiding after he murdered Abel. You found him not long after - even with the magic he used to conceal himself from you.

“Find Evelyn and bring her back.”

You nodded, taking the telegram. It smelled of roses, how fitting for the Second Lady of Eden.

“Mikaela,” Father called after you. You paused. “Do not disappoint me.”

You nodded before shutting the door behind you.

Time to go to work.

____________________________________________

(1917, Russia)

This tux was killing you. It was itchy, it was hot, and more importantly, it was suffocating. You didn't have much time to find a suit that fitted, so you grabbed whatever the tailor had. Unfortunately for you, the collar was way too tight, and it constantly rubbed against the injury on your neck.

The music echoed off the ridiculously decorated walls of the Palace. Gosh, you did not enjoy the pianoforte. It was like the instrument was screaming every time one of the strings was plucked.

Just find her and get out. You've been chasing her nearly a year and this was as close as you had gotten to capturing her. Eve was slippery...

You pushed through the crowd, making your way around the dancefloor.

"Шампанское, сэр. Champagne, sir?" A servant thrusted a tray in front of your face. You turned up your nose and pushed onwards.

Ugh, alcohol, you've never touched the stuff.

Sniffing, you could smell the roses. The room was filled with the scent of them, the aroma so pungent you could reach out and touch it. So, she was here, but where exactly?

Making your way to the front of the room, you stopped when you finally spotted her. "What is she doing?" You asked yourself.

Evelyn, her brown hair done up in a mass of stacked curls atop her head, was whispering in the ear of the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. The feather sticking out of her hair wiggled as she laughed.

What is the Second Woman doing playing fairytale at a royal Russian Ball? She even had the dress to go along with it all.

Whatever, all you had to do was grab her and get out.

You pulled your sword from the Void and took a step forward - wait, no. You couldn't work like this. Ripping off the bowtie, you undo the top two buttons, freeing your neck. You rubbed at the black and blue bruises, the action soothing but also painful.

Okay, let's do this.

"У него есть меч! Он собирается попытаться убить царя! He's got a sword! He's going to try and kill the Tsar!" A woman screamed.

Oh, crap. Last time you were down here, everyone carried a sword. Now, nearly two thousand years later, they don't seem to like it so much... Oops.

The room plunged into chaos.

Briefly, you made eye contact with Evelyn. Her brown eyes flashed with confusion before they changed to recognition and then acknowledgment - she recognized you and knew why you were there. Evelyn smiled, mouthing the words, "Hello, Mikaela," before she disappeared into the crowd.

You tried to follow, but you were tackled by a guard. The sword went flying out of your hand as you hit the ground, a bear of a man sitting on top of you.

Great... You were hoping this was going to be an easy in-and-out type of mission...

Pushing the man easily off of you and collecting your sword. Shoving it back into the Void, you huffed, blowing the hair out of your face. You had cut it so short that the seamstress laughed when you walked into the boutique shopping for a dress. She thought you were a man. You’d be mad but, it wasn’t the first time humanity has made that mistake.

Jesus' Disciples named you "Michael" instead of "Mikaela." Ever since then, humanity thought you were a man. It was kind of insulting when you read the first draft and a little sexist...

Alright, let's get out of here and see if we can track her down.

A wall of guards stepped into your path before you could make much progress.

You groaned. It was going to be a long night...

____________________________________________

(1923, Chicago)

“Another?” The bartender asked. You nodded and watched as she poured you a glass of soda water and lemon. Taking a long sip, letting the bubbles dance across your tongue, you went back to twirling your glass.

“You sure you don’t want anything else to drink? Any alcohol?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Not one for the taste, I’m afraid.”

She finally let you be, busying herself with dirty glasses.

You were growing restless on the barstool, the smoke from the cigarettes giving you a headache. Drinking in public for women was scandalous in this day and age - even though you technically weren’t drinking, you were a woman alone at a bar - and you had caught your fair share of male attention. You broke the last bloke’s finger, and the men finally got the message. The bar girl let it slide - she most likely has her own history with the opposite sex that paled in comparison to yours.

But this wasn’t just any old bar, and you were hoping that, eventually, word of your presence here would attract a different kind of attention.

The aroma of roses hit you before her voice did.

“This seat taken?”

Right on schedule.

“Not at all, Evelyn,” you motioned to the stool. “Please.”

The brunette settled in next to you, her iconic brunette hair chopped and curled around her face. Other than that, she looked exactly the same as you left her, save for the wardrobe change - a string of pearls and a grey silk dress that left her ankles exposed. She was always a fashion rebel, pushing the iconic clothing of the decades to the point of scandal. Speaking of, you tried hard not to look at her cleavage - it would take another few decades before that became appropriate in public.

“Please, call me Eve. To what do I owe the honor?” She sang as the bar girl poured her a gin and tonic.

“Come back,” you ordered.

She huffed, “Oh, come on. This is the first proper conversation you and I have ever had, don’t bore me with the self-righteous bullshit propaganda your father feeds you.”

You've been chasing her for six years now. Every time you met, it was all action before she slipped away. How she managed to disappear every time, you didn't know.

She stirred the ice around in her glass before gulping down the entire drink. “You and I both know I am not going back willingly.”

You had to give her the option.

“You’re going back either way.”

“I want you to meet someone,” she smiled, changing the subject. “Al!” Eve waived to a rather portly man at the back of the establishment. The mortal was dressed to the nines in a blue pinstriped suit and accompanying fedora.

“Hey, dollface,” the gentleman kissed Eve on the cheek before taking his hat off and tipping it in greeting. “Pleased'ta meet��ya miss, Al Capone at your service."

Ugh.

You stood, grabbing Eve’s upper arm as you attempted to lug her towards the main entrance. The motion sent a sharp pain through your bruised shoulder. “Let’s go,” you winced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Eve giggled. The sclera of her eyes flashed black before she turned back to the bar and screamed. “Al! She’s with the fuzz!”

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The echoes of guns loading rang out across the bar.

Fucking Mafia.

You didn’t drop Eve’s arm.

“We can do this the easy way, toots, or the hard way,” Al said, holding a pistol to your face. Despite being no taller than you, he did his best to look threatening.

“Between you and me,” Eve leaned in and whispered. “I’m pretty sure the fat one’s got syphilis.” She motioned to Capone.

Why, Eve? Why was that important right now?

She giggled before pulling out an extremely small pistol from her cleavage. The Angel pointed it at your head. You held your hands up as if feigning surrender. “That won’t kill me, Eve.”

“I know,” she laughed, smiling wildly.

Was this fun for her?

“But it'll kill them,” she motioned to a random man before turning and shooting him straight in the face.

The bar plunged into chaos as you ducked for cover. Rolling your eyes, you mumbled beneath your breath, “The hard way it is.”

____________________________________________

(1937 Lae, New Guinea)

You rolled open the hangar doors. It was late, well past midnight. An oil lantern hung from a mobile post, illuminating the opened engine of a two-seater plane.

Ensuring your sword was strapped to your side, you trudged inside, cautiously approaching the single soul inside. As per usual, the room smelled of roses.

You were but one step in the door when Eve called out, “Mikaela!” Her head popped out from behind the engine. “Good to see you! Been a while, hasn’t it? Chicago, good times.” She dove back inside the engine, half her body sticking out of the contraption. A blue tarp had been laid at her feet, to capture oil as she worked, you assumed.

“You shot up a bar, nearly set it on fire, and almost burned the city to the ground - again… I wouldn’t exactly call that fun.” Keeping your distance, you circled around to the front of the plane. You had better chances of catching the plague than predicting her next move. Eve was wildly unpredictable.

“Oh, my friend,” her sclera flashed black as she smiled over her shoulder. “Chaos is always fun.”

“Why are you doing this, Eve?” And more importantly, what was she doing?

“Can’t a girl love power and chaos with absolutely no motive?” She played dumb, her voice echoing from within the metal compartment.

You crossed your arms, your silence communicating that she had asked a dumb question.

“I’m sick and tired of Heaven, of them always telling me who I am and what to do.” She shrugged, ripping out a piece of the engine. “I’m taking it back.”

“Stop messing around with the airplane, Eve.” You felt like you were scolding a child.

She paused, a metal component in her hand, oil coating her fingers, as she backed out of the engine. Eve waived the metal part around as she spoke. “Aren’t you sick of being their puppet? Of… Of being a part of their machine? Of being told to jump and asking how high?” Grabbing a brown saddle bag, she stuffed the components inside, the tarp crunching beneath her feet.

Oh good, she was sabotaging the plane. Great. You didn’t know why she did half the things she did, but sabotaging Amelia Earhart’s plane? Just... Why? What did that accomplish?

“I’m an Archangel - a soldier - and soldiers follow orders,” you responded, watching Eve clean the oil off her hands.

“And if they don’t?” She raised an eyebrow, motioning to your wrist.

As if on instinct, you tugged on your sleeves to hide the bruises.

“Adam was a dick,” she continued, “but he never touched me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you felt the blood drain from your face.

She sighed as she got to her feet. You watched the conflict play out on her face. Did she push the topic? Did she change it completely?

"Do you know how they caught me the first time?” she smiled.

“Adam.” You answered, your eyes following her every move. She was planning to bolt. You could feel it. She wouldn't get away this time.

“They used him as bait,” she grabbed her satchel and threw the loop over her head. “And trapped me in a Pentagram.” Eve kicked the edge of the blue tarp beneath your feet to reveal the edge of a chalk line.

She was smart; she kept you distracted and annoyed just enough to keep your eyes off the floor to the lightly drawn star and circle hidden beneath your feet.

Here's the thing about being a General. You knew how to organize armies, how to train soldiers to fight, how to strategize on a battlefield. You were not a covert spy trained to track down rogue Angels. Sure, you went after Cain, but he was sloppy. Despite going to the Goetia and bargaining his soul for a bit of magic to hide him from you, he left a trail for you to follow. All you had to do was hunt down the Goetia he talked to, and, presto, you had a lead.

Eve wasn't really trying to hide. If she was, she'd have found a way to hide the potency of her power: roses, her magic smelled like roses. You could scent it miles away. The downside to chasing Eve was that she was unpredictable. Her moves didn't make any sense or have any logic to them. She was scattered with her actions. Map it out on a battlefield, and it would seem like random nonsense. There was logic to war but not to Eve. Which made it hard to capture her.

Like trying to trap lightning in a bottle.

“Tootle-loo, Mikaela,” Eve sang. The Angel skipped to the hangar doorway, stopping before she closed it. Something flashed in her eyes. Sadness? Pity? Worry? “Don’t be a stranger,” she smiled softly, and then she slammed the door shut.

____________________________________________

(1945, Germany)

The sirens were deafening as you rounded corner after corner, your fire illuminating the tunnels as you ran.

“Come on, come on,” you huffed, out of breath. You’ve been sprinting through battlefields all night long to make it here before the Russian army, but you were cutting it dangerously close.

BANG! The echoes of a gunshot had your ears ringing as you emerged into a well-lit bunker. A dead body lay at Eve’s feet, scarlet pooling beneath it. Another - a woman - sat slumped at a table in a pile of vomit.

Gross.

“Oh, hey!” She lit up, her brunette curls bobbing.

You sidestepped the blood, trying to catch your breath, “Eve, this is getting old.” You were quickly finding out the Angel had a proclivity for violence - specifically guns. What was with her and modern weaponry?

She did a double take, not of the man moaning on the ground, but of your face. You ignored her questioning look, choosing to bend over and suck down gulps of air. It wasn’t that the running took a lot out of you. By golly, you could run days before getting tired, go weeks without food, go months without water, but broken ribs always made it hard to breathe.

Her happy demeanor turned down a few notches as she holstered the gun. “Hey,” she put a hand on your back in comfort.

You shoved her off.

You did not need her pity.

Eve blinked. “Why don’t we head up top and get some fresh air?”

The Russians were expecting to arrive at any minute, they’d most likely bomb the crap out of this place and bury the two of you alive. You nodded, wincing as you stood.

Eve led you out of a secret tunnel hidden behind boxes of supplies. You followed behind her, summoning your sword as support as you limped to the surface. Ugh, your ankle was so swollen.

Eve pushed open a wooden door, leading you into the morning sunlight. The two of you emerged at the edge of a small lake. The sun was rising over the water, the ruins of Berlin surrounding the park.

Eve sat at the edge of the water, watching the sun rise as armies marched and chanted toward the Capitol behind you. The dichotomy was iconic.

You looked between her and the sword and made a silent decision.

Slipping your sword back into the Void, you joined Eve in the grass - wincing as you sat.

“Germany wasn’t my doing. I just wanted to make that very clear,” she laughed awkwardly. “I’m only here because I wanted to end the bastard myself…” Her voice trailed off, the tension becoming… weird.

You could feel her staring at your split lip and black eye.

“Why?” You asked.

She huffed, turning towards the sun, bathing in its morning warmth, “Because fuck heaven and fuck their design.”

“People are dying because of you, Eve.” You gritted.

“So?” She scoffed. “People are always going to die, more will be made. Either they go to Heaven, or they go to Hell. There’s life after this, so not like I’m robbing them of anything. Besides, they’re nothing but puppets fulfilling some predetermined mapped-out plan Daddy designed. Regardless of their free will, they're powerless to fate. They're just machine parts, Mikaela. Just like you and I were designed to be.”

She huffed. “I mean, look at me. I was literally created from Adam’s rib - designed to be the perfect little wife. That’s all I am. That’s all Dad made me to be. I’m changing that!”

“By messing with Father’s design?”

She nods.

“And you do this how?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion, choosing to humor her behavior.

“The Book of Knowledge.”

You laughed, “The book Lucifer stole and then gave you?”

She nodded.

“Why not use it to do good?”

“Because who the fuck cares if I do good? I mean, if I save a few hundred lives or help further a society what does that really accomplish? I’m only further giving in to God’s will. He wants them to succeed, to become better. It’s all a game, Mikaela, don’t you see that? I mean look at this!” She gestured to all of Berlin. “What kind of fucked up, power-hungry arsehole allows this to happen!? Just so humans can rise from the darkest moments of history, to learn and become better than they were before. All this to teach them a lesson!? I mean… Wow.”

You shut your mouth. She had a point. This was messed up.

The two of you sat for a long while, the orchestra of war playing in the background.

Eve’s demeanor changes. “I saw the bruises in Russia.” Her words were sharp.

Your blood ran cold.

“At first, I thought they were just from training, but then why would a soldier have bruises around their throat from training?”

Please don’t go there, Eve. Her rants about Father you could handle, not this. You didn’t deal with personal emotions, you bottled them up and shoved them deep down and quietly forgot about them - like a good soldier.

“They talk, the guards in the prison. I’ve heard the rumors of Dad’s Golden Girl and her mysterious injuries, of the screams behind closed doors. So, in Chicago, I looked again. You had bruises on your shoulder.”

You shot her a questioning glance.

“When you grabbed me part of your dress slipped just a bit… Mikaela, they looked like hand prints.”

You turned away from her, pulling in your knees and hugging yourself.

“So in New Guinea, I tested my theory. Your reaction told me everything.”

Were you that easy to read?

Eve turned to you then, clearly eyeing the bruises on your face. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer.

“I don’t know how you do it. To obey his every command for thousands of years… You, out of all of us, have a right to be pissed.”

“It’s my job,” you gritted, your hands were shaking, all emotion absent from your voice. “Besides, my failures are my own fault.”

“What?” Eve jumped to her feet. “How could you say that!? You don’t ask to be beaten. You don’t ask to have your bones broken and your face bloodied!?”

“My failures are my own fault,” Your entire body was shaking now, your voice cracking.

“Mikaela…” Eve planted herself on the grass next to you. Bombs exploded off in the distance, cheering echoing off the buildings. The Russians have arrived.

“My fault.” You whispered, the words imprinted on your brain like ink on paper. “My fault. My fault. My…”

Eve brought you into a bear hug, holding you as tight as she could as the panic attack overcame you. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

You sobbed.

"Listen to me - no one ever deserves to be abused, and it is never your fault. Abuse is a deliberate, cruel choice made by the abuser, and it is entirely on them. You are a strong, beautiful woman deserving of respect and love. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Eve turned you to face her. “Say it, Mikaela. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” Her words were sharp and to the point, trying to jam the message into your mind. To cut out the toxic and replace it with the new.

“It is…” You choked. “It is not my fault.” You cried.

“Louder!” She demanded.

“It is not my fault,” you repeated, your voice shaky.

“Louder!”

“It is not my fault!” You screamed.

“It is not your fault!” She echoed.

And you hugged her back.

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

“You turned against Heaven and joined, Eve?” Alastor asked. He’s been eerily silent the entire time.

You smiled, your yellow irises glinting mischievously. “I joined, Eve.”

The demon summoned his own chair and settled in next to you. Together, you stared off at the silhouette of Pentagram City, its lights shining like beacons into the red sky.

“We spent the next thirty-something years traveling. London, Korea, Russia - we went everywhere, sowing seeds of chaos in our wake. She started me on the little stuff, and I worked my way up from there. From swearing and alcohol to stealing and, eventually, murder. Eve was like a gateway drug; just once wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but it was enough to get you hooked. And, somewhere in that time, Eve became my friend.”

You sighed, your eyes swimming in memories. “But, like any drug, at some point in time, it isn’t enough anymore. You need more to keep going, to stay satisfied…”

____________________________________________

(1974, London)

DING!

“Order up!” The chef behind the counter yelled.

SLURP! You found the bottom of your milkshake. “Fuck,” you cried. “I’m out.”

The two of you, after an extremely long plane ride from America, stopped at a lunch counter for a quick snack.

The time in between master plans was always your favorite but also your most hated. It meant a time of scheming, of plotting something new and exciting, but it was also a time when Eve tended to channel her energy into other matters. Most notably sex, drugs, and music. It's like she needed an outlet for her restless energy.

You put your newspaper down, the title reading "Nixon Resigns!" and turned to Eve. The brunette wasn’t paying attention, her mind on the cute human boy sitting at the end of the counter.

You analyzed her as she daydreamed. The itch was there again, the temptation to bring up what you’ve been keeping silent on for so long.

Eve was fine with toying about on Earth. You didn’t blame her; she’d been locked up for so long, and all she wanted to do was live and do as she pleased, but frankly, you were growing bored. Sure fucking around with the humans was entertaining, but the fact of the matter was you accomplished nothing from it.

Eve believed she was messing with Dad’s grand creation, but if you paid attention, Heaven found a way to fix everything she undid. After all of her meddling, things always returned to normal: war ended, economies stabilized, rulers were replaced, and laws were rewritten. Anything Eve ever did was fixed. And that was starting to bother you.

You wanted bigger. You wanted more. You wanted permanent. And you had an idea to make it happen.

“Eve,” you lightly tapped her hand. Dreamily, she turned to you.

“Oh, you’re done already?” She pouted.

“Yeah… Listen,” you cleared your throat, preparing your speech. “I want to propose a field trip. Maybe a change in scenery?”

Eve blinked. “A change in scenery? What’s wrong with the scenery here?” She motioned to the cute British boy, her voice a little too loud for comfort.

“Nothing! Nothing! I just…” You hesitated. You needed a hook, a reason to get Eve interested.

The truth was, you tried broaching this topic before, but she always blew it off. Eve was content. You were not. She didn’t want a change in the status quo - you were growing bored of the status quo.

So, this time, you were going to baby-step her into your plan - turn her opinion around. Perhaps, help her see the fun she could have by finally doing something your way for once.

“There’s this festival I’ve always wanted to go to,” you suggest. “Lot’s of cute boys. There will be music, dancing, drinking… It’ll be a good time!”

“A festival,” she lit up. “Sounds fun!”

“Cool. Cool… It’s in Wrath.”

She choked, “What!?”

“I know, it’s in Hell, but can we just check it out? If you hate it, we can leave right away. I just… I’ve never been. I thought maybe it would be a new adventure for us?” You shrug.

Eve thinks a moment.

“Plus, we’d be breaking so many rules. Angels aren’t allowed in Hell, after all…”

“Done.” She stands. “Let’s go!” Eve grabs your arm and pulls you out of the restaurant.

In a side alley, you summon a portal and are whisked away into what you would look back on and consider to be the beginning of the end.

____________________________________________

(7 years ago, Pride Ring, Hell)

"I'll be there momentarily, Al," Lilith hung up the phone as you entered the room. "Mikaela, Eve," she greeted.

You step into the office and close the door behind you. “Lilith,” you nod to her in greeting.

Your plan worked. Eve and you spent the better part of nearly fifty years partying your way through the Rings of Hell. It started in Wrath with the Harvest Moon Festival - Eve enjoyed the Pain Games far more than you expected - and resulted in a series of debauchery moving up from there.

You hadn't really spent time in Pride - you've had enough of mortals and their petty problems for a good while. However, your next plan - the ultimate plan - required you to be here.

Nearly 50 fucking years... It took you that long to convince Eve of your plan... and to make it seem like it was her idea. You had discovered that, yes, Eve was a schemer, but her plans were always limited in their size. You were thinking bigger.

This was your third meeting with Lilith and if everything went to plan, it would be your last.

The Queen of Hell stood next to the window, the view overlooking Pentagram City. She didn't want to meet at her home - understandable - which was tucked away in a pocket dimension. So, you met here, at her... office? I guess if you want to call it that, sure. It was an office in the City.

Even took a seat on the desk, her fingers rummaging through everything and anything set before her. "Awww," she grabbed a photo. "The three of you are so cute!"

You tried not to groan. "Eve..."

"Sorry," she dropped the frame, pulling her hands into her lap like a scolded child. The Second Woman turned on her charm before addressing existence's First. "Are we ready?"

Lilith continued to stare out the window, her eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. Her horns looked rather shiny today, her purple dress perfectly pressed - she dressed for the occasion. The woman smoothed her dress, a nervous habit of hers. The Queen turned to you, her plum eyeshadow sparkling in the light. "Yes."

In a flash, you had Eve pinned to the floor, your hands wrapped around her throat.

Confusion swam in her eyes as you squeezed. "Mikaela?" She choked out.

Lilith leaned over. Making eye contact, the First Woman commanded, "Do not move. Do not fight back."

And Eve froze.

The power of Lilith's voice... It's what makes her singing abilities so powerful; it's how she convinces the masses and rules over Hell so easily.

"I'm sorry, Eve, but I can't have you holding me back any longer."

Confusion turned to fear as you channeled your fire into your hands and began to burn - Holy Fire. You've killed members of the Angelic kind before - mostly lower-level Angels prone to corruption, like the Ishim. It was easy to erase lesser beings, and surprisingly, it was easier to take down Eve than you originally thought. Especially considering she never thought you turning against her was a possibility.

Eve screamed as she died, and when her body was nearly ash, you were left with not a soul before you but the physical embodiment of power: a book. not just any book, but the book. It was ethereal and partially incorporeal as you collected it in your hands.

"Having second thoughts?" Lilith asked.

"No," you immediately responded. "No, just... I've been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than when I originally approached you and proposed the idea. Now it's finally here... It doesn't feel real."

(In hindsight, this wasn't just one of the hardest decisions you had ever made but a defining moment that had left a mark on your very being. If you were willing to kill one of the most important people in your life, what else wouldn't you do?

So, no, dear reader, you did not tell Alastor how much this killed you. You did not tell Alastor how much you cried. You did not tell him the real reason why you needed music to sleep at night was not because the screaming disturbed you but because when you fell asleep, those screams morphed into that of Eve's.

There would be a day, however, when you told the Radio Demon how much this hurt, and he would see you cry and completely fall apart. A day when you would broach this topic and eventually heal this ugly part of you.

But - as we all learned from the Full Moon episode - years of trauma does not get resolved in one conversation.

Alastor, however, could see it in your eyes. You didn't need to tell him. He may not have ever killed Vox, but there was something there, something that happened with which he could relate to what you were feeling right now as you told him your story.

And you were thankful for it, because he gave you a look which said you did not have to go there right now - he understood.)

Hesitantly, you brought the golden, glowing book to your chest and felt the power fuse with your being.

Printed text exploded across your skin as the magic accepted its new host. The energy flooding your veins, the high unlike anything ever before.

Fuck, is this how Eve felt all the time? No wonder she was always so restless with energy.

"Okay," you turned your back on Lilith and unbuttoned your shirt. You would NOT let yourself revel in how good this felt. You would NOT let yourself drown in the ecstasy of power.

Pulling ink and a quill from the void, you stood there as Lilith etched a rune across your back. When she had finished, the text across your skin was pulled towards the rune and locked beneath the seal.

You breathed deeply, feeling the weight of the power lift from your shoulders, "It worked."

It had to be contained until the time was right. You couldn't have anyone sensing what you carried. The potency of power is how you managed to track Eve down on Earth - it made her a target. Plus, you didn't know what that kind of power would do to your head - it made Eve scatterbrained and impulsive. Constantly chasing the high. You needed clarity to accomplish what you and Lilith had planned.

Power is a dangerous thing. You saw what it did to God, and no part of you ever wanted to have any similarities with that man. So, long ago, when you made the ultimate decision to take the power from Eve, you decided it needed to be locked away as well.

"This is written in Leviathan," Lilith observed. "Didn't Dad -?"

"Yes," you cut her off.

It was before the dawn of man, during Dad's experimental age. The monsters were violent and could not be controlled. He ordered you to corral them into a pocket dimension: Purgatory. You raised and led an army against them, and still, it had taken you years to subdue and capture them all. Your reward? Father pushed you in behind them and locked the door.

"Find a way out," he ordered - punishment for disappointing him. How had you disappointed him, you ask? You took too long.

"I have some... baggage to take care of before I leave." She began, noting the pile of ash on her carpet. "Your contact in Pride is no longer an option."

Fuck. You'd put considerable effort into vetting the Overlord Lilith had pointed you towards - Husk. Now, you were going to have to start over with someone else.

You'd later learn Husk fell from power, losing it in a game of cards to Alastor, of all people. The demon had become a thorn in your side long before you ran into him at the Hotel.

"Whom do you suggest?" You rebuttoned your shirt.

"Rosie, she's a wonderful woman. She'll be good to you, and I trust her."

You had no choice but to take her word for it. Question her now, on the eve of the beginning, especially when you sensed hesitation within her, might just tip her over the edge. She was leaving her husband and child behind, after all.

You held out your hand. "Shall we?"

Lilith considered your offer for a moment. Although she agreed to help you double-cross Eve, you never finalized the contract. You agreed not to, pending how killing the brunette played out, but Lilith came to play.

Your heart held no sympathy for the Queen. She was about to lose everything, but it was temporary. Lilith would be returning home to a husband and a child - to a family. You? You had no home, no family anymore. Lilith could handle a few years away.

Eventually, the demon shook your hand. The room exploded in blues and purples, marking the contract you two just made.

You smirked, "I guess it's time for my grand entrance." You made for the door. "You'll be fine?"

Lilith sighed, "If anyone knows how to handle Adam, it's me."

Right...

"Goodbye, Lilith."

She stopped you, her fingers wrapped around your arm rather tightly. "No harm comes to her." The purple in Lilith's eyes flashed.

She was talking about Charlie. Her daughter was part of the deal: no harm comes to her or her family.

"Of course..."

She let you go. "To power and chaos."

"To power and chaos," you responded as the door shut behind you.

You nearly landed on Rosie a few hours later...

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

Alastor leaned forward in his chair, his elbow on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands. His eyes bore into you with every word of your story. The demon listened intently, paying attention to every detail, every flicker of emotion on your face.

Was he expecting you to lie? Was he expecting deceit? You had offered up nothing but the truth - for once. You told Alastor the entire story.

“You killed Eve.”

“I did.”

“For power?”

“Yes.”

Alastor’s eyes finally leave yours, his gaze wandering to the City before you.

“I know why you’re at the Hotel, Alastor.”

That caught his attention. Surprise fills his face as he raises an eyebrow at you, ears perked at attention.

“Oh?” He purrs.

“I know about the deal with Lillith, but it’s more than that. You’re looking for Roo.*” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a sly smile worming its way into your crooked grin. Finally, you could let the demonic side of you shine - the curse of Knowledge slipping through.

“Is that so?” He intertwines his fingers, his hands coming to rest in his lap. The Radio Demon is clearly amused with your statement - yet his radio static is nowhere to be found.

Interesting.

“Power and chaos. Isn’t that always the story?” You stand and take a step towards him, cautious yet curious to see how he will react.

“And what would you know of Roo?” His lips curl.

There it was. There’s the Radio Demon. The power-hungry murderer. God, that look gave you chills.

“I know that’s not her real name,” another step.

Alastor sits up straighter.

You can’t believe he hasn’t put it together - or he has, and he’s toying with you.

“Oh?”

“Rule number one of Hell, don’t go by your God-given name.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Roo’s real name…” You take another step, his eyes flicker over your form, noting the proximity. Was he anxious? You leaned forward, your hands on the armrests of his chair as you towered over him.

You stopped close enough to feel Alastor’s breath on your face, his eyes automatically dropping to your red lips. You smirked, “...was Eve.”

You feel the tattoo on your back shift as you break the rune which was sealing the magic within.

Words fly across your skin, roaming the unclothed flesh. Your sclera turned black, your hair coming undone by the power surging through every fiber of your being. Horns grew atop your head, your spiked tail unfolding from your backside. Your wings popped out, their black feathers shining in the light. The Radio Demon watched as you let the power of the Book of Knowledge, hidden deep within you, flow freely for the first time in nearly a decade.

He could feel it, he could smell it - the power so potent he could taste it on his tongue: roses, the Book forever carrying a remnant of its original owner, Eve.

You were the epitome of power - the Root of All Evil.

Roo.

After Lucifer ran off with Lilith, he returned to the Garden of Eden with a gift: the Book of Knowledge. He granted it to Eve before he left. Eve never said why he did it, but she was grateful. She would do anything to get away from Eden. Eve took the book and attempted to flee, but Father lured her back, using Adam as bait. Despite what the Second Woman claimed, part of you always believed she had feelings for the First Man...

But, before Eve was taken, she merged herself with the power from the Book so it could never be separated from her. They’d have to kill her for it.

Instead, Father had her locked up and contained. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, and he didn’t want to risk that power passing on to a different hand only to breed a more powerful enemy.

Eve stewed in isolation for thousands of years before finding a way out, before she made her way back to Earth to brew chaos and destruction.

That’s when you were sent to find her. That’s when you befriended her. That’s when you killed her and took the power from the Book for yourself.

Alastor’s smile widens far past what you thought was possible for the demon. His eyes meet yours, his gaze exploding with fire.

“Interesting.” From the Void, Alastor pulls a blade - Velvette's blade. He palms the handle, gripping it in greedy temptation as you, the object of all his desires, stand before him.

You couldn’t recall when the Angelic blade had ended up in his possession, but you weren’t surprised. You knew he was going to try and kill you when he found out - he’d need Angelic steel to do that.

The demon cups your face, his thumb running across your cheek. You could see the hunger for power in his eyes, the constraint with which he fought to maintain composure. Briefly, his pupils flashed into radio dials.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor breathed, his voice absent of static. His lips found yours as he kissed you long and gently. You let yourself melt into him, memorizing his smell, his warmth, the way his lips felt against yours for one final time...

(Keep scrolling)

... and then Alastor plunged the blade deep into your belly.

Could you imagine if I just ended the series right there? That would be HILARIOUS, right? …right? Ha, ha, don’t worry, the story goes on.

-> Chapter Fourteen

History Guide (if you read any of this, read the red at the bottom; it's super important to understanding the fanfic):

1917, Russia - A month after Eve and Thestral's meeting in Russia, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich and the rest of the Romanov family were taken prisoner during the February Revolution in 1917, which ended Russia's involvement in WW1 and the Imperial reign of the Tsar. They were executed in July 1918. Yes, I am implying Eve had something to do with this. Link to Wiki

1923, Chicago - Al Capone (also known as "Scarface") was Chicago’s infamous Prohibition Era gangster. He was famous for bootlegging, illegal gambling, and violent crime. He ran one of Chicago's largest and most infamous gangs: Link to Wiki

1937 Lae, New Guinea - Amelia Earhart's - the famous American Aviation pioneer who attempted to become the first female pilot to fly around the world - last known location, before they found her plane in the sea, was Lae, New Guinea: Link to Wiki

1945, Germany - Did I just imply that Eve killed Hitler? Yes, yes, I did. Fun fact, Russia beat the USA to the Capitol of Berlin by only a few hours: Link to Wiki

1974, London - Although our protagonists (arguably antagonists at this point, am I right?) are in London and not Washington D.C., the major event of this segment is Nixon's resignation. I am implying that they had something to do with Watergate without directly stating it: Link to Wiki

*The Book of Knowledge: Okay, go back and watch Episode One, "Overture." In the beginning, when Charlie is reading the story of Heaven and Hell, there's a point where she says: "Together [Lilith and Lucifer], they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted." The scene shows Lucifer handing Eve a book. The idea here is that knowledge = power, and Lucifer handed over the most powerful well of magic to Eve unknowingly. Knowledge = power = literal physical power = power corrupts = Roo is born.

BOOM. The entirety of my fanfic was birthed from one scene in Hazbin Hotel! But, in actuality, I do think Eve is Roo in canon. Link to Transcript

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto

117 notes · View notes

willowser · 1 year ago

Text

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to.

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress.

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought.

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek.

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon.

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

#i was so nervous about getting the quirk right kahfkahf #and then i was so nervous about it being fluffy enough bc the first draft of this was too angsty ??#SO I REWROTE IT LOL #i hope this is okay !! 🥺#i love the idea of bakugou being able to express how he feels in emotion only #that the fear he doesn't know how to name or how to explain or understand is conveyed to you somehow #whenever he touches you #🥺#tysm for giving me the chance to write it !!!#literally no but seriously you're the only reason i haven't privated this blog again LMAOOO tysm 🥺#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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supermarvelgirl15 · 3 months ago

Text

The Stripper's Bodyguard

Summary: Wade tricks you into dressing as a stripper to get information for a merc job. Logan isn't too thrilled about it.

Pairing: Logan Howlett × f!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, Wade being Wade, alcohol tw, light violence, perverts, and reader has self-doubts for a moment

A/N: I too have become a victim of the Logan Renaissance ™. This is my first time writing for Logan and Wade, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. I love my little angry babygirl <3

Main Masterlist

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You didn’t want to be here. To be fair, you’re sure the only one that wanted to be here was Wade, but his vote didn’t count. Not to you anyway, or Logan for that matter. The place was crowded, loud, and the floor was sticky, you dare not to think with what.

The hell, although heaven to some apparently, you were currently in was a strip club. Wade had persuaded, no, dragged you to join him. It was obvious that he was here for something other than the gorgeous, half-naked women because he was dressed head to toe in his suit, despite hiding his weapons from view and some petite bag he was carrying. Sure, he could just be covering his face for—ahem—other reasons, but you knew how Wade played these games. Besides, the only stripper he went to anymore was Vanessa, and this wasn’t her place.

Before his little mid-life crisis, you were Wade’s “guy in the chair.” You were the one that would find Wade his merc jobs, always finding the biggest asshole with the biggest number on their head. There were a fair share of targets that were done for free, but those were usually the ones that deserved a fate worse than Wade’s sword.

During his time as a car salesman, however, you just became an information distributor, selling knowledge to whoever was willing to buy. You always did your research on the buyer of course, never letting info get into the wrong hands. The job wasn’t fun without Deadpool though. Especially when the rent usually fell onto just you and Al, because who in their right mind would buy a vehicle from a raisin with what looked like a baby Ewok stapled on his head.

Then one day, Wade pranced back into the apartment accompanied with a dog dressed in a matching Deadpool suit and a man that seemed vaguely familiar. Apparently, the two of them had just saved your universe, and the scruffy man, Logan, was from another Earth in a separate timeline. You were just happy that Wade had found himself again.

Slowly, but surely, you grew accustomed to your new roommate. Logan mostly kept to himself, but he was always kind and polite towards you. The ideal roommate really, unlike a certain mouth. He was easy on the eyes too, so bonus.

It was nice to have someone else around while Wade started seeing Vanessa again. You loved Al to death, but when she didn’t have her “white girl interrupted” time, not even the Wolverine dared to get in her way. You’d like to think Logan liked the company as well.

Logan didn’t share any of his past with you, but from what you gathered from Wade, you didn’t blame him. You just hoped that this Earth treated him better than the last. Even though you didn’t know too much about him, he seemed like he had earned it.

He honestly felt like a personal bodyguard at times, which was great for the creepy guys at the grocery store. One instance when it was your turn to go food shopping, Logan decided to tag along—it was either going with you or risk getting roped into helping Wade give Mary Puppins a bath.

While at the store, a guy had come up behind you, making a comment about your ass. Before you could even get a word out, Logan stepped in between you and the guy, looking down at him with an expression that usually meant that he was about to stab Wade with his claws. A “beat it, bub” was all it took for the creep to hightail it out of there. The butterflies that came to life in your stomach after that hadn’t flown away since.

You eventually got back the title of Wade’s—and now sometimes Logan’s—guy in the chair, and you were ecstatic to go back to your roots. Between the three of you, rent was no longer a problem, which was relief to Al’s ears. You all made a pretty good team, even with Dogpool.

It was earlier that day when Wade came to you, asking if you were free. At the time you had said yes, but now you wished you had lied. He just clapped and ordered you to get ready, that he was going to take you out for a girl’s night—ha! You should’ve known better than that.

Logan had overheard you crazily caving into Wade’s pleas to go out with him. He didn’t need heightened senses to know that Wade had an ulterior motive to getting you to go out. That’s why he invited himself to come along. Someone had to make sure Wade wasn’t screwing you over.

Now, the three of you were hanging out on the outskirts of the club, the music blaring through the speakers around you. You weren’t even one of the working girls, yet you could still feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. It must’ve been a coincidence that Logan moved himself closer to you then.

“Are you going to tell us why you dragged us here?” You questioned Wade over the music. You had to repeat yourself a second time for him to hear you.

Wade turned to you, holding up two fingers. “Two things. One: I dragged you here. Real Steel came on his own, which isn’t a new thing for him. Don’t worry, pal, we’ve all been there.” He attempted to give Logan a reassuring pat on the back, but Logan’s warning glare made him rethink it rather quickly.

“Two: Remember Mister Bad Guy we’ve been looking into? He’s here getting his rocks off with some friends of his, like some evil orgey thing.” Wade made a gesture with his hands, one making you scrunch your nose up in disgust. You’d think you’d be used to it by now.

The “Mister Bad Guy” Wade was referring to was a man named Ramone Grimm—his name even sounded evil. He was one of the homicidal leaders of a trafficking ring that both you and Wade had been keeping tabs on. You’ve been looking tirelessly for where their operations were being held, but kept running into a dead end. How Wade even found out he was here was beyond you.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? How? More importantly, what does that have to do with me being here?” You never went out into the field, that was strictly Wade’s area of expertise. He knew that too, so now you definitely knew something was up.

“Everything, sweetums!” Wade excitedly reached into the bag he had been carrying, pulling out a two-piece set that looked similar to lingerie. “I hope you don’t mind that I know your size. Blind Al’s always getting our bras mixed up in the laundry.” He held up the outfit up against himself to display the look for you.

Bile rose up at the back of your throat. “What, what do I need that for?” Your eyes had to be bulging outside of your head. It really didn’t help that Logan was here witnessing all of this. You were going to find a way to kill Wade.

Wade just dipped his head, looking at you like he was annoyed that he had to spell it out. “For your promotion to exotic dancer, silly.” He threw the set back into the bag before rubbing his hands together. “Now, what should your name be? Candy’s too cliché. Buttercup? Nah, too Robin Wright-y. How about—”

“What?”

Both you and Logan spat out the word, though you’re sure his held more venom in it. Logan’s fist clenched at his sides, along with his jaw. He looked more pissed off at Wade than you were, if that was possible.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Wade took a step back. “Whoa there, Mickey and Mallory. No need to go all Natural Born Killers on me. It’s just a cover so you could get close enough to Grimm and his buddies. Believe me, if I could get away with wearing this,” he held up the bag that now hung on his finger, “I’d already be out there struttin’ my stuff, baby girl.”

Logan stepped in between the two of you. “She’s not wearing that,” he seethed through his teeth. This had to be Wade’s most idiotic plan yet, and Logan wasn’t about to let you be a part of it.

Wagging his finger, Wade clicked his tongue. “That’s not very woke of you. I know you were alive before women were even allowed to wear pants, but come on, James, get with the program.” Wade’s life flashed before your eyes when Logan roughly grabbed him by the collar.

Before he could take it any further, you snatched the bag out of Wade’s hands. “I’ll do it,” you muttered, rubbing the material in the bag between your fingers. At least it was thick.

“You don’t need to do this,” Logan tried to reason with you as he let go of Wade.

You just shook your head. “It’s fine, Logan. Besides, you and Wade will be here to watch my six, right?” You let out a dry chuckle at an attempt to make him believe you were actually fine with it, but you knew he could see through your facade. Still, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

The bathroom mirror did nothing to hide your discomfort, both from the lack of clothing in a place full of men with bad intentions and that Wade did in fact get the right size. It was going to be worth it though. You were doing this to save lives. It was just like wearing a bathing suit, right? Right.

After several minutes of psyching yourself up, you emerged from the bathroom, the immediate stares burning holes into your skin. There was nothing like being the new blood at a strip joint. You already regretted going along with this.

“Well, look. At. You! If I knew you were going to look this sexy, I would’ve started buying you lingerie a loooong time ago.” Wade used his hands as a pretend camera. “Might have to save this mental image for later. I know Wolvie here definitely is, you filthy animal.”

The daggers you were using to stab Wade repeatedly in your mind wasn’t enough.

You had to make yourself look at Logan, just to see his eyes raking over you, soaking you in. The expression on his face was unreadable. Maybe the outfit wasn’t so bad after all.

“What do I need to do now?” You asked as you scanned the crowd, locking eyes with a few different men instantly. Ew. The other women that walked around had a confidence that made your insecurities start to claw their way up to the surface. How could Vanessa do this for a living?

Wade made a gesture for a group huddle, but just ended up putting one arm awkwardly around Logan and a hand respectfully on your shoulder. You were surprised that Logan even let him go that far, but you just found that his eyes were still on you. Hopefully he’d think your elevated heartbeat was because of your nerves.

“Here’s the gameplan, team. You’re gonna work your magic and make your way to the back where the VIP tables are while we play the stripper’s bodyguard. Once you hear Grimm’s dirty little secrets, we ride off into the sunset. Capiche?” Wade looks at you expectantly. You swallow past the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to nod. “Great! Okay, on three! One, two, three! Go Dragons!”

With that, Wade took off skipping across the club, leaving you with your self-doubts. Why did you let him drag you here? Why did you agree to do this? This is why you stay at home, where it’s safe and away from the real danger of this job. You’re not cut out for this. There’re too many people. Are you freaking out now? Oh, no, you’re freaking out—

“Hey. Look at me.”

Logan gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His touch stopped your inner turmoil, your focus zoning in on him. His eyes glanced over your face. “You look fine,” he assured you. At least you wouldn’t hyperventilate now because you’re pretty sure you forgot how to breathe.

“Anyone touches you, says anything to you, so much as looks at you the wrong way—you come get me, and I’ll set ’em straight. Understand?” Logan’s voice is low as he speaks to you, the sound comforting to your ears against the obnoxious music. You slowly nod, not trusting your voice enough to respond verbally.

He keeps eye contact with you, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your chin, until he’s sure you’ll be okay. It isn’t until then that he finally let’s go of you, reluctantly pushing himself through the club in the opposite direction that Wade went. You didn’t take your eyes off his back until he disappeared into the sea of people.

You take a deep breath, coming back to your senses. You could do this. You looked hot, you were confident, and Logan or Wade wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. Everything would be fine.

Your shoes had trouble with clinging to the questionable floor as you made your way towards the back, ignoring the cat calls from other patrons. You picked up a discarded tray with drinks from a table to make it look like you had a reason for being in VIP. It was surprisingly easy to get in, with you just telling the bouncer that you were the new blood. The way his eyes raked over your body was nothing like the way Logan had looked at you. This one left you nauseated instead of elated.

The bouncer just let you in with a mumbled “good luck” and closed the rope behind you. Now, you just had to find Grimm’s table. His face was practically burned onto the back of your eyelids from all the times you’ve been researching him and his group. How did Wade find him here when you didn’t? You probably didn’t want to know.

Once you slipped pass the VIP rope, Logan lost sight of you, which made his heartbeat pick up some. It was hard to focus on just your scent when there were so many others mixing together within this place. He was going to stab Wade in the dick for this. You shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t have let you do this.

One way or the other, this was going to end with him mauling somebody. Everyone in this place should be praying to God that someone doesn’t lay a single finger on you. He needed a drink.

Grimm’s table were a bunch of disgusting bastards. They were all drunk and held no respect for the girls that were working their table. Then again, what else would you expect from assholes that ran a trafficking ring.

It didn’t take long for one of them to mention something about transporting “products” to a warehouse a couple states over. You tried your hardest to keep your expression neutral as you mentally jotted the location down while also ignoring the unsavory comments from the other men. This whole mess was actually going to be worth it.

You were luckily able to slip back out just as easily as you had slipped in, acknowledging the bouncer with a small smile. All you had to do now was find Wade and Logan, get out of here, and put on some more clothes. You were actually amazed at how smoothly this had worked out.

“Where you off to, darlin’?”

Maybe you spoke too soon.

Everything in you went into overdrive as you slowly turned to face the guy that had spoken to you, seeing that he was barely even able to stand on his own. He took a long sip from his beer, his eyes glued to everything on you but your face.

“Sorry, my shift just ended.” You offered him an uncomfortable smile before turning away from him.

The guy immediately grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. “But we just got started,” he slurred, his breath alone enough to intoxicate you. His grip didn’t waver, even when you tried to pull away. Frantically, your eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to find either Logan or Wade, but neither of them were in sight. Where were they?

“Let me go.” You said the words with as much malice that you could muster, but they might as well had fallen on deaf ears. If anything, they just seemed to entice him more.

“Oh, ’m like it when ya talk back.” His face was way too close to yours now. The smell of his breath—and his words—were going to make you puke right on him. Good.

You barely even registered it when the guy was suddenly slung backwards off of you into a table, the commotion capturing the attention of the nearby clubgoers and workers. The cause of the pervert’s sudden take of flight was none other than Logan, who now stood in front of you, his chest heaving and eyes filled with a rage that not even you had seen before.

“What the hell?!” Perve guy yelled as he clamored to stand back up, someone beside him eventually helping him. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Logan’s hands twitched at his sides. “She said let her go.” You were worried his teeth were about to break with how hard he clenched them together.

Perve guy scoffed. “’M money means I can touch her if I want, jackass.” He attempted to push past Logan to get to you, but he didn’t get too far before Logan pushed him backwards until his back hit the wall with a loud thud. Logan’s claws unsheathed against the man’s neck, earning gasps and screams from the crowd that now surrounded them.

“You wanna try that again, bub?” Logan spat, his claws only just grazing the perve’s bobbing Adam's apple. The guy shook his head, his eyes wide. He seemed to sober up almost immediately.

When Logan didn’t make a move to let him go, you slowly approached him, calling his name. “Let’s get out of here.” You placed your hand on his arm gently, moving your head so he would look you in the eye.

Slowly, Logan retracted his claws and let him go. He gestured with his head for the guy to beat it, which he did not hesitate to do. Logan turned to you then, delicately grabbing your arm where the guy had had a hold of you. “Did he hurt you?” He still held a bit of anger in his eyes, prepared to gut the guy if you said yes.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Can we just get out of here?” If anything, you’d have a bruise in the morning. You’d just try to hide it from Logan if so. The two of you had already created a big enough commotion as it was.

Logan stared at you a moment longer, making sure that you were actually okay. He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders before directing you towards the door. Not a single person even dared to look in your direction while he was with you.

Wade had met you at the door, a few bills tucked into his belt. “I heard there was almost a murder on the dancefloor, and not the kind that gives you a salt burn either.” He paused when he noticed you in Logan’s jacket, and that Logan had a protective arm wrapped around your shoulder. “O. M. G. Did y’all have a 1992’s The Bodyguard moment? You totally did, didn’t you? You have to tell me every detail. Now, who was Whitney and who was Costner?”

Both you and Logan shared a look with each other before glaring at Wade.

“Shut it, Wade.”

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#marvel #logan howlett × reader #wolverine × reader #logan howlett fic #wolverine fic #logan howlett #james howlett #james logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #kay writes

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