#even having one extra day off or only working 6 hours a day would make such a big difference for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrollohearttags · 1 month ago

Text

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Text

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats.

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse.

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice.

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.”

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.”

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead.

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer.

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him.

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says.

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.”

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.”

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.”

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors.

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?”

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out.

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it.

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus.

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.”

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.”

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Sirius nods. “Told you so.”

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.”

“You’re joking,” says Remus.

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.”

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?”

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.”

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away.

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?”

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.”

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.”

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours.

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light.

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?”

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.”

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.”

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?”

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.”

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.”

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.”

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse.

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.”

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.”

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.”

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly.

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.”

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.”

638 notes · View notes

neoraso · 11 days ago

Text

bf things with boynextdoor

03z + 04z

sungho

cooks for you without a second thought. wants his baby fed and even before you started dating he always made extra when he knew you were coming around

sticks up for you always. if he sees ANYONE mistreating or teasing you too much he makes sure to end it there.

thinks you're THE funniest person alive. laughs harder and smiles more when you're around

lots of dates (shopping, cafe, eating, museums,etc.) but also loves to just stay in, cook and watch movies with you, talking and cuddling, he serenades you sometimes playfully >_<

loves to play with your hair and hold your hands- so simple but its so endearing and special to him to feel the back of your hand or your fingers curled in his own.

riwoo

was literally so shy around you before you started dating, now you are the person he feels most at home with. he doesn’t say it all the time but it shows when he’s around other people

carries your bags for you, holds your drink, etc. with no hesitance- even if someone points it out

is quite observant about your moods, habits, likes and dislikes. prides himself on knowing things about you no one else seems to care about-especially when he pulls out the most thoughtful gifts that leave you floored

feels a sense of responsibility for your care and overall wellbeing, but also feels incredibly comforted and safe with you

loves to share food and treats with you, all the time but especially when you look like you need a pick me up

jaehyun

he tries to not hang off of you like a backpack but fails within an hour and especially at night

everyone he introduces you to, coworkers, family members, friends, etc., all act like they know you from how much he talks about you. he thinks the world of you and loves to brag

every time he sees you it's like you've been gone for 6 years, even if it's only been a day; hugs so tight and gives 1 billion kisses, coos at you

an obvious mention: cute aggression that occurs so often it might be like a chronic affliction... srsly... kisses your face and head with a surprising amount of force and ur literally js sitting there, minding ur business

he elevates you. he's a great guy who you know deserves the world and it makes you want to live up to that. he feels the same about you and you guys encourage each other to be your best selves.

taesan

loves to have matching items with you (will spend hours customizing shoes or hats for you both)

loves days in where u just listen to whatever records you picked up the last time he brought you to the shop and lay there or slow dance around

lovessss meaningful gifts and gestures. will buy or make you snacks when you’re stressed or just bc would steal the moon for you if you asked

thinks everything you do is so cute and perfect and wonderful. literally so biased he will choose you to win over anyone

likes to pick you up from work or school even if its just to walk to the bus stop together and ride home (greatest protector award goes to…!!!)

leehan

your rock. soothes all your worries no matter how silly they seem. says really profound things like they're simple and- you guess they are when he’s around.

treats you oh so softly; tucks your hair behind your ears, pulls you into a hug like you're glass

nothing is embarrassing to him, he will wash your hair, shave your legs, brush your teeth for you. just ask and he’s there

likes when you sit with him while he watches his fishies,, you dont even have to be watching too but he feels so content with both of his favorite things to be around

the type where if you fall asleep on the couch instead of moving you, he'll just slip next to you to sleep too <<33

322 notes · View notes

pierregazly · 10 months ago

Text

are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach.

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side.

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body.

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 blurb #oscar piastri blurb #blurb #writing #fluff #pierregazly's 1.5k celebration

614 notes · View notes

dutiful-wildcraft · 3 months ago

Text

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses.

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way.

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch? he asks with big brown eyes.

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them.

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings.

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does. And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking.

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair.

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag.

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about.

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen.

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready.

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her.

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away.

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely.

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?”

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face.

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him.

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes.

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her.

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms.

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice.

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

#abrupt ending bc I cant end things for shit #nik is some kind of baby #price is too #price x reader #john price #nikolai cod #nikprice #nikolai x reader #call of duty #cod #captain john price #wildcraft writing

198 notes · View notes

fact-dogsarehappiness · 5 months ago

Text

Ranking the Batfam by their sleep habits

Duke: He’s on the day shift so he actually gets to sleep at night. He’s still a teenager in high school so he doesn’t get much rest between the homework and the vigilantism, but he averages a solid 7-8 hours a night

Cassie: She has to stay in optimal shape for ballet so she gets as much rest as she can. She’s also capable of taking time off when she needs it so she can get extra rest to make up for working a harder case. She typically pulls in about 7ish hours

Jason: Do you know how much math is involved in running a crime syndicate? More than you think. Dude’s gotta be able to stay on top of it. He doesn’t have a day job (legally dead and all) so he can pretty much just zonk out after patrol, but he wakes up really easy, so he only typically gets 6-7 hours at a time

Damian: He gets forced to rest even if he doesn’t want to. There’s been a Robin rule since Dick was in the green shorts that Robin has to get at least 6 hours a night

Babs: She would love to get more sleep, but as Oracle, she has to be on call all night. She tried to sleep in between missions, so she got a vibrating alarm and synced it to her mission program to wake her up when something happens. She’s lucky to get 5 hours uninterrupted

Steph: She could get more sleep if she wanted to, but sometimes the adhd just takes over and she spends her precious limited sleep time free time in youtube rabbit holes. She’ll typically get somewhere between 4-5 hours

Dick: Despite always being the one trying to get everyone else to take care of themselves, he’s incapable of seeing bad self care habits in himself, so this idiot voluntarily works the morning shift at his day job. So after patrolling for 8 hours, he only has 3 hours to sleep before work if he’s lucky

Bruce: Bruce gets easily fixated on whatever he’s working on, which makes it hard for him to stop. He can go days without sleep and not even notice. He’ll typically crash and get one night of 8 hours, but the rest of the week, he’ll only get around 2 a night.

Tim: He never knows when the last time he slept was and would actually be glad if you pointed it out for him. He inherited Bruce’s hyperfixations and doesn’t even notice how long he’s been working until the sun comes up. When he finally crashes, he crashes hard and sleeps for almost an entire day

Alfred: No one has ever seen him sleep, they just assume it must happen. No one knows for sure

314 notes · View notes

areyouwell · 5 months ago

Text

Algophobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of pain. Children and adults may have Algophobia if they possess an extreme aversion to feeling pain, typically physical.

Ch.7

Ch.6, Ch.5,5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, vomit, uhhhhhhh nothing intense really, for once... honestly can't remember and i literally JUST reread it :')

Word Count: 14.5K

A/N: told ya i'd keep writing. sorry this one took a little extra time, i'm literally on a train in France having finished editing and proofreading the chapter like, two minutes ago so slay boots. can't believe this fic is almost over like holy shit... congrats to anyone who's ready all of it so far because it's well within the world count of a novel and by the end will probably be over that threshold... so slay of us good job teamsquad also sorry if the layout is janky i hate posting from my phone

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor

Birds. The chittering of swallows, to be exact. Beyond the soft beams of sunlight through the quartered window, the chittering of swallows had caressed him awake, a gentle breeze rustling the orange leaves against the glass, whispering secrets into the light of the morning.

It wasn’t rare Logan woke up before you, in fact, considering how little of a morning person you were, it was rare you woke up before midday full-stop—and this morning seemed no different. Occasional snores bubbled from your chest, you lightly swiped at an invisible irritation around your nose as you turned in his arms, nestling tighter into his chest. Logan hummed a tender smile, smoothing your brow with the pad of his thumb. Your features furrowed as you attempted to escape his touch, unappreciative of the disturbance no matter how gentle.

Huffing a small laugh, he allowed you to burrow further into his embrace, tightening his arms around your body. Six months of this. Six months of the quiet peace of escape. Honestly, he couldn’t be more thankful for the raid on the mansion that day. Here he was, the love of his life tangled in his arms, slowly waking on a sunny, breezy autumnal morning.

His eyes raised to beyond the window, smelling the rain on the air even from inside. Maybe an hour away? An hour and a half at a push. He groaned, realising he’d need to get the bike into the barn before the showers hit. Was leaving the cosy confines of the bed really worth saving and having to scale off some rust later? Absolutely not, but Logan knew you’d be mad at him if he let a splash of rainwater ruin all his hard work.

Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your brow, your features scrunched in disapproval as she shifted you out of his embrace having to move quickly before you searched for him again and attached yourself to his arm. You whined gravelly protests but settled back down when he pulled the covers back up over your shoulders. He’d make a coffee for you when he came back in. One of those strong ‘morning’ coffees you called them. With at least three heaps of espresso, no sugar, no cream, just caffeine.

Slipping on a fresh pair of jeans and a deep green flannel that you said brought out the colours in his eyes –utter bullshit in his correct opinion– Logan tip-toed down the stairs almost comically slow. He knew you wouldn’t wake. The sun could have exploded and you’d be more irritated if it had woken you up before 1 pm, but he still liked to take care not to disturb you, more out of principle than anything else.

The morning was as crisp as he initially thought, his skin prickly with the cool breeze. He hadn’t bothered with his jacket, since he would only be out for less than thirty seconds. Pulling the tarp from the bike and flicking up the kickstand, he wheeled it back up the small slope and into the barn. If things continued going the way they were going, Logan thought about perhaps clearing out some of the rusted old machinery, maybe making room for a chicken pen, or maybe a stall for a cow or something. You’d be good at raising animals, he thought. And he preferred the idea of getting fresh produce rather than having to head to the store every week or so.

It was an idea that refused to leave his head as he looked around the small space. Just against the far wall, he could imagine a little coop where the old, rusty plough now lay discarded. It would be a ballache to remove it, and Logan didn’t doubt the sharp edges where the metal had rusted away would get a good few swipes in, but it seemed worth it in his mind’s eye to see you crouched next to the nest, holding up a single egg proudly as if you’d laid it yourself.

But if he was to get started, he’d need his jacket. And maybe a thick pair of gloves. Sure, he could heal, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get pissed at him when he wouldn’t take these kinds of precautions, bringing up that one time he said he wanted to do things like a normal couple, to which you’d use to your advantage. “Normal people don’t simply heal their wounds three seconds later, Lo’.”

It was endearing, how much you cared. How hard you tried to keep him safe despite the fact he literally couldn’t be hurt. With a fond smile tugging his lips up at the thought of you, Logan draped the tarp back over the bike, securing the tags around the frame before patting the motorcycle, much like Todd did.

Todd.

Logan blinked. Why did he suddenly have the urge to tear into the man’s chest and rip out his fucking heart? Was his anger returning? But Todd hadn’t done anything, at least not that he could remember. Sure, he was flirtatious with you, but you never let it go too far and it made you laugh, so there wasn’t much harm there. So where the fuck did this sudden urge to split his skull come from?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he attempted to release his anger with his exhale, feeling the rage simmer down slightly, though still extremely accessible beneath the surface. Maybe he was too far away from you. Oh, he was down so bad if that was the reason. He refused to believe it until he left the barn, pulling the bolt shut, and turning to see you in the doorway, two mugs of steaming coffee grasped in your hands.

Was there a better view? He couldn’t think of anything sweeter than what he was seeing, the woman he loved, leaning against the doorframe to the cabin he shared with her away from the rest of the world, safe and free and at peace. Your soft smile could start a war, and your laugh could end it. There was no clean line to where you started and he ended, your very souls totally and completely intertwined.

And you lost her.

Logan whirled at the trees above, searching for where he swore he’d just heard a voice hiss. But he saw nothing other than clouded blue skies and fluttering leaves like an artist’s palette of a sunset. You called his name and he slowly turned his head back to you.

And froze completely.

A small crimson stain started to spread from the centre of your chest, sanguine blood flowing from a fresh wound down your front. Panic leached the colour from his face as he lurched forward, only for his feet to be stuck to the ground. He looked down frantically, tugging at his thighs in an attempt to pull himself free. You were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to keep you safe.

A strangled gurgle was ripped from your throat and he looked back to you just as you opened your mouth, a fountain of blood bubbling from your scarlet-stained lips. Trying to scream resulted in nothing but a rippling stream of sanguine with a guttural yelp. A hand gripped your shoulder from the dark beyond the doorway, a serrated knife dragging a thin line across the hollow of your neck as your palms flew to the arm holding you still in a weak attempt to stop him.

Logan desperately clawed at his legs, eyes unable to look away as Dr.Kreva stepped out from behind your bleeding body, the knife held in his closed grip. A roar tore up his voice, scraping up along his throat as the serrated edge of the blade inched further into the tendons of your neck, snapping through the muscles with a sickening squelch. Your eyes widened as your voice cut off, hands gripping Kreva’s arm falling limp by your sides, light fading from your irises.

Smoke rose from somewhere behind the cabin, and Logan could only blink before the wood erupted into flame, licks and tendrils of scorching reds devouring the exterior. He could do nothing, stuck in a quagmire of his guilt, hands of fire clawing up your legs, igniting your clothes, melting the flesh from your bones. Kreva’s glasses shone in the golden glow, stepping back into the inferno and disappearing as the support beam collapsed.

Staring in abject horror, Logan fell forward, finally released by whatever held his fast. His knees bit as he struck the earth, facing your skeleton lying face down, blackened bones of your hand outstretched towards him in a final, desperate plea for help.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered to your vacant corpse. He’d failed you. Keeping you safe was his only fucking job and he’d failed. He promised you he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t abandon you, and he’d fucking failed.

The shadows rippled and contorted around your skeleton, rising from the ground to conjure seven figures. The same silhouettes he’d woken up to stare him down six months ago. Simultaneously, their hands stretched out over you, void-like fingers splayed, and your bones began to sink into the earth.

The ghost of your body rippled beneath the surface of the darkness before the black smoke curled up from the soil, an eighth shadow figure reforming from the void to complete what he had suspected ever since he’d read the file. There were eight of you. Eight Subjects.

Nine Lives Minus One.

They were the literal shadows of your past. And it terrified him that you had now become one. Logan’s heart thundered in his chest as he looked between the eight figures, shadowing faces simultaneously snapping to look at him, head cocking at unnatural angles.

The one he knew to be yours reached up to its neck, wrapping its long thin fingers around its own throat, before squeezing. A scream echoed in his ears, tearing at the walls of his mind before he was thrust forward, falling through to reality.

Nausea roiled in his gut as Logan jolted awake, bolt upright. The image of your charring body, flesh dripping from your bones burned in his mind’s eye, and that slight nausea shifted to the undeniable urge to vomit.

Staggering from his bed to the bathroom, bile burned his throat as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the sounds of his own gagging echoing about the empty stall.

Two months. It had been two months since he’d lost you. And every day felt like thirty. Rage and grief accompanied him like a constant companion. The memories of your laughter, your smile, your teasing comments haunted the halls of the school, corridors once alight with comfort and giggles now felt cold damp. Absent.

They were making progress. They reassured him every long, long day, they were making progress with locating you. Charles had almost locked himself away with Cerebro to locate you, but it was difficult to get a read on anything when any signatures he felt from the once-destroyed facility kept slipping from his mental grasp. Subject One, or Obscurity, was somehow hiding all and any neurotransmitters from the old environment centre. Either that or what whole place was coated entirely with steel, which was also a possibility.

But none of them knew because nobody could get close enough to fucking find out. It was damn near impossible without alerting upwards of sixty armed guards to their approaching location. And whilst Logan would tank the bullets and take them all on alone, Scott wouldn’t let him, and neither would he let him endanger any other member of the team by storming a full frontal assault.

So Logan was forced to wait. And wait. And wait. Every day, you slipped further from him. That first night without you, he’d borderline commandeered the Blackbird to get to Todd. He needed to know what happened. Why he did do it? And it wasn’t a polite conversation.

Rage coursed through his veins as he sliced open the lock to Todd’s garage, throwing up the doors with enough force to break the mechanism completely. Pausing only to sniff the air, Logan growled as he scented Todd’s presence, a frantic Ororo trailing behind after him, placing a weak attempt at a placating hand on his bicep. But he didn’t want to be calmed down. Logan wanted blood. Fuck that, he craved blood. Wanted to taste it as he ripped Todd’s throat out with his damn teeth.

Though the office light was off, Todd’s scent was stronger in that direction, and Logan was fairly certain he was hiding. Good. Smartest decision he’d made in the last six months. Although he would have been smarter to start running the second he betrayed Logan’s trust and had you ripped away from him.

With a balled fist, Logan thrust his hand through the glass on the door, barely wincing as shards of glass embedded themselves in his knuckles. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to that kind of sensation. And true to his senses, Todd swore from behind the desk, his voice shaky. Good.

“It better have been fuckin’ worth it for ya.” Logan snarled, ripping the desk from its roots and tossing it aside as if it weighed nothing. Various effects scattered about the floor, a lamp shattering upon impact, files and paperwork strewn like flyers in the wind.

“Jus’ w-wait a minute. I didn’t ‘ave a choice. Bastard threatened my family, what would you ‘ave done?” Todd held his hands up in defence, bowing his head as Logan’s adamantium claws slid from his freshly healed knuckles. The man’s eyes widened in horror. “Yer a fuckin’ mutant?”

Ororo’s eyes blanched, lightning crashing through a telephone pole beyond the doors outside. The blood drained from Todd’s face, as the realisation dawned on him that, they were all mutants.

Logan hated how he understood the man’s fear. And he was right. If the roles had been reversed, if it had been you who was being threatened, he would have cracked in an instant. If your safety was compromised, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure right whatever had happened.

“Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ weasel, Todd. I fuckin’ trusted you!” It was taking every fibre of his self-control not to plunge his claws through his throat and rip through his tendons, but he took a deep, steadying breath.

“What happened, Todd?” Ororo asked, her eyes fading back to their natural colour.

Todd sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Round three months after y’all moved in, this glasses-wearing sleezebag waltzed into this shop like ‘e owned the fuckin’ place, askin’ after the pair of yous. I told ‘im to get lost, I weren’t in the business of information. Till ‘e asked about me wife. And me daughter, Lisa. Put the fear of God in me I tell ya.

“I didn’t ‘ave a choice, Logan, I swear it. I’d never ‘ave told ‘im anythin’ if I knew this were gonna ‘appen.” He pleaded, and Logan had to step away to stop himself from at least punching the shit out of him.

“That’s why you called me, isn’t it? Not cuz of the money, but cuz you knew what was gonna happen.” The question was rhetorical. Of course that was the reason. And if he could turn back time, he would have picked up the phone in an instant, no questions asked. Maybe he could have avoided this altogether and you’d be safe and sound, curled up by his side, back at the mansion.

But as it stood, Logan’s mutation wasn’t time travel.

“I didn’t know exactly, but yeah, I knew somethin’ was gonna ‘appen tonight…” Todd admitted, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “I liked ‘er Logan. I did. She was–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, running a stressed hand through his hair. It was only 4:36 am. You had roughly two hours on him, but if he left now and took the bike, maybe he could catch you. Or better yet, if he took the Blackbird…”

“Logan…?”

No. He’d have to land the Blackbird, which would take far too long and he also wasn’t used to piloting something like that.

“Logan?”

He’d take the bike then. Head back to the cabin with the truck and exchange vehicles. But that would take too long, even if he floored it. Fuck! The truck was nowhere near fast enough either. He had to make a choice here, sacrifice time with the small possibility of catching up to you, or possibly sacrifice you and tail Kreva so he leads him straight back to the facility.

“Logan!”

He blinked, turning back to Ororo, who had her arms folded across her chest, her brows pinched in sympathy. “You can’t go after her. It’s too late. We need to strategise this because clearly, they’re expecting you to follow her immediately,” she explained, and he grit his teeth. She was right, and he fucking hated it. Because every second wasted here was yet another second you were in their capture, and fuck knows what they would do to you this time. The thought terrified him. “Come on… we’ll head back to the school, figure something out.” Logan didn’t move, his eyes hard as he glared at Ororo, the thought of leaving your behind had his gut writhing like a ball of vicious, furious snakes. Storm sighed, realising he wasn’t going to be convinced so easily. “She was a member of our team, Logan. She was our friend. We’re not abandoning her…” There was a determination in her eye that genuinely gave Logan a kernel of hope. She was right. You were their friend. You’d made such an impact in their lives, and they weren’t about to give you up so easily.

With an extended sigh, he nodded. Fine. He’d play by their rules. But the moment things stagnated, he’d fucking find you himself.

“I’ll look after yer truck. She’s–”

“I don’t fucking care.” he snapped, not bothering to spare so much as a glance over his shoulder before returning out to the jet.

That was two fucking months ago. And he was certain things had stagnated and he just wasn’t being told. Scott had banned him from surveillance missions, claiming his fuse was too short for missions such as those, and that if he saw where you were being held, he’d snap and tear through anything and everything in his path to get to you.

Not something Logan could disagree with, but he only acquiesced because Jean convinced him it was their best bet at finding you. It physically fucking hurt not to be involved in your rescue missions, but he knew it was for the best. He didn’t particularly want anybody else hurt or captured or killed or whatever the fuck they’d do to them.

Making sure his stomach wasn’t about to surprise him with another surge of bile, Logan stood to the basin, running the cold water from the tap and cupping his hands, splashing his face vigorously in a lame attempt to wash away the nightmare. Because that’s all it was. Just a nightmare. And despite him having intimate knowledge of your mutation, the fact that the last he saw of you, you were bleeding out on a floor of tarmac, scared the shit out of him. He knew you could heal. There was documented proof of you healing from several bullet wounds, however he couldn’t shake the image from his brain.

You barely knew what had happened before you dropped to the floor, your delicately concerned smile for him morphing and shifting to an expression of complete and utter shock. The crack of your skull on the pavement, the harsh gurgle of your coagulated blood as you spat at Kreva….

You didn’t have a choice. He knew that. He knew your body would have given into the shadow in a desperate attempt to heal yourself of the bullet in your chest, but that didn’t make the memories hurt any less.

That was the last he saw of you, and it fucking haunted him. Exhaling a shaky breath, Logan stared into the droplets in the sink, before raising his head, limp strands of dark brown hair hanging damp around his eyes. His gaze shifted to the reflection of the shower. It had taken him almost a week after being back to garner the courage to use it. Not only because every time he closed his eyes he saw your bleeding chest and blanching face, but also because it was identical to the shower in your ensuite, and it fucking hurt to be near it, let alone in it.

The porcelain cracked beneath his grip, pulling him from his memories back into the present. There were times he wished he could simply let himself be lost to the past. At least he was with you there. But he promised he’d find you. He promised he’d never leave you. And he didn’t intend to break it.

Shrugging on the same flannel he’d been wearing for days and a pair of extremely worn jeans, Logan checked his watch. Two minutes past nine. His lips tugged in a bittersweet smile. You’d be furious. Running a hand down the side of his face, Logan opened the door.

Only to find Scott standing on the other side, balled fist held up as if to knock a few times on Logan’s face. If he had the energy, Logan would ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but it seemed the team was taking it in turns to make sure he was alright now and then. Poor Scott. It seemed he’d drawn the short straw on a particularly shit morning.

“What?” He asked blankly, fighting the urge to silently barge past the man. Sure, they may have shared a sweet moment of understanding after he’d lost you, but that was two fucking months ago. And moments of sweet understanding weren’t enough to make up for the fact you were still missing.

Scott blew out a sigh of relief, clearly expecting Logan to simply walk past him. “Uh, Marie’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent? She wouldn’t talk to any of us…” Scott sounded almost suspicious, but the moment he mentioned it was urgent, Logan was gone, shouldering past him and down the hallway. “She’s out the back!” Cyclops called after him as if he needed any kind of help with directions. He could smell a plan brewing from a mile away.

True to his nose, and annoyingly, Scott’s directions, he found Marie out by the pond, alongside Kitty, Bobby, Peter, Jubilee, Julian and to his heartwarming surprise, Artie. All of them were dressed in their gear, other than Artie who’d simply donned a black pair of trousers, a black t-shirt and a matching beanie.

“We want to help,” Marie said by way of greeting, and Logan folded his arms across his chest, releasing a slightly exasperated breath. Honestly, he was shocked it took this long for them all to catch on. He was back, and you were nowhere to be seen. Classes had all but ceased completely and the Professor wouldn’t be seen for days, sometimes weeks on end. The rest of their little team nodded with boundless determination.

His chest ached with the knowledge there was no way he was about to let these students, your students, run head-first into danger, no matter how much they wanted to. “Look, kids, as it stands, we don’t even know–” he paused, having to steel his nerves. “We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” It was entirely true. He knew you were alive. You had to be. He’d feel it if you weren’t, right? That’s at least how it felt to him. You were part of each other now, neither whole without the other. If you were head, he’d know it.

Kitty clenched her jaw, her hands balling into firsts by her sides, and Logan felt a pang of guilt. She knew. She must have known he was lying. She was somewhere between a student and an X-man, hovering between still learning and a member of the team. Being so close to you, however, it also seemed she had been left out of all the fun. His sympathy morphed into empathy, feeling her frustration as his own.

“She’s still alive.” Your friend whispered through clenched teeth, and Logan blew out a sigh. “They won’t let them help, sure, they’re still students, but I’m not. I’m part of the goddamn team, Logan. And so are you!” She hissed, and Marie and Bobby shared a look of concern before Rogue’s hand touched her shoulder compassionately.

“We don’t care that we’re students. You said it yourself, we’re stronger than anyone realises. We can help.” Bobby urged, and if Logan was being honest with himself, their argument was fairly convincing. They were strong, much stronger than even you realised. But he also knew that if–

No. Not if. When they got you back, if you ever found out that he’d allowed the students to help on the mission, he was pretty sure you’d castrate him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let ya. Not only cuz you’re still students, but you all know, if she found out I was the one who let you help, I’d be killed.” Huffed a smile of understanding. Of course, they wanted to help you, you’d helped so many of them in the past. But he didn’t think that was it. This wasn’t out of some favour for a favour obligation towards you. You were loved. You were so so loved, by so many.

And by nobody more than him.

“Be our spy then.” Jubilee offered from behind Marie, to which Logan raised a brow.

“And how would I do that when? I’m not involved in the planning.” He tried so hard to keep the frustrated growl from his voice, but Artie's slight step back proved his failure. Fuck.

“You gotta convince them. Please? For us?” The hope in Marie’s voice took him right back to where he’d found her almost three years ago now, running from her past. Running from herself. It made sense how you and she got along so well. You were both running.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Logan could feel seven pairs of eyes all trained on him. He wasn’t one to bend to peer pressure, but at the same time, he needed an excuse for himself to get involved, and if doing it for the kids was enough, then that’s what he’d do.

“Alright. Alright. Damn, you sure none of you has a persuasion mutation?” He asked in a lame attempt to lighten the mood. At least Artie found it funny, the kid giggling away to himself in the back.

Marie beamed in gratitude, leaping into his arms and giving him one of the squeeziest hugs Logan thinks he’s ever received. “I knew you’d help! Thanks, Logan, as soon as you hear anything, please let us know, kay?” She stepped back and Logan once again felt that familiar stab of guilt impale his gut. He knew he was going to have to lie to them, because the moment they found out some kind of progress had been made, they’d be out the door like a shot before he could even start to yell ‘wait’.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t mention anythin’ ‘kay? They don’t let me know anythin’ as it is, so this’ll be hard enough without them thinkin’’m feeding back information to the damn students.” Logan grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Okay?” He repeated after a beat of silence, only this time to a chorus of nodded heads and various ‘yes sir’s. “Good, now back to classes, all of you.”

“But… Professor Grey didn’t turn up to teach us…” Julian chimed in, to Logan’s irate twitch of his brow.

“Then go and study.” His voice left no room for argument as each student bowed their head in defeat and dragged their feet back inside until his was just him and Kitty left behind. Logan studied her face for a bit, much more crestfallen than he’d ever seen her. “Y’alright?” He asked, though instantly kicking himself for the ridiculous question. She was probably just as alright as he was, which was absolutely not alright at all.

Kitty clenched her jaw again, unable to raise her eyes further than the blades of grass at her feet. “She left again…” Logan’s heart cracked for her. You hadn’t had time to explain anything eight months ago after the attack. He didn’t even think you saw her before you left, unable to say goodbye before you were on the road with him. And now, he’d returned and you were still gone.

“She didn’t want to, kiddo. She didn’t have a choice…” he didn’t know how much Kitty knew about your situation, but he assumed anything regarding who you were, what had happened in your past and who had taken you was kept on a need-to-know basis. He hated every tear that spilled from the poor girl’s eyes, her frustration conflicting her her confusion. Wordlessly, Logan stepped forward and enveloped her in his embrace, finding the way she instantly fell into his chest heartbreaking.

“I miss her so much…” she managed to sob, her fingers clutching onto the arms of his jacket. Tears pricked his own hazel eyes, having to tilt his head up to stop them from falling. He hadn’t heard his own agony spoken aloud like this, and pain wracked the centre of his chest.

“Me too.” was all he could utter back, fighting to keep his voice stable, clearing his throat in an attempt to loosen the lump constricting his breathing. Kitty stepped back from his arms, furiously wiping the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her palms.

“Right, yeah, ‘course you do. Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“You’re good. It’s actually kinda… refreshing. Everyone tip-toes ‘round me like ’m gonna bite their head off. Can��t really blame 'em.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. He guessed he should be grateful for the way people were trying to be respectful, but it only resulted in pissing him off monumentally.

“You have been looking like you want to tear the school down recently…” Kitty giggled lightly, and Logan relaxed, thankful he was able to bring a smile back to the girl’s face. His chest constricted as he thought of your proud smile. Teaching the kids he could do. Making them feel better in any kind of capacity? That’s where he fell short, but you excelled. “S’just… Jade was like a sister to me. I hated her for what happened, but we leant on each other so much, she became the sister to me Jade used to be. And I never told her I didn’t hate her anymore. Because I did, or, at least part of me did, but I let that go…” Kitty took a deep breath, tilting her head to the sky as fresh tears stung her eyes. “What if– what if I don’t get to tell her that?”

Logan grit his teeth. “You will. Listen, I still gotta buncha shit I wanna say to her, and there’s nothin’ that can stop me from sayin’ it. We’ll get her back, aight? I promise.” He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but Kitty blew out a long breath, her tears remaining behind her lashes. If he could bring her some kind of comfort, then perhaps he could start believing it himself. You weren’t dead. He was set on that. But you were in pain. He knew that too. Because whatever they did to you in the past wouldn’t hold a candle to how things had changed in the last seven years. New technology, new information, new drugs.

New weapons.

He shook his head. Thinking about what you were going through wouldn’t help to get you back. And as if sensing his train of thought, Kitty stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “We will get her back.” She reiterated, only this time it was for his benefit. He offered her a weak, grim smile, before turning back to head into the mansion once again.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Jean who came sprinting out the door, almost colliding straight into him. She skidded to a stop, pausing as if she couldn’t find the right words. Logan raised a brow.

“We have a lead.” Was all she said, though her words took a moment to register, Kitty came barrelling up behind him. “Or rather, we found a way in.”

Rap rap rap!

A groan rumbled from your lips as you held your pillow over your ears, your head pounding. Your shift last night had been long and brutal, and that was without the endless shots your coworkers poured for you.

Rap rap rap!

“Fuck off!” You called back, hearing a light giggle from beyond your messy bedroom door.

“C’mon, it’s almost midday! You can’t sleep forever!” You attempted to hide beneath the covers of your bed as Morgana opened the door, her face as bright as it usually was this early in the morning. And by this early, you really meant eleven-forty.

“I’m serious Morgo, fuck off. My shift was exhausting and I just want to sleep forever…” you complained, almost hiding as she drew back the curtains to your window. “Morgana?!”

“Get. Up!” She leapt onto your bed, hardly mindful of wherever your limbs lay, before snuggling in next to you, crimson strands of curly hair falling into your face. You sighed heavily. You loved Morgo, you really did, but she could be a total pain in your ass sometimes.

“She still not up yet?” Rowan called from the door, and you swore lowly as he too stepped into your room, followed by Atlas.

“Yeah sure, party in my room. Free real estate up in here!” You called sarcastically from beneath the covers as Rowan attempted to pull them from your body. You gasped in horror, clutching the duvet like your life depended on it.

“Don’t you fucking dare Rowan, I will drown you in shadow I swear to fucking god!” You bit, earning yourself a fit of giggled from Morgana and an appalled gape from Atlas. Your brother placed his hands on his hips, raising a light gold brow as he looked down at you.

“If you could control your powers like I can, maybe I’d believe you, freakshow. C’mon, ouuuuuut of bed.” He strained against your strength as you briefly played tug of war, before you gave up when Atlas stepped in to help your brother, ripping the covers from your clutch with their combined strength and dragging Morgana with it, the girl falling off the foot of your bed with a heavy thump.

“Hey! What the hell?” She slapped Atlas’ thigh and the poor boy jumped back, offering her a shrug of an apology. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Ya know, I don’t know a single twenty-two-year-old who lays in bed all day. Oh, wait, yeah I do. It’s you.” Rowan poked your now exposed foot and you went to kick him half-heartedly. He took a single step back, out of your range.

“Yeah well, none of you fuckers work nights so–”

“I do!” Erin poked her head around the door, toothbrush sticking out from between her white frothy lips. It seems you weren’t the only one out late. “Well, shometimes, it–”

“Take ya brush out ya mouth, Erin…” Atlas sighed, a hand braced against his brow as if being around you all was exhausting. The girl rolled her eyes, tilting her head up so her minty saliva wouldn’t drip all over the wooden floors.

“It depends on the rota, I don’t work late every shift, unlike you.” She finished, placing the toothbrush back in her mouth and dipping out of sight. You heard the tap run as Erin spit out her toothpaste, returning around the door as she wiped her mouth, “We need to get you a new job, girlie. This one’s destroying you. Honestly, you could carry my weekly shop in the bags under your eyes.” Erin crossed the room with the sole purpose of prodding the centre of your nose, before plopping her ass down on the bed next to you.

You looked at the four of them individually, finding a bubble of happiness blooming in your chest. You loved these people. They were your family. They were everything to you. And despite your shitty job, your long hours, the tiny apartment that the seven of you were supposed to share, and how antisocial Naji was, you found yourself feeling extremely grateful for your circumstances.

“I’ll look into it…” you sighed, much to Erin and Altas’ shared glee. Clearly, he was getting tired of healing your various bar-wounds, coming home with various cuts on your palm from where you’d completely misjudged the fall of your knife when slicing up garnish.

“Knew ya would!” Erin chimed, twirling a strand of her badly dyed green hair between her fingers. Her justification was that she could control nature, so surely she should look green, no? But her original black roots had started to show through and she couldn’t be bothered to go through the faff of dyeing it all over again, so she’d just decided to grow it out.

With an irritated sigh, you stretched your arms high above your head, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to rid yourself of the crick in your neck. “Fine, I’ll get up. God, I hate Saturdays. None of you motherfuckers seem to work weekends either.” You grumbled, shooting an exasperated look to Atlas as he muttered ‘language’ under his breath.

“Did you have ya dream again?” Morgana asked, finally removing herself from your floor and dusting herself off. Rowan and Atlas went to head back down the stairs, where you could now smell bacon rising from the kitchen. Maybe it was worth getting up if Rowan was making breakfast. Or lunch, you guessed.

“Hm?” You asked, having not listened to her question at all. The girl rolled her eyes, slapping your arm as she followed you to the bathroom.

“Your dream? Did ya have it? I need to know more about Mr.Sexy and his hot claws.” She grinned and you snorted a laugh, before taking a moment to try to remember if you even dreamed at all last night. Though your awakening had been rude, you’d awoken feeling a slight panic in your chest which had nothing to do with Morgana storming your room. Although if you were being quite honest, you didn’t really want her to know more than she already did. You had a sneaking suspicion she was writing down your dreams in the hopes that she would dream of your nighttime visitor.

“Yeah, actually, I did…” you started hesitantly, giving her reflection in the mirror a flat look as she clapped her hands excitedly. Erin scooted over across your bed so she could be involved in the conversation, listening through the open door. “I don’t remember much of it,” you confessed, rolling your eyes as Morgana’s face fell. “But it was pretty mundane. We were just…” you took a moment, pretending to try and remember what it was about. “We were just chatting. On a bed, but like, a four-poster bed. Same one as last time, with the whole crossed gun thing above the headboard” It was one you’d genuinely had before, and Morgana’s shoulder sagged in disappointment. “Sorry Morgo.”

“Wait that’s so cute, why’re you apologising?” Erin called from the bed, and you snorted a laugh.

“Because I’ve had that one before. It seems to be recurring.” You shrugged, feeling a little nugget of guilt swell in your gut. Now you’d thought about it, your dream last night had been harrowing. You were caked in blood, lying on the road. He was reaching for you, stationary, the world around swirling and blurry with shadows before you blinked and he was gone. Two months you’d been having dreams similar to this one, or at least starring the same man. He was incredibly attractive, hence Morg’s nickname for him after you described him to her, but you knew nothing about him. Each dream he was silent. You were too. You were just near each other, either doing mundane things or going through what you assumed was the worst moment of your dream self’s life. It was really fucking weird.

“Awww… I wanted something new.” Morgana pouted and you narrowed your eyes at her reflection, spitting your toothpaste into the basin before splashing water across your face in a lame attempt to freshen up and wash away the memory of your nightmare.

Twirling to face her, you placed a hand on your hip. “Yeah well, seems my mind’s just conjuring shit on repeat now sooooo…” you made a face and Morgana stuck her tongue out at you, before padding out the bathroom with you in tow.

“Still, s’interesting you get dreams of the same guy. S’like you’re having a relationship in your head… wait no that just sounds sad.” Erin furrowed her brows in an attempt to think of another way of putting it, but gave up almost instantly. You flopped back down on your bed, leaning forward to your chest of drawers against the left side wall, and the fact you could easily reach the drawers from your bed was a testament to just how small your room was. Pulling out a loose pair of sweats and a grey hoodie, you didn’t hesitate to strip in front of the two girls. Having known them since childhood, it was an uncommon occurrence for the three of you to change in front of each other. And this was no different. Though Morgana’s brows furrowed as her eyes found a scar cutting straight across your chest, from just above your left breast, over the centre of your breastbone, to down below the right-hand side of your ribcage. It was gnarled and jagged, a slice made without much care, but you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it.

“That’s new, when’dya get that?” She asked, eyeing you suspiciously. You’re head cocked to one side, raising a brow in confusion.

“I’ve always had this, whaddya mean?” An ember of concern ignited in your gut as you regarded her for a moment. You watched the way her eyes lost focus, almost dissociating for a moment, before she shook her head to clear the haze behind her eyes.

“Right… yeah no you totally have. Sorry, must be goin’ nuts.” The girl grinned, and you inhaled a relieved breath. You didn’t need Morgana careening off the rails right now. She was the one who kept you stable, or at least less grumpy.

“S’alright. Tough few days?” You tugged on your sweats, already hating the fact that in two hours, you’d have to be getting ready for work. It took an hour to commute to the bar, that’s if the buses were on time and not disappearing randomly. God you fucking hated the public transport here.

Morgana nodded a little absently as if still fighting back whatever brain fog she’d just encountered. “Yeah, something like that…” She trailed off, and you didn’t push any further. It happens to all of you from time to time. You were talking to Altlas the other day about the way you’d all graffiti the walls of your first hideout when you were kids, talking in detail about the first sketch you’d done before transferring it onto the wall. Only, he didn’t remember it that way. You went back and forth for a while, until he had that same faraway look enter his eye, and all of a sudden he was agreeing with you, as if a switch was flipped in his brain.

“Oh! Before he left Joseph said you could have the rest of his milkshake, by the way. In payment for the pasta you made him yesterday.” Erin chimed in, examining her nails, her legs sprawled across your bed like it was her own. And honestly, you all acted like that. The rooms were all pretty communal at this point, you’d known each other for so long.

You perked up a little. Milkshake and bacon? Maybe getting up before midday was worth it after all. Not that it was much before midday now, and in fact, the small alarm on your watch just told you it had just gone twelve. Only two hours til you needed to leave.

Fucking great.

“Kind of him, I’d take it with me if Carlos wasn’t such a stickler for company drinks. I think he’d stab me if I brought in my own…” You half-joked, to both Erin and Morgana’s morbid shock.

“Girl we really need to get you a new job.”

“Like, ASAP…” Morg finished, and you scoffed slightly. You didn’t need one that badly. Just one within the next few years would be nice…

You blew out a breath, standing from your bed after pulling on a pair of warm socks. There was a winter chill in the air, and you were certain this year was going to be a cold one. You could feel it in your bones. Rubbing at your arms, you almost slipped down the stairs, Morgana’s hand instantly steadying your steps in a hand clutching your arm. How fucking tired were you? It felt like your legs straight up didn’t damn work.

“Enjoy your trip?” You heard Rowan call from the stove, and you clenched your jaw against your dumb smile. God, you hated that joke. Or, at least, you told yourself you did, when in actual fact it made you smile every damn time he said it.

“Ha-ha, yeah ‘see you next fall’ you’re so fucking funny Ro’.” Smoothing your brow with your hand, you went to sit at the breakfast far, the rest of your found family having forsaken a dining table upon moving in and instead opting for this slightly decrepit, unstable wooden bar with garish-coloured seats that were various heights. Even the lighting matched the anarchy of the decor, the scrappy bulb flickering every so often. None of the furniture matched in your apartment but to be honest, that was part of the reason you loved it so much. It was chaotic, but it was home.

Your heart spasmed in pain, to the point where your brow furrowed. What the fuck just happened? Rowan seemed to have noticed as well, sending your an inquisitive look, which you instantly brushed off. Nothing to worry about. At least, not yet.

Rowan shrugged, shimmying the pan of baken in his hand before removing three slices and placing them on a plate before you, alongside a freshly washed fork clearly leftover from last night’s takeout they all had that you weren’t invited to because you were at fucking work goddamnit.

“Thanks, Ro’, smells great.” You offered him a small smile, one he returned, before heading over to the far too-small fridge to dig out the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d said you could have. You didn’t mind making pasta for him yesterday. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it. Most of the time, when the rest of your family ate, you were at work so you never got the opportunity to cook for them. That was mostly down to Rowan unless he was working the late shift at his apprenticeship, in which case the two of you would leave together and the other’s had to fend for themselves.

It was often a bombsite when you’d return.

With the first mouthful of crispy, smokey bacon, you quickly decided getting out of bed was worth the aggravation, even more so when you dumped a whole load of maple syrup onto your plate. You don’t think you’d ever met a Canadian in your life, but if and when you did, you might just have to kiss them for even being associated with maple syrup.

Speaking of sweet treats…

“Anyone want one of my special hot chocs? I’m annoyed and up early so my treat for having to deal with me,” you grinned a little wickedly into your milkshake, the room whirling in complete surprise, to the point where you had to hold up your hands in defence. “What did I say?”

“Whaddya mean ‘special hot choc’?” Rowan asked accusingly. “I’ve never taught you how to make hot chocolate before!”

“Yeah, I’m with Ro on this one. Since when did you have a special hot chocolate recipe?” Erin almost pouted, as if you’d deliberately been keeping it from her.

You thought for a moment. They were right, you didn’t always have a hot chocolate recipe. You only learned that from…

Wait, who?

And when you went…

Wait, where?

Maybe you didn’t have a special recipe after all. Were you just remembering things wrong? YOu must be. Where and when would you have picked up a special recipe for Christ’s sake? You haven’t been anywhere with anyone to have done that.

Must have been the exhaustion talking. The lights flickered again.

“Must be going crazy…” you mumbled, accepting the fact that no, you didn’t have a special hot chocolate recipe.

You felt something wither away and die in your chest.

“You really gotta stop all those late nights.” Rowan placed a hand on your shoulder, concern etched in the pinch of his brow. It hadn’t been too long ago you and Rowan had fought, the argument you’d had still echoing in your brain. It was over your mutation, and his since it was so similar yet the complete opposite. He’d berated you for not having gained control of it yet after accidentally plunging a supermarket in a blanket of shadow upon finding out they were out of your favourite bread. It wasn’t your fault, really, but you’d made the whole situation worse when you lost complete control.

Three people were taken to hospital.

Two of them died.

You shook your head. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. You’d managed to repair the relationship between you and your brother, there was no point dwelling on the past.

The idle chatter of the kitchen continued as you fell silent, turning your attention instead to the strange series of dreams you’d been having. Most of you only remembered because Morgana would remind you multiple times a day by bringing it up all the time. But there was one thing you hadn’t told her that had occurred in almost every single dream you had.

One word.

Or an animal you guessed.

Or a bug.

Were bugs animals?

Did the animal kingdom include fish and birds as well as mammals?

Shit, you were getting off-topic. Your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember your train of thought. What the fuck were you just thinking about? Your jaw clenched with the effort of remembering. You swore you were deep within–

Firefly.

The chair clattered behind you as you shot from your seat, eyes round and wide in panic. What the fuck was going on? Where were you? You could barely register the faces of those around you, but you knew you hadn’t seen them all in a long long time. You weren’t supposed to be here. None of this was real. You were back, he’d found you again. Shit! Where was L–

“You okay…?”

The tension left your body as Morgana settled a hand on your shoulder, her auburn brows pinched in worry. Darkness swam at the edges of your vision, before you shook your head slightly, freeing yourself of your daze.

“Yeah… shit, yeah, sorry. Fuck, what is wrong with me today?” Your voice shook slightly as you gave your family a slightly nervous smile, bending to pick the chair back up. Fuck, you really needed to sleep more. Fucking job was going to kill you off. For sure.

A quick flick of your wrist and you saw you had around an hour and a half before you needed to leave. A heavy sigh blew from your lips as you downed the rest of Joseph’s milkshake he’d so kindly donated to you, before shooting an annoyed look to the bulb as it briefly turned the kitchen into a club dancefloor, before winking out completely.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…” Rowan lamented, placing down whatever protein shake he’d opted for the morning and dragging over a barstool to stand on. “I told Naji we needed to get this shit fixed and he told me he’d text the landlord, but this is just–”

None of you were strangers to natural phenomena. You were fucking mutants, for Christ’s sake, your very existence was a natural phenomenon. However, watching a barstool blink out of existence entirely wasn’t exactly on your list of things you’d ever seen. Or even things you would like to see. Rowan was cut off midsentence as he crashed to the floor.

You all stood in utterly stunned silence.

“Y’all saw that too, right?” Erin asked, glancing warily around the room before taking a small step toward Atlas next to the window. Well, that was one suspicion you’d had confirmed then. Tension thickened the air, static apprehension making your saliva sweet and your breath hot. What the fuck was going on?

Rowan stood from the ground, dusting himself off, his gaze tracking warily around the perimeter of the room. Another mutant, perhaps? It wasn’t exactly common in the area, but it wasn’t unheard of. Some poor kid with shitty control over their new mutation discovers their first big act of power was accidentally erasing a barstool out of existence. “Chill out, it’s most likely a power cut or some new electromagnetic mutation. We’re fine.” Rowan attempted to soothe, though his voice was anything but convincing. Especially when a squeaked gasp emitted from next to the window, where Atlas had flipped up the blind to the outside world.

“Does the sun get power cuts too? Or did you just absorb a bunch of light this morning, Ro?” Morgana asked, though her eyes were trained on the pitch black outside the crummy window. You crossed the kitchen alongside Rowan, the five of your leaning out of the window to get a good look at whatever the fuck was going on.

Or rather… not going on.

“What the hell…?” Rowan muttered as you all watched the outside world flicker in and out of existence. One second it would be the neighbourhood you’d come to know so well, the next the sky turned grey and grainy, like an old TV trying to find signal. The flat next door would completely disappear, replaced by walls of steel. Your heart raced, stomach flipping.

“Joseph’s still at work…” You breathed, and Morgana turned to you as if she’d only just realised it too, fear flickering in her dark crimson eyes.

“I’ll text him, let me–” Atlas was cut off swiftly, the floor beneath your feet flickering, before that too completely disappeared, and you were all plummeting to the ground. Wind whipped at your hair as you desperately flung your arms out in search of a shadow.

“ERIN!” Morgana screamed as Erin’s hand extended before her, attempting to search for some kind of plant life. But your flat had become nothing, merely glitches of light around you. A strong arm circled your waist and turned to see Rowan’s golden eyes wide with fear.

“My shadow!” He called, flipping the two of you so you were beneath him. You didn’t think twice, trusting he had a plan before your molecules dissolved into the darkness across his front. You could still hear the rush of wind, Morgana’s cry of pain before the descent started to slow and you could sense various shadows around you growing. The moment your world seemed solid enough, you reformed, your eyes taking a moment to adjust before you registered Altas healing the nasty looking cut on Morgana’s hand, blue glowing particles rising from where his palm encased her hand.

She must have slowed your fall, the steel floor now a pool of blood where she’d borderline drained herself to save the rest of you. Wordlessly, you crossed to where she swayed slightly, placing her arm around your shoulder to act as a support.

“Thanks…” She murmured, closing her eyes to recover from that woozy feeling of using too much of her power. You went to brush off her gratitude, to tell her it was the least you could do after she’d just saved your lives, before part of the wall before you started to close in an inch. With a hiss and a screech, the steel split in two, casting a rectangle of blinding light and causing you all to throw up your hands.

“Guys?”

You all knew that voice, and there was a collective sigh of relief when Joseph stepped through the door. But the voice you knew to be full of jokes and laughter sounded exhausted, beaten. Defeated. Where the fuck had he been?

“Joes? What the fuck is going on?” Rowan called, dimming the light so you could all remove your hand-shaped shields from your eyes. “Where’ve you– Holy shit are you okay?” Rowan ran forward, catching Joes as his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

A gasp flew from your lips. He was caked in blood. And not in the way Mogana would be if she somehow lost control. He’d been hurt. Badly. Almost surgically. Various parts of his skin had been removed to leave behind raw, pulsing muscle exposed to the outside. His face had been all but completely disfigured, where his eyes used to be dark and inviting, the whites were now bloodshot and his pupils dilated.

“Move,” Atlas instructed sternly, Rowan shifting slightly to the side before he lay his hands on Joes’ chest in the same way he did for Morgana, those same blue particles rising and winding around Joes like grapevines, dipping into his various wounds and closing them over.

“They’re here to help us,” Joes muttered, his head lolling to look back out the gap in the wall. What the fuck was he talking about? Help you do what? One moment you were all having brunch and you were sipping a milkshake, the next your fucking flat had disappeared and you’d all plummeted fifty feet straight down.

You cast Morgana a confused glance, now recovering quickly, and she sent you one right back. “Who’s here?” You asked, eyes lingering on the fear in Morgo’s before Joes pointed out beyond the darkness and into the light.

Three elongated shadows shrouded the light, but it was the one in the centre who drew your attention. Broad-shouldered, strong-armed, with two little flicks of hair licked up either side of his head. You knew that outline, like a memory forgotten, or a faded dream. With the light behind them, you couldn’t see their faces, but you could see they all wore the same suits. The girl on the right gasped, her hands covering her mouth as she almost fell to her knees.

Morgana tilted her head in confusion, and you shrugged, not taking your eyes from the three shrouded figures.

Though you felt a well of unspecific emotion rise in your chest as the man in the centre spoke, his tone soft, voice deep and gruff.

“Hey, firefly.”

Logan didn’t know what he would say to you when he saw you again. When Jean had told him they’d found a lead, he expected it to be at least another month before anything would actually happen about it. He wasn’t expecting the entire team to have assembled already, suits and all, prepared to head out that night. His chest constricted with impatience when the team were stalking the halls. He knew they all had the element of surprise, but if he was being honest, stealth was never really his strong suit. He just wanted to find you. He just wanted to hold you and apologise as many times as he needed to in order to ease the heavy weight of guilt off his shoulders.

What would he say to you? How much he’d fucking missed you? How sorry he was he couldn’t protect you. How he’d promised he’d keep you safe and then lost you? But the moment those doors opened and he saw you, with Sanguine leaning heavily on your shoulders, all and any words quickly left his mind. You looked tired. That wasn’t to say you didn’t always look tired, but you looked fucking exhausted. Dangerously skinny, as well. The muscles on your arms had all but faded, your cheeks had hollowed, and your neck looked like it could be snapped with a light breeze. Fuck you looked so fragile.

“We’re gonna get you out, okay?” Logan took a step forward, only for you and the rest of the mutants to take a step back. A spear thudded into the centre of his soul as he watched you try to figure out what was going on. But it was the look in your eyes that shattered every fibre of his being.

Unfamiliarity.

You had no idea who he was.

“They don’t remember,” Joes said, rising from the floor once Atlas had taken a step back away from Logan, Scott and Kitty. She’d insisted she came with the rest of the team and said she’d just hide in the walls anyway, so they may as well take her along willingly. Scott begrudgingly agreed.

“We don’t remember what?” Logan’s eyes slid to the man with the golden hair and eyes, who looked remarkably similar to you. Rowan. His eyes narrowed. “Joes what the fuck is going on? What don’t we remember? Who are you fuckers?”

“Rowan!” The man next to him hissed. Judging from his appearance and general attitude, Logan guessed that must have been Atlas, or Harmony. He’d already run into Joseph, and rescued him when Ororo controlled enough lightning to short out their electrical units, plunging the facility into total darkness. All that was left of that practice room was blood and entrails.

Logan had made sure of it.

“None of this is real, Ro’. They’ve been forcing Naji to fuck with our minds, man. Every time one of us goes to ‘work’, they take us out into the real world and fuck with us. You saw the state I was in, man. C’mon!” Joseph pleaded, and Logan could see the cogs turning in your brain as if trying to process what he was saying.

“The fuck are you talking about?” The girl with the bright green hair piped up, boldly stepping towards Joseph and dragging him back towards the rest of the group protectively. “Who’s ‘they’? Whaddya mean fuck with us?”

“Naji wouldn’t do that, Joes.” Your just managed to keep the tremor from your voice, dropping Morgana’s arm from around your shoulders and taking a cautious step towards your brother. What the fuck was going on? You looked between the three newcomers, the girl on the right stepped forward, and your eyes narrowed on her. “Another step and you’re dead.” You hissed, extending your hand behind you to the shadows as if you could do anything but disappear into them. Morgana drew out her knife from her boot and sliced open her palm, blood swirling and morphing until three sharp spears floated above her head.

“Let’s all just take a breath…” Logan murmured in an attempt to soothe the rising tensions in the room. Why he’d thought this would go smoothly, he had no idea and found his present self kicking his past self for making such stupid fucking assumptions. He held out his palms in peace, trying in vain to come across as non-threatening as possible, his eyes trained on you. “It’s okay…” His brows pinched as you looked at him with disdain.

Who the fuck was this guy? Sure he looked and sounded exactly the same as your dream visitor, but you refused to believe they were one of the same. Just some freaky coincidence, and you didn’t even know if his mutation was the same. He hadn’t shown anything yet, and for all you knew, it could be something completely different.

But a hole of doubt had burned through your gut.

“Wait… isn’t that–”

“Shut the fuck up, Morgo.” You hissed before Morgana could even finish her inquiry. You knew exactly what she was about to ask, you’d felt her eyes flicker between you and the man ever since he’d called you firefly.

Total coincidence…

“She has a point though. Naji wouldn’t do that to us. Sure he’s antisocial and spends most of his time in his room, but we’re still his friends. His family. He wouldn’t do that… would he?” Uncertainty laced Erin’s tone as she eyed the three outsiders suspiciously, reaching into her back pocket. You glanced her way, holding your breath. You knew what he had stored away in her cargo pants, not just in her back pocket, but in all of them. Various seeds for every variety of plant you could think of, her favourite being the Venus fly trap because of course that was Erin’s favourite plant.

Logan’s chest spasmed at Erin’s words. He knew he was going to have to take them all to Charles and return their memories to them. Not knowing what would happen to the bonds you’d all made with each other terrified him. What if that just made everything ten times worse? What if you and the others remembered everything and decided to go along with Kreva’s plan? He’d already seen Rowan, Morgana and Joseph working for Kreva…

What would stop them this time?

“This is taking too damn long…” Scott muttered, throwing a glance behind his shoulder to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them. Logan couldn’t help but agree. It was taking far too long. He didn’t want to take any of you by force. That was a last resort, and only if you couldn’t be convinced. If it went against your current wishes, he honestly didn’t give a fuck. You weren’t safe here. You were back where you started, and he’d be fucking damned if he was leaving without you today. Taking the others was a luxury, taking you was the priority.

“Let me talk to them. Please. They don’t know what’s going on. Naji restores our memories before the testing begins, but they’re always erased and replaced when we come back. They don’t know anything, just give them time.” Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Joseph. He was the only one out of the group, perhaps other than Naji, who knew what was going on and was stuck between saving his friends and getting the fuck out of there.

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Scott!” It was the first time Kitty had spoken up since seeing you, and to be honest, Logan had almost completely forgotten she was there. She’d been non-verbal, dealing with whatever she was dealing with after seeing you in the state you were in for the first time in two months. Now, however, she seemed to have recovered.

Unlike Logan, who still found it difficult to look at you, yet equally difficult to look away.

“Thank you, man,” Joseph nodded his head in gratitude, before turning back to the rest of the group. “Look, I don’t know how to convince you, but they got a mutant back at this crazy mutant school that can help get your memories back. He’s like, the only one other than Naji who can do it.”

“If this is true,” you began, folding your arms across your chest in a way that had Logan holding his breath, the familiarity nauseating. “Then why don’t we just ask Naji to restore them? He’s our fucking friend, Joes. Why would he do this?” You implored him to see reason. To see that there was no reality where Naji would work against the group, antisocial or not.

“Because they’ve–”

“Now now, Subject Three. Don’t go spoiling all of our secrets now, will you?”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, though the voice meant nothing to you. You didn’t recognise it at all, but you noticed the way the three newcomers all bristled and the way Joes seemed to shrivel in fear. Following ‘Scott’’s gaze, you looked up to see Naji, bruised and beaten, his neck held in a vice grip by some formless, faceless figure with a large gun slung over his back. The mirrored window had been smashed open, blood leaking from Naji’s knuckles as his legs dangled over the side, held out over the shattered glass by the throat.

“Joes…” Rowan growled in instruction, the rest of you already being on the same page. Joes could teleport not only himself but various other people of different numbers depending on size and mass. But the man just stood there, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring in utter terror as Naji gurgled and fought against the hold around his neck.

“Kreva.” You heard the muscular man behind you snarl, and your mind did somersaults as three long, razor-sharp claws slid from his knuckles. There was no point in denying it anymore. It was most definitely the same mutant from your dreams.

“Ah, The Wolverine. How darling to see you again. Here for Subject Eight, I presume? There’s no point. It remembers nothing of your cosy little forest getaway.” Dr Kreva covered his mouth theatrically, gasping as if he’d made a terrible mistake. “Oh no, have I said too much? No matter. Once all you X-men are disposed of, this will be nothing but a bad dream to them. Isn’t that right, Eight?” It took a moment to realise the skinny, crooked-nosed man was addressing you, but how the fuck were you supposed to know that when he wasn’t even calling you by your name. And what the fuck did he mean by ‘cosy forest getaway’? You’d never even left the city.

“The fuck is going on…?” You asked aloud, taking a step back and towards Joes, who was still stuck in frozen, abject horror. “Joes… you gotta get him. He’s gonna fucking kill him!” You hit his arm with enough force to break the man from his terror-stricken paralysis, only for him to blink away from you, shaking his head wildly as if his mind was a wasp’s nest, his nails digging into either side of his temple.

“No no no nono nononononono–” Your mouth fell agape in fear as he fell to his knees, small rivulets of blood leaking down either side of his face as he clawed at the sides of his head.

“Joes?”

“Joes!”

“The hell?”

Adrenaline pumped through your blood as you slowly started to realise whatever the fuck was going on, it very much was not good. In fact, it was most likely that all of your lives were on the line. And you knew that right here, right now, you had to make a choice. You all did.

“You got a clear shot, Scott?” Kitty asked, stepping behind Logan slightly. Though he didn’t mind. As long as she was safe and out of the line of whatever fire could come their way, he was more comfortable. Now if only he could get you in a similar way.

“Lined up.”

“Don’t shoot!” Rowan waved his arms frantically as Scott’s fingers braced against his glasses, jumping between the mutant and his friend. “If you shoot Naji’s dead, for sure. Just– just hold on, okay? We can figure this out.” He pleaded, to the amusement of Dr. Kreva from above, his cackling laughter sure to haunt your nightmares for a good long while after.

“Oh, Five… always the peacekeeper. Always the pacifist. It’s a shame you’re such a killing machine, though nothing like your sibling. We should showcase that, Eight. Show them all what you’re capable of…” Kreva placed a thumb and forefinger beneath his chin mockingly, once again making a show of having you all at his mercy. “In fact… One, if you could. Not too much though, just enough to unleash the Phantom.” You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. That was your mutant name… how the fuck did he–

Pain ripped through your mind as you fell to your knees, your hands biting painfully as you caught yourself before you broke your nose on the ground. Though where you should have felt cold steel, you instead heard the groaning of tight leather and a low grunt of impact.

It felt as if you were being unstitched, torn open with a rusty knife. Your head split apart and searched inside as Naji’s mutation invaded your conscience. You heard a scream coming from somewhere but were too focused on trying to stay sane as memory fragments of pure agony were thrust into the inner walls of your mind, scraping down your subconscious. White hot pain laced through your throat and you finally realised it was you screaming, your voice cracking and breaking as you fought Naji’s hold.

Rowan screamed your name as Logan lunged forward to catch your fall, dragging you into his lap and holding your arms by your sides. “We gotta go!” He roared to Scott, who nodded in agreement, barking out orders just as Kurt bamfed into existence. Morgana reached for you as Kurt placed his three-fingered hand on her shoulder, her desperate scream cut short as she was teleported from the room. Logan turned his attention back to you, back to the searing torment etched on your face as you writhed in his arms. “I know baby, I know, it hurts, just hold on.” He called your name soothingly, though his voice shook. Seeing you like this, in such pain, ripped at his self-control. And he loathed how you would have to do this all again when he got you back home.

What Logan didn’t know, was that you’d heard his voice, and held onto it. You wouldn’t let yourself be manipulated so easily. Fighting Naji hurt. It hurt like hell. He was fucking strong, winding a white-hot thread of memories throughout your head, but you thrashed and flailed from his twisting web, using your dream visitor’s voice as an anchor point.

“What’s happening to her?” Logan’s eyes left your face for two seconds to meet with a pair of golden ones he’d only ever seen fighting against him. Rage flared in his gut as he thought of the man who’d assisted in your capture, but this wasn’t the same guy. Sure, he had his body and his face and his powers, but this was a sibling. A brother. He was your brother, and Logan could see that in the way terror pinched his brows and widened his eyes.

“I don’t know, but we need to get her out. Now.” Logan responded, removing a hand from your arm to smooth back your hair as your neck all but snapped backwards, head almost rolling off his lap completely as your entire body contorted violently. It was getting worse.

Rowan nodded, a flicker of determination glittering in his golden eyes, before extending his hand out towards the light. “I can buy you time. Get her safe,” he instructed, and Logan found his rage toward him settling slightly. “I’m R–”

“Rowan. Yeah, I know. She spoke about you a shit ton.” He gave Rowan a half smile as his head tilted in confusion. Logan held out his hand. “Logan.”

Though the bafflement didn’t fade, Rowan shook his hand nonetheless, before getting to his feet, his hand still extended towards the light. “When I say run, run.”

“Thought you were a pacifist?” Logan asked, holding you tight against his chest as he lifted you from the ground, the shadows in the room now quivering in anticipation. Naji was winning. With a glance to both Scott and Kitty, he could see they’d been listening in and were ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“Not when they threaten my fucking sister,” He spat, the skin along his forearms and neck beginning to glow a bright, blinding white. “Go.” Was all he said, before the room erupted in sunlight, and Logan took off at a sprint, keeping you close to his heart. He had you back physically, your strained breaths and grunted whimpers told him that much.

Now he just needed to get you back mentally. And for that, he needed Charles.

“S’okay, you’re okay, just a little longer baby, I know…” he soothed as he raced round the corner, struggling to hold you still as you fought his hold, the darkness of the corridor lashing out in great, spiked tendrils, slashing at his arms and legs and leaving searing lines of crimson through the leather of his suit. His stomach flipped as he looked down at you, your spine arching back, head snapping, eyes rolling up behind your skull leaving behind nothing but black, hollow darkness. He was losing you. Fuck, he was losing you.

“C’mon on sweetheart, c’mon.” He ground, feet pounding against the floor as one of his shoulders was ripped back, knives of pure shadow tearing through flesh. He grit his teeth against the pain, racing through a set of open doors and launching the two of you towards the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Your mouth opened as you released a strangled scream, your limbs jerking and flailing in his grasp, Logan almost losing his grip on your writhing body. Tucking your head between his collar and jaw, he pressed on until he could finally see the service door they’d snuck in through. “S’okay, not much farther now. Keep fightin’ him, firefly. You gotta keep fightin’.”

Serrated knives tore through your memories, flashes of pure, unadulterated agony rushing your nerves, setting your veins alight with liquid fear. Thrashing your head back, you attempted to clear your mind’s eye of Naji’s hold, razorwire slicing at the base of your brain. You had very little knowledge of brain anatomy, only knowing the basics, but you knew for certain he was attempted to break through your hippocampus both physically and hypothetically. But you held onto him. Onto the man who, in turn, held you. A kernel of safety shining within the ocean of fiery anguish. You held onto his voice, their meaning.

Shadows swirled around your wrists, encasing your hands in two sets of obsidian claws, raking down both sides of Logan’s arms. You were losing the battle, he knew you were, if Joseph was right and you didn’t remember anything, there was no way you’d have this kind of control over your mutation. Using his already-healed shoulder, he burst through the locked service door and barrelled down the stone tunnel, out into the night-air. He didn’t know what Obscurity’s range was for his mutation, but he had to assume it was limitless. Anything less and he was likely to let his guard down.

Breath burned in his lungs as he sprinted for the jet, hearing the door behind him open and close another two times for both Scott and Kitty. He didn’t know how many of your friends Kurt had managed to rescue, but it didn’t matter to him. You were there, in his arms. And as long as that was his reality, he didn’t give a shit about anything else.

His feet thundered against the metal of the ramp, and ducking into the deck of the Blackbird, he was greeted by an extremely concerned-looking Jean the moment her eyes lay on you.

“Help me…” Logan begged, collapsing to his knees, and the redhead wasted no time in extending her hand towards your rapidly twitching head, veins of pitch black etching their way up your neck towards your temples. Instantly, Jean grimaced, her mouth gaping in some unseen pain as she entered your mind. All Logan could do was sit and watch helplessly as she engaged in some kind of mental battle with Naji. Her brows pinched with effort, the tendons along the backs of her hands flexing and tensing with strain. Logan desperately swiped your sweat-matted hair from your brow as if to clear a better path for Jean’s mutation.

“Jean!” Scott barked, fear echoing around the deck of the jet as he lunged forward towards his girlfriend, only to be held back by Ororo, who looked utterly exhausted. She’d been high above the facility, concentrating on keeping the power down with various surges of lightning. And now she looked completely spent.

Slowly, gradually, your twitching started to cease, each muscle in your body relaxing separately as Jean managed to exorcise your mind of Naji’s manipulation, until you sagged in Logan’s arms, your breathing steady, your eyes closed as if you were just sleeping. Scott broke free of Ororo’s hold, rushing for Jean before she collapsed onto the hard ground. “You okay?” He asked, bracing her face in between his palms. Jean offered him a tired nod, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Got her back.” She murmured, and Logan clenched his jaw to stop tears welling in his eyes. He gently manoeuvred your body to lie comfortably in his lap, the back of your head nestled in the crook of his elbow, his arm encasing your waist. You were back.

You were back.

Kitty knelt beside you, a hand grasping your limp, skeletal one, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. Logan knew what she was thinking. What she was contemplating. What had they done to you? What fresh horrors would you be battling once they returned your memories? Logan’s thumb slowly caressed your protruding ribs. He’d be there with you. Whatever you had to endure next, whatever fresh hell awaited you when you woke, he’d be right there next to you.

“We gotta go…” Scott muttered urgently to Ororo, who looked out beyond the ramp to the Blackbird, awaiting Kurt’s next arrival.

“We can’t… they’re still in there!” Morgana raised her head from where she’d been sat on one of the seats. “Atlas, Joseph, Naji and Rowan are still–” she was cut off by another puff of blue smoke, Kurt falling to the ground and releasing Rowan’s arm from around his shoulder. Blood leaked from the blonde’s nose, his hands braced against the steel as he caught his breath.

“Is she okay?” Were his first words, barely looking around before his golden eyes rested on your unconscious form and Logan’s protective hold. He could almost smell your brother’s disdain, his nostrils flaring as he slowly pieced together the narrative in front of him. “Logan, right?”

Logan nodded once, returning Rowan’s cold look with one of his own, baring his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to gauge the threat of you being taken from him again. Rowan visually backed off, his expression to exhaustion. “I guess a lot can happen when you don’t see someone for eight years. As long as you take care of her, that’s cool with me.” Rowan shrugged, having recognised just exactly what he was looking at.

As the Blackbird rose from the ground, Morgana clicked the belt across her middle and shakily made her way over to sit next to Rowan, eyes flickering between you and him.

“So… those dreams she had… they were actually memories?” She asked him slowly, and it took a moment for Logan to process all the subtext of the question before he nodded again. Even with your memories replaced, you could never truly forget him. The realisation made his chest swell and his heart ache. He was acutely aware of Rowan listening into the conversation. “Holy shit…” She breathed, tapping your arm lightly. “I hope you’re listening, you lucky bitch. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

So this was the Morgana from the reports. This was the girl he’d read about, not the one who aided in your capture two months ago. What the fuck had Kreva done to you all? How could he get Naji to manipulate you all in such a way? To the point where you’d all help him. Although it was a nice breath of fresh air for even a thread of humour to be woven into the cockpit. “Right, Erin? You’re with me on this, yeah?”

Morgana turned to the green-haired girl who’d curled up against the wall, her hands hugging her knees against her chest. “Erin…?” Morgana asked tentatively, and only then did Erin look up.

“We fucking left them.” She spat, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. “Atlas… Joes, Naji…. We just fucking left them. You got your precious Phantom back and just abandoned the rest of them.” Her hands flexed around her knees, chest tight.

“I’m sorry…” Kurt piped up from where he’d been nursing a small graze on his arm. “I couldn’t… It was carnage in there. I rescued who I could but–”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t fucking good enough. Who said we even needed rescuing anyway? This could all be total bullshit.” She hissed through gritted teeth, and Rowan placed a hand protectively on your shoulder. Logan knew he shouldn’t have bristled the way he did, the man had proven himself loyal, but he couldn’t help the memories of that night flashing to the forefront of his mind.

“Erin, we’re not abandoning them. We’re gonna go get them back, right?” Rowan looked to the rest of Logan’s team, who in turn looked at each other in uncertainty. They had you back. That’s what they came for. But something niggled at Logan’s mind. You wouldn’t stop there. If the tables had been turned and you were saving him, you wouldn’t stop until everyone was safe. He himself included, but that was given.

“No. We’re not abandoning them,” He spoke for his team, five heads snapping towards him, each with their own look of shock. “Ya know she’s just gonna go after them herself, right? And she wouldn’t stop til they’re all safe. And I dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t letting her do that alone.” He finished, and Kitty smiled at him with tearful determination.

“Agreed.” She said, turning to the rest of the team. Ororo nodded and Scott sighed heavily, only swayed when Jean placed a hand on his arm.

“Alright then… guess that’s our next mission.” Scott sighed, irate.

“Thank you. They’re our friends so we really– Joes?” Morgana’s head tilted to the side as suddenly, seemingly out of thin air, Joseph blinked to existence, Rowan’s wrist held firmly in his grasp. Logan’s heart stopped. This wasn’t the same mutant they’d saved from testing during the mission. His eyes were glazed over, subdued hatred burning in his pupils as Rowan turned to his friend.

“Just Five.” He rasped, white foam leaking from his cracked lips.

“Joes? What’s–”

“ROWAN!” Logan roared, lunging across your form to take hold of your brother, only his fingers grazed nothing but thin air. Whatever Naji had done to Joes, it was the same thing he’d done to Morgana that night. And Rowan all too often.

But he was gone. Your brother was gone. And now there was no debate about what you’d do when you woke.

He just hoped, that whatever Charles restored, would be enough to get your brother back too. For your sake.

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett #x men logan #x men wolverine #x men x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan smut #the wolverine #logan x reader smut #the wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you

162 notes · View notes

ticktokrobotsnot · 2 years ago

Text

Cooking Up Speculations

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: With y/n rushing around to doll herself up for an event, it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: I have never written something like this before, and I thought I would give it a shot. I haven't checked the grammar, but if Google Docs missed anything, that's none of my business.

warning: alcohol and mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close.

The prep work was close to done and for once in The Bear’s short existence it was not a screaming disastrous mess. Everyone was on track and prepared, the sauces were sitting in the fridge, the cakes were waiting to be sliced, the rolls were warm and ready to be cut open and it was all thanks to (y/n) coming in extra early this morning. She had started the prep work for most of the chefs that had yet to arrive in the effort of softening the blow. She would be abandoning them for the dinner rush on what was predicted to be a very busy day.

What sport was being played? Who is playing? And who won were all unknown to y/n but all she knew was that the restaurant was going to be filled with rowdy and obnoxiously drunk men who were going to make everyone’s life miserable and she was going to get a “get out of jail free card”. She felt a small pang of guilt for basically leaving them for dead but sacrifices had to be made and if she could cover anyone’s shift with little to no notice she was allowed one day to herself.

The restaurant was expecting the dinner rush to crawl in at about 6:30 pm which left y/n about an hour and a half to get ready. Y/n was finishing up cutting up some garnishes so that everything would be perfect. The sounds of a spoon slapping skin was approaching and y/n knew that she needed to state her case convincingly so she could leave early. Fighting the urge to not bring anything up, work through her shift and miss her event was deviously tempting but with a deep inhale she put the knife down and turned on the balls of her feet.

Her (e/c) eyes meet his and before she could choke out a lame excuse as to why she was blocking him she spit out, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Carmen looked expectantly, he thought she was going to ask him to taste test the braised beef she had just finished prepping, or ask an obscure question about the food science between ingredients. Y/n had once asked if he found it annoying during one of their late night clean up sessions and he said it was a nice change of pace and he really didn’t mind. How could he when you were so eager to learn?

Y/n didn’t want to do this out here, people are working and if she was going to beg, which is how she expected the next 5 minutes to go, she didn’t want any witnesses. The damage that would do to her pride would force her to change her name, move to Vegas and make money by selling timeshares to idiot tourists.

She cleared her throat, “Privately, chef”

Although his face didn’t betray anything, y/n knew that she had caught him off guard. After a while of spending most of their time together cleaning the kitchen after hours and talking about every minute detail in their lives, y/n knew that she had raised a few alarm bells in Carmen’s head. If she paid attention she could hear the sounds of a car alarm blaring in the back of his head signifying that he thought something was wrong. He always assumed the worst possible would happen, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He wordlessly guided y/n to his office. The door was closed and it felt like they were transported to a different dimension where there was nothing outside but the vacuum of space, it was just the two of them in this room and if one of them were to leave the outside pressure would make their body implode and smash into the size of a ping pong ball. She really didn’t want any of them to leave.

With a silent inhale, “I have to leave early today.”

Carmen softened the crease in between his eyebrows, “ Yeah sure, take the day off.” The imaginary crisis was averted and the car alarm stopped blaring in Carmen’s head.

Y/n was surprised that he was being so easy today. Y/n had yet to ask for a day off but she had spent last night imagining the worst possible scenarios possible, she would get yelled at, rejected, or worst he would guilt her for leaving them to deal with the upcoming shit storm.

“Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a fight.” Y/n joked, “I even made this whole pitch to convince you.”

“ I can hear the pitch so that it doesn’t go to waste,” Carmen said with a glint of humour in his eyes.

Carmen was giving her an inch and so she might as well take the whole mile. Knowing she was about to push her luck and Carmen’s patience a bit more she continued.

“I came in at 4am and started everyone’s prep and helped Tina with the sandwiches during lunch, and did all of Syd’s prep because she had that doctor’s appointment. And I think it's cruel and unusual that you wouldn’t give me a day off when all I did today was prove how much of an angel I am. The least I can get is a measly day off…What you're not gonna give me a day off you selfish prick? You see this is what always happens, little guys always get pushed aside by the Big man. Carmen you're supposed to be better than those billionaire pricks who probably hunt their interns for sport. And I think it's so unfair that I grace you and this business with my presence and I don't even get a single day off- ” Carmen let out an exhale from his nose and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk. The move had almost made y/n fall to her knees, the way his hair was tousled, the way he looked up at her with his sharp blue eyes, the tattoo flexing on his hands that were a calloused and dry from years of washing them nearly a hundred times a day, the veins trailing up from his hands to under his white shirt.

“Okay, I get gist.”

Y/n knew he didn’t ask for an explanation but she wanted to keep him here for just a bit longer.

“I have this thing I have to go to and I live too far away to go home and change so I need your office to get ready. I would get changed and stuff in the bathroom but the lighting is really bad, the outlets don't work, it’s smelly-”

After a quick glance at his watch he realised that he had a few vendors coming by and he needed to get back to the kitchen. “I know, that bathroom is a real shit show. I told Fak to fix it but nothing he fixes lasts for very long. The office is yours.” Carmen rushed out.

“I'm going to be here till 12 so if there is anything you need me to do before I leave just give me a holler.”

Carmen gave a nod of appreciation before his eyes lingered on her face for a second before grabbing a few papers and a clipboard and then opening the door to leave. It was stupid and childish but y/n held her breath wondering if he would be crushed to the size of a ping pong ball as soon as he left but when she heard him yelling at Richie she knew that the “alone in space” fantasy had died.

Y/n slipped out and went to her locker where she pulled out a dress, makeup and a straightening iron. She had an hour and a chance to make herself look like she just came out of a Mattel box and it was a daunting task for someone who didn’t have much experience dressing up.

Makeup was a bit of a disaster at first because she didn’t want to ruin any of Carmy’s papers but after she accidentally dabbed a bit of concealer on a light bill she just stopped giving a fuck and finished up. The hair was tricky, the outlet was near the ground and she had to crouch to straighten her hair.

The last and most daunting task was the dress because y/n was about to strip in her bosses office and although she had dreams about something this amazing, the reality was much less sexy. In a small burst of paranoia she rolled the chair over to the door so no one would walk in by accident and quickly changed. In the back of her mind all she was thinking about was the small glimmer of hope that Carmy would be the one to walk in. In reality, it would be Rich or Fak because boundaries were a foreign concept to the both of them.

And with 10 minutes to spare, y/n was done. She sprayed some perfume and hyped herself up to leave. She knew she would get teased so she wanted a smooth exit, an Irish goodbye would be perfect, fingers crossed hoping that Richie was out back so she would get out before he made these stupid jokes.

After a few deep breaths, y/n picked up her things and opened the door. The coast was clear and she made a beeline to the lockers to grab her purse, change her shoes and go. She would leave most of her stuff, because if you want to survive you have to be light, like those firefighters that ditch their equipment so that they don't get burned alive. Everyone looked busy and with a quick once over, y/n tried to walk through the kitchen. And although women and heels have had centuries of history, the heels still managed to betray her at the very end. The long sound of heel on tile brought Syd’s head up. Y/n eyes widened as she shook her head as to signal to Syd to drop it but Syd let out a playful gasp and Y/n knew that the jig was up.

“You look amazing.”

And a sea of eyes were looking at y/n.

“You get all dressed up for me?” Syd joked and for a split second y/n wondered if she could make a run for it before she realised that she would fall and crack her head open.

“Who else?” Y/n joked back hoping to get out before she was held captive by their questions.

“You look so nice, where are you headed?” Tina said as she came closer and dragged you closer to everyone.

“Umm- I was actually going to-”

“You know who you look like?” One of those women who seduces James Bond at a casino.” Sweeps commented unhelpfully. A hum of agreement was shared among the crew. Y/n’s face grew warm.

“So where are you going?”

“A date, women don't dress like that if it's not for a date” Ebra chimed in.

Another gasp, “ IS it a date, is he handsome?” Sydney probed.

“Actually, I'm not- '' Y/n tried to finish before she was interrupted.

“What type of car does he drive?”

“We'll see when he picks her up. When is he picking you up?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CLOWN JABBERING ABOUT '' Richie burst through the door to see what all the commotion was about and he looked like he was in utter disbelief.

“I didn’t know that it was possible for you could look like that”

Y/n was slightly offended.

“You normally look like death.” Richie laughed. Scratch that y/n was very offended.

“I could look like this everyday if I wasn’t in front of a stove, you clown.”

Ignoring her, Richie asked the room,“ Where is she headed?”

“A date”, Sweeps added.

“I'm going to my friends-” y/n tried to interject.

“A date huh, our little y/n is all grown up now. Soon we’ll be sending her off to college.” Wiping a fake tear and leaning on Tina for mock support, “They leave the nest so soon, it was like it was just yesterday when I saw her struggling to walk.”

“It WAS yesterday and I was only struggling because I hit my knee on the shelfs in the walk-in.”

“Who’s the guy?” Richie asked

“ Your dad.” Y/n knew it was childish and unoriginal but she was too flustered to be a bit more creative.

Richie ignores her and continues, “You know what you look like? You look like one of those girls who kills Johns”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?”

“A classy one for like the president and shit.”

“or an ambassador,” Ebra added.

“or a CEO,” Richie continued.

Y/n knew it was going to be tough but she wanted to get out before she was stuck forever.

“I have to go now, I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow. Richie you suck major ass. And just so you know, i'm not going on a-”

Carmen walked in with a clipboard and a pen not even sparing a glance up.

“Ok, I just got the beef delivered so we should have enough for Ebra till the end of the week.”

“Heard, chef”

“And Marcus”, who watched the whole thing and didn’t offer any help to y/n except the occasional chuckle.

“I have your eggs”

“Heard, chef”

Although no one said it, everyone was waiting for the moment that Carmen looked up and saw y/n. The dishwashers who never really left their stations shut off the water and were subtly watching this mess unfold.

It was the longest that y/n had seen Richie quiet. He just stared at Carmen, while hiding his mocking smile under the guise of rubbing his stubble.

“I know we are low on onions but the guy is coming in a bit so sit tight”

“Heard”

Maybe, y/n thought, she would be able to walk past Carmen unnoticed if she walked on the balls of her feet so that the heels made less noise. Y/n took a step forward to hightail it out of here so she could make it in time and even though the heel was a lot quieter then last time, the unusual silence in the kitchen made it impossible to disguise the sound.

The sound of heels on tiles brought Carmen back to reality.

He looked up and y/n didn’t know if she imagined it but she thought she saw him raise his eyebrows. And if she was really going to feed into her delusions, she would say that his eyes widened and his pupils dilated too.

All that came crashing down thought, because after a beat of silence barring the sounds of sizzling and bubbling. Carmen questioned, “I thought you would have left by now chef.”

“I got held back but I really do need to leave now. I'm going to miss you guys and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” And with a quick wave y/n brushed shoulders with Carmen as she left. The smell of her perfume lingered and Carmen felt a bit dizzy.

Carmen wanted to ask where y/n was going but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, not when the two of you have already gotten so close. Richie had different plans, “Hey cousin guess where y/n going?”

“I don’t know cousin, that isn’t really any of our buis-”

“She is going on a date”

“A hot one” Syd chirped

“With a nice car” Ebra added

Richie’s comment felt like a ton falling on his head. Now he felt a different type of dizziness. He quickly composed himself

“Chefs, we have a dinner rush coming, now is not the time.” Carmen said with a bit of an edge.

Richie led Carmen to the front under the guise of asking a question about the tablet. The crew looked around and shared a knowing snicker.

“I can't believe that you let her go like that?” Richie added. “Right now she is in some guy's car about to get wined and dined to high heaven while you wait here with your cock in your hand like some cuck.”

“ Cuck?” Carmen said with venom, it's like he was giving Richie a chance to take it back before he killed him.

“I would be fucken pissed. I wouldn’t let someone take my girl out like that, all dressed up for someone who isn't me”

For a second Carmen imagined you sitting across from your rich new date with the nice car and the handsome face and felt like throwing up. He was angry, he was angry with this “date”, he was angry at Richie for saying all that stupid shit to get a reaction, and embarrassingly enough he was angry at y/n. He had no right to be but he just couldn’t help it.

“Richie if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to send you flying out the fucking window”

“Yes, chef.” Richie mockingly replied.

And with a swift turn Carmen returned to the kitchen with a different temperament then he had 10 minutes ago.

The dinner rush was a nightmare, but the kitchen was hell. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t set Carmen off. He wasn’t screaming like he was with the to-go orders but he was on edge. They could feel it when they had to remake dishes because he didn’t like them, or when they had to listen to him criticise innocuous things after housekeeping. When that dinner rush ended, the crew looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. The second the restaurant closed, chefs cleaned as fast as they could to get the hell out of there. It was the fastest they had cleaned since the morning rush with the pre-orders.

With a quick goodbye, everyone but Carmen left the restaurant hoping that he would be in a better mood tomorrow.

Carmen did what he did every night, got on his knees and scrubbed the floor with a towel. Carmen knew it was unfair and he knew he had no right to dictate what you did. You weren’t his and he waited too long. A part of him understood where y/n was coming from, during one of their late night conversations he had mentioned that he had never had a girlfriend and he didn’t really have the time. This conversation took place some time after the two had gotten close but before he realised that he might have liked her for quite some time. Things were different now and Carmen wanted more.

He tried his best to be understanding but the thought of y/n clinging onto someone else’s arm and laughing at their stupid unfunny joke, made him livid. What if they kiss? Or what if they sleep together?” That thought made him stop scrubbing and sit on the balls of his feet and throw the wet towel with an unnecessary amount of force to another corner of the kitchen. He couldn’t do this today, he couldn’t be here. He got up and cleaned up the towel and bucket of dirty soap water and walked home.

He ended his night with a nightcap hoping that he would fall asleep easily but it didn’t work. He spent a good amount of time staring at y/n contact hovering over the call button before flaking out because it was 2 in the morning and he had to get to work at 6:30. Maybe Richie was right and he was a coward but before he could think too long, sleep had overcome him.

The restaurant was a bit of a walk away from Carmen’s house but he never minded it before, it felt like a good buffer between “Home Carmen” and “Work Carmen”. Today was different, he couldn't not think about y/n and that annoying date of her’s so for the first time in his time in Chicago he listened to music on his way to work. The music was so loud that it was just obnoxious noise and allowed him to stop worrying for a few moments. Carmen couldn’t think about y/n without feeling a bit… he didn’t know how he felt he just knew it was not a great feeling.

Being the first one in the restaurant was not new to him but it felt strange that after 30 minutes he was still the only one there, normally y/n would be there by now asking Carmen about a baking show they both happened to catch the night before, or ask what he ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Carmen would always fight the urge to lie and say that he cooked something magnificent when in reality he probably ate a bag of chips and drank some flat soda. One of the things that these AA meetings emphasised was honesty, to both himself and others, and even if it was embarrassing he told you the truth. You never really judged him because you did the same thing.

After sorting through fuck ton of bills, a few of which had brown power on them and one of them had a (s/c) smudge on the corner he heard a buzz in his pocket. He looked at it hoping it was you saying that you'll be there any second.

(Y/N): I'm so sorry to do this to you but I'm going to be a bit late today, not super late but like an hour. I have to grab my extra apron from my place and I'm a bit far from there. I'll be there by 8 the latest. Again, super sorry :(

Carmen read the text a few times to check if he read that right, you were going to be late because you weren't home and slept somewhere else and needed a change of clothes. Which translated to, you were with someone else, which means you might have done something with someone else. He just stared at the text for a few more seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening, Carmen didn’t have to look to know it was Sydney. He snapped out of it and sent back an “ok”, lowercase just to be a bit petty. Was it immature? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really.

Y/n spent the rest of her food budget for the week yesterday in a drunken haze with an uber from one side of Chicago to the other. The bachelorette party was a success and y/n was glad that her friend had a good time at the fancy restaurant that she picked out. Y/n was trying to be responsible and limit herself to a few drinks but it's hard to say no to the bride to be and before she knew it she had to leave her car at the restaurant because they took her keys and y/n and her friends crammed into an uber headed towards one of the bridesmaids houses.

Y/n woke up in a hurry, she grabbed a random shirt and joggers from her friends closet because all she had was that dress, which now had wine spilled on it. She quickly gathered her things and texted the group chat that she had to leave early so she could get to work. They would read it when they woke up. Not repeating yesterday’s mistakes she took the train to the restaurant, got her keys back and drove at illegal speeds to get to her place where she took a shower, changed back into her friends clothes because she was way behind on laundry. She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the apron and sprinting out the door to drive to work. She got there at 7:30am and she felt like death. The hangover was finally catching up to her, and she poured herself some water from the dispenser out front. She knew everyone was in the kitchen by now. She gave herself a few more seconds of quiet before she opened the door to the kitchen and gave a quick hello and rushed towards the lockers to put her stuff in and change into her non-slip shoes and apron.

Richie raised his eyebrows. This was too good, it was too easy, all he needed was for Carmy to get out of that depressing office of his to bear witness to this.

Richie was the first to ask, “New shirt? Never seen it before? ”

“Good Morning to you Richie, if you need to know I borrowed it from my friend.”

Carmen wanted to rush out as soon as he heard your voice but he refrained. He promised himself that he would give you a bit of space to respect you and your date/boyfriend. That didn’t stop him from listening through the door.

“Some friend you got there, real close.” Richie jokes

y/n didn’t know what he was talking about, “Friends tend to be close, Richie. You would know that if you had any.” Y/n barked back.

“How was it?” Syd asked as she sliced what looked like gallons of onions.

Y/n knew that last night was probably a good night but she was so drunk then and so hungover now that it all made her a bit nauseous to think about.

“Honestly, I don't remember much but I do know it was fun.”

“Hungover?” Tina asked.

“Very, my whole body feels like i was run over by a semi”

Marcus handed y/n a gatorade before going back to work with the cakes.

“You come back to us in new clothes, showered, late, hungover, and sore. You must have one hell of a night!” Richie said louder than necessary just so that Carmen would hear, he had a feeling that Carmy was eavesdropping.

“Im telling you guys i didn’t actually go on a-”

Carmen didn’t want to hear anything after Richie spoke because he felt like he was going to hear something he didn’t want to know. He picked up a clip board, slammed the door open and began walking around.

“Chef.” Carmen said mechanically

“Chef.” Y/n replied back fully expecting this, she left early, came late and was now distracting everyone.

Y/n quickly busied herself with peeling garlic and the rest day fell back to its usual rhythm. The prep finished right before the restaurant opened and they worked on filling to-go orders along with the regular lunch and dinner orders. One thing was noticeably different to y/n, Carmen hadn’t looked or approached her once. Normally he would walk by all the chefs and ask how they were doing, checking the quality, etc but the second he got to y/n who was at the far end of the kitchen he circled back. He made comments to everyone’s dish and he had yet to even get within a 3 feet radius on y/n.

Y/n could feel that something was off and to test it, after the dinner rush she finished making one of the test items that Sydney and Carmen had wanted to try out and after a small taste she knew she killed it.

Y/n walked up to Carmen with the dish and set it down. “Can you taste it and tell me what you think?” Carmen didn’t look up, he just grabbed a fork, took a bite and said a quick “It's fine, chef”.

Y/n then looked the dish over to sydney and asked her to try it.

“It added a bit of chocolate because I read somewhere that Japanese people put chocolate in their curry”

“Chocolate huh?” Sydney grabbed a small notebook and made a note.

“It’s okay?” y/n asked.

“It's fire, chef. Great work”

In y/n mind that confirmed that something was wrong with Carmen. Y/n waited till the restaurant closed and everyone left to bring it up. It was just Carmen and y/n alone in the restaurant and y/n could feel there was something in the air.

“You don't have to stay late, you should leave early” Carmon proposed while not looking at her.

That was strange because Carmen never asked her to leave early. She walked up to Carmen who was sweeping the floor and ripped off the bandaid.

“Thanks for the offer but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.” Carmen’s grip on the broom toughened till his knuckles turned white. It was a risky thing to say and after a beat of silence y/n took the coward’s way out by diverting and changing subjects.

“I'm sorry I was so late today Carmen, are we good?”

“We're good.”

Another awkward silence.

“ I don’t think we're good, you seem, I don't know, pissed?”

“I'm good, you're good, we’re good” Carmen said by turning his attention to a very interesting onion skin on the floor.

“You didn’t say anything about the dish I made, or that I was late. Someone told me that you seemed off yesterday.”

“Was this someone named Sydney?”

“Cannot confirm or deny, Carmy”

Carmy finished sweeping and took a few steps back.

“There it is again! You keep walking away from me and not looking me in the eye.”

Carmen didn’t know that he was being obvious, he thought he was subtle because Richie would have brought it up if he wasn’t. Carmen forced himself to look up at y/n and felt like the wind was knocked right off his lungs, he really hadn’t seen her at all today and he missed her.

“You can tell me what's happening so that I can help or at the very least listen to what's wrong.” y/n offered

Carmen bent down, and started to scrub in silence. He looked like he was piecing something together and y/n didn’t want to intrude so she continued to scrub assuming the conversation was over and that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in this uncomfortable silence. A few minutes pass and then a long sigh is heard from the other end of the kitchen. Carmen looked up.

“I’ve been a bit..” Carmen started. Y/n wanted him to finish his thought before she called him a dick.

“It's been a weird day.. I know it shouldn’t but I can't help but ask..”

A pregnant pause passed.

“How was..” y/n leaned in so she could hear.

“How was your “thing” yesterday?” He spit out.

Y/n looked a bit confused, “Umm it was fine, I mean we were at a restaurant so it wasn’t anything to crazy”

“Why were you so late today?”

The other shoe dropped, “ I knew you were pissed that I was late.” With an exhale she continued “We went to dinner and then got shit faced drunk and ubered over to a friends house. I had to go by that restaurant in the morning to pick up my keys and drive to my place so I could take a shower and not smell like a walking liquor store.”

“How was he?” Carmen choked out after a few more beats of silence.

“How was who?”

“Your umm…”

“Mmm” Carmen continued.

Y/n waited but it felt like he was testing her patience,

“Your date?” Carmen finally conceded while swinging his head down.

“What date? I went to a bachelorette party with a few of my girlfriends.”

Carmen’s head shot up, “ I thought-”

“The people in here are so nosy, I kept telling them that it wasn't a date and they wouldn’t bother to listen.”

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed and he felt like he could finally look at you without feeling guilty that he was looking at another guy’s girl.

“What’s been on your mind, Carm?” Y/n probed and Carmen's shoulders tensed up again.

Y/n could feel the atmosphere change and she wanted to capitalise on it while she still could, she could trick herself into thinking that Carmy was jealous of some imaginary guy that he thought she went on a date on, when he probably was just diverting attention to avoid talking about his own problems.

More silence.

More scrubbing.

Carmen looked up with a look of determination, y/n assumed that he had finally hyped himself to tell her what has been bugging him. Although the tension was killing her she did want this moment to last for a bit longer. In this moment she could convince herself that Carmen was troubled because of her and not because work was drowning him or that he is a mess because his brother left him this shithole and left.

She wanted him to have a problem with an easy solution. If he liked her, the easy solution was that she would kiss him and tell him how much she longed for him. He would then confess how much he yearned for her and she would give all of herself to him and he would finally have a win in his life, something that wasn’t tainted by his love/hate relationship with cooking, his family, his brother. Something that he would have all to himself, her love.

Just for a few moments she repeated, that's how long she had till the dream died. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. They would stay late and in the comfortable beats of silence Carmen would look up with such a look of determination and y/n heart would flutter hoping for those three special words but she would get something completely different but still equally important, information about a very private part of his life whether it be the AA meetings, or the guilt he felt for resenting his brother. And everytime y/n’s heart would break a bit and then mend itself knowing that even if she couldn't have him like she wanted to, she would still be important to him.

That type of relationship, friendship, used to be enough, but not anymore. With his plans to change The Bear he was getting further and further away from her. It used to feel like it was the two of them but y/n was starting to wonder if she was going to be left behind. If she would stay friends for a while until the longing grew too strong and y/n would leave The Bear. Even if Carmen misses her for a while, y/n knew he would bounce back like he always did and she would slowly be replaced by Sydney or whoever. The thought that in a few years he will have learned to cope with his grief and trauma and move on from the past, move on from y/n, and maybe settle down with someone else made y/n feel like throwing up.

This time y/n didn’t fall for Carmen's “look”, she had a neutral face and was ready to hear what Carmen's issues were. She wouldn’t assume that she was going to get a confession. This time she will help him with his problems and move on from this one-sided crush. Maybe she WILL go on a few dates to forget about him.

“Carmen, do you want to talk about it?We don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

Determination morphed into apprehension.

“I am feeling something, it is n-n-not…” He exhaled through his nose.

”It's selfish y/n. I'm being selfish. You have every right to do whatever you want but I..”

Y/n tried to look as comforting as possible trying her best to hide any confusion, if Carmen was any other person she would ask if he was sober right now because he was a total mess.

“I’ve never done this before, and I-” and he ran his palm through his hair.

Y/n refrained from thinking about how amazing he looked under the fluorescent lights with his tousled hair and apprehensive gaze. He could bring up his nightmares or sleepwalking, and she would feel so guilty for perving over his eyes.

“You looked very nice in that dress yesterday.” Y/n felt like a lump was forming in her throat. He was going to say something like this and think it's an off handed comment but she would go to the bathroom and cry because she knew nothing would come from it. Y/n thought it was a bit cruel.

“You looked so beautiful yesterday it was hard for me to look at you without making a fucking idiot out of myself. I wanted to run over to you and tell you that as soon as you left but Richie told me you're going on a date and it was…”

Carmen continued, “You are special and you deserve someone who isn’t…me. And you're free to do whatever and if this is completely …wrong…bad…i don't know, just stop me and we will never talk about this ever again…”

He searched y/n’s eyes looking for a sliver of doubt or disgust but he was met with glassy eyes and a look that longed for him to continue.

“When I thought you were going on that date I knew that I couldn’t not have you and that made me feel….” A sigh reverberated through the kitchen.

“ I like you…romantically.” Carmen uttered.

Y/n didn’t say or do anything for a moment, she spent a few moments wondering if she was hallucinating or dreaming. And in a moment of pure adrenaline, she scooted over to Carmen who was still on the floor before cupping his face in her hands and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss wasn't electrifying; it felt like a wave of warmth seeped into every corner of their beings. It felt like dipping your hand in warm water after shovelling the show, the type of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. Y/n fingers get lost in his wavy hair and his hands hesitate, not knowing where they should go before landing one on her hip and the other on the back of her neck to pull her closer. Y/n heart was beating so hard she wondered stupidly if he could hear it, Carmen was wondering something similar. They slowly pulled away for air before getting a good look at each other, both their lips were swollen and red and their eyes were dazed.

Y/n knew he was a flighty person, one wrong move and he would go running for the hills so she refrained from asking if they were dating now, this could have just been a one time thing and she didn’t want to ruin it. Thankfully Carmen held her hand and stroked it with her thumb before swinging his head down and looking up at her.

“I want to be with you y/n”

“I like you too, Carmen, for a very long time.” And their lips meet once again.

Y/n resisted the urge to say that she only bought the dress in the hopes that he would take it off of her, that was a story for another time.

“Let's get you home” Carmen mumbled into her lips, the vibrations and the friction making her lips burn in sensitivity.

Carmen helped y/n get up before they both packed up their stuff and headed out the door. Both hiding the smile of triumph from each other, not really knowing how much the other loves them yet, and only time would remedy that.

2K notes · View notes

fen-luciel · 6 months ago

Text

The mistakes of a Acolyte

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him

Chapter Warnings: mild violence

I was momentarily stunned to see them clash. Yord glanced at me for a second before shouting at me to run again, which I did immediately.

I was terrified of turning around, afraid that the movement might reveal something about my form under the poncho. I assumed Qimir wouldn’t attack me, but the fear of being caught was enough to make my desperate run seem convincing.

I reached the corner of the corridor and saw Yord being thrown forcefully from the other side. Qimir turned toward me before running in my direction.

It was all a ruse, but I was indeed hiding a secret from him. Moreover, it would be a lie to say that Qimir’s mask didn’t scare me, especially when he was coming after me so menacingly.

I descended the first flight of stairs. On this side, there were more levels I had to cross. When I reached the last step, a familiar chirping called me. Sam was waiting for me, hidden behind a pile of stones. As soon as I reached him, he darted across the ground, signaling me to follow him. I wasn’t sure what he planned to do, as he advanced along the hallway away from the other staircases.

Behind me, the sound of footsteps made me realize that Qimir was likely about to catch up, with Yord probably just meters away. If the plan was to work, it was better that Yord didn’t see me with the Sith. After all, I was a pregnant woman, it made no sense for me to attempt to confront him.

I followed Sam through a door. It was one of the small rooms we had converted into a food storage area. I shut the door behind me, staying in the dark. A small window let in some artificial light, but with the thick material of the door and the already dim external sources, it was just a faint strip of light that didn’t even reach the floor.

I peered through the window and saw Qimir searching for me. Without my Force signature on display and with that mask, I doubted he’d even spot me. He turned toward the stairs and, peering for a few seconds, realized I couldn’t have gone that way or he would have surely seen me.

He didn’t have much time to think, though. The moment Yord appeared from the corridor, he heard the sound of his lightsaber approaching. Qimir also turned, and the two began to fight. It was clear that Yord was less trained or skilled than him, you could see it in the reactions to his parries, his rigid strikes. He was definitely at a disadvantage, and it hurt to watch them… On one side was Qimir, that I loved despite everything and for whom I was risking my cover to help us escape. On the other side, even though I had known Yord for less than two days, those few hours together had shown me a kind and caring person, one of the Jedi with a still-pure mindset within the Order.

Just as they passed by the door, I crouched to make sure they didn’t see me through the window. Sam dimmed the blue light of his eye. The sounds of lightsabers and the impacts on the stone were enough to cover my voice when I spoke to Sam.

“Why did you bring me here?” He made a few annoyed noises at not receiving the greeting he expected but then replied.

“The map?” I asked surprised.

He pointed with the light of his eye to a corner with various tools, and I immediately recognized the holomap behind it. I quickly grabbed it and stuffed it into my bag. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Sam. Now go ahead. I need someone to check the doors at the end of the landing area” I peered through the window and saw Sol and Jecki running toward the fight.

Kriff.

The whole plan would be useless if he got himself killed.

I turned to Sam and ordered him to be silent. “I need you to turn off the lights. We have to make a run for the ground floor” He chirped affirmatively, and as soon as he opened the door, I began my run toward the stairs. Fortunately, there was only one extra floor to cover.

Reaching the other side of the first floor, I arrived at the end of the room where the first automatic door opened. Sam approached the control panel, but I stopped him.

“Wait. I need to make sure Qimir makes it. Go to the panel at the end of the corridor and wait for me there” Sam bumped his metal head against my leg, making me hiss. “I know you don’t like it. But… I’ll explain later, okay? I need someone to watch my back. If everything goes as planned, it will be the last time we see him” He responded with a contented chirp, and I sighed.

I watched him pick up speed down the corridor, then I bent over the panel and used one of the tools from my bag to open the cover and cut the electricity wire.

In an instant, all the lights went out. I hurried to turn on the small flashlight attached to my backpack strap and fixed the control panel.

I stood up just as I received a call on the communicator. It was Sol on the other end. “Sabrina, where are you? Qimir has disappeared before our eyes” His tone was urgent, I could hear the sound of running footsteps through the device. “I’ve reached the door. Many cables are broken. I think the droid cut the power. I need to hurry” I looked up and saw Qimir jumping down the stairs. I swallowed a lump in my throat. “If I don’t catch up with him quickly, he might lock me out of the docking area. Hurry up” I ended the communication.

Qimir stopped a few steps away from me, giving a small nod. He didn’t seem to notice the bulge of my belly, so maybe the poncho was working. Or at least for those who didn’t know where to look.

“Let’s hurry before they see us. They’ll assume I’m slower than you, so don’t stick too close to me” I didn’t wait for his reply before turning away and starting to run. My hands were trembling, it was the first time I had seen him in person after five months. Maybe, with a bit of luck, it would be the last.

His presence was now impossible to ignore—his heavy breathing due to the mask, the light steps, the sound of the lightsaber partially lighting the way, and, most of all, the dark aura of his Force surrounding my senses like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Of course, Jedi had their mark around them, but nothing compared to the reaction you felt in the presence of the dark side—a constant hand on your shoulder in a silent threat. But that was Qimir’s mark; like his physical presence, his Force presence was almost an overwhelming and suffocating figure, as if he had a hand around your neck as a warning. But over the years, I had gotten used to that smell, that warmth. I saw it more as a caress—a light touch on the side… like the first one shared years before, not painful, but sweet… almost caring.

He didn’t say anything until halfway through, when we could hear distant footsteps echoing, indicating that the others had entered the tunnel. Qimir stopped and, using the Force, bent one of the doors we had passed through and another one.

Sure, the doors were small. It wasn’t difficult to breach them once a hole was made with the lightsaber or with some force, but that was the point of the plan—slow them down.

Just as I was meant to slow down Qimir, now he was slowing down the Jedi. Even better, because if I had moved a few more meters away from him, I would have had time to close some doors behind me.

The communicator rang again, but I ignored it. Officially, I was fleeing from an angry Sith; they would understand if I didn’t bother to answer.

I glanced back at Qimir, closing another door before starting to use the Force to make the walls tremble. I stopped abruptly and shouted, “Are you crazy?! You risk making the whole gallery collapse on us!”

He turned around in silence, then let out a clear sigh and stopped. “We need to talk”

“This isn’t the time” I replied weakly before continuing to run. He was irritated, and the risk of him reacting with violence increased. My lightsaber was still at the bottom of my bag, and I cursed myself for not taking it earlier in the storage room. It would take too long to use it now, and moving the backpack risked exposing me to his eyes. Besides… would I really be able to fight him if things went bad?

Until now, I had taken for granted that I could face him and escape if necessary, but I hadn't really considered the idea of seriously aiming a weapon at him. Of hurting him.

I had been taking my feelings for granted, and now that I had him in front of me... the trembling hands, the heart in my throat... I could barely look at his mask.

To imagine his face beneath it, angry.

I took a deep breath before reaching into my pocket where I still kept the device to alert Sam. I could start to see the illuminated room in the distance with the ships ready for escape. I didn’t sense the Jedi, I imagined the jammed doors had been enough to buy us a few minutes.

I pressed the button in my pocket, and in less than a second, the doors in front of me began to close. I ran faster, passing the first two. I was starting to struggle, my feet burned, and my back cried out in agony. "Hey, wait!" Qimir didn’t waste time following me. I passed through the last door, but he was right behind me.

Great.

The plan to not get him on my back had now failed.

Just perfect.

"You could have warned me, kriff" he said behind me before removing his helmet. "We’ve closed all the corridor doors, do we have a few minutes to talk before we leave? We haven’t even decided where to go"

I struggled to respond, short of breath, my body protesting from the exertion, my head pounding.

"Can I know what’s going on with you?" I could hear him take a few steps closer, but with my arm outstretched, I sigh him to wait. Sam, who had been standing by the control console, approached and positioned himself between us, whistling angrily at Qimir.

I pulled myself up, taking a deep breath. My hands continued to tremble, it seemed absurd that I felt so bad. I was a trained woman after all. I didn’t know if my problem was physical or mental at this point.

Qimir was behaving naturally, after all, I was the one hiding a terrible secret, who had run away from him. Would he read the lie in my eyes? Would he notice the swelling of my stomach?

No. I just had to... move.

"We’ll talk when we’re away from here and the Jedi" Just then, the communicator rang again, but I turned it off. Sam, next to me, informed me that they were already more than halfway through the route, given the continuous damage signals from the doors.

I walked toward my ship, but Qimir’s hand tightened firmly around my arm, turning me toward him. "Can we talk just for a second? Can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

I winced in pain; he had grabbed me in the same spot where he’d left bruises the other night. I wriggled free, taking a few steps back, and finally looked him in the face. For the first time in months, face-to-face.

I couldn’t just close my eyes and make him disappear this time.

He looked at me confused, I felt like I was being scrutinized, or maybe I was just paranoid.

"I’m sick, okay? We need to go. Now." He took a few steps toward me. "Do we really need to keep up this act? If it’s about the archived data, we can get our hands on it again and..."

"No!" I snapped, interrupting him.

"You need to..." trust me? No, that phrase no longer made sense. "Listen to me. I’ve seen what they’re doing; it’s better this way. I’ll explain when we’re safe"

Meanwhile, Sam had opened the hatch of my ship, the automatic ramp lowering to the ground. I only had to take a few steps.

Hoping Qimir wouldn’t shoot me immediately from his ship in anger. I couldn’t afford to make him mad.

"Sure. But have you seen your face? You’re red. You’re breathing hard. What, do you want to have a heart attack while traveling through hyperspace?" He moved in my direction, but I took another step back. The instinct to shift the poncho to cover myself better crossed my mind, but the movement would only seem more suspicious, so I restrained myself.

"I’m fine. Sam is with me" He gave an ironic smile, and even in such a moment, I couldn’t help but think how handsome he was.

"Now I feel better. You’re delirious"

With two large strides, he reached me and grabbed my arms again. I flinched from the pain, I struggled. I could have used a Force push, but I risked exposing myself with the shockwave, and it seemed like an overreaction. Maybe I should just... just...

"Stop it, kriff. I’m worried..." but he suddenly stopped.

He looked at me intently, a frown on his face as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

Meanwhile, Sam was warning us of the limited time left.

"Let me go—" I began, trying to keep my tone calm, but he tightened his grip on my arms, and I moaned involuntarily, but he wouldn’t let go. It was as if he was deliberately pressing on the bruises.

"I dreamt of you the other night" He began in a low voice "You were crying and despairing in my arms. You were beautiful." I held my trembling hands on his chest trying to gain a few inches but his grip was firm and he wouldn't let go "I held you to me. Firmly. Like now. If I had been there for real... I would have left you bruised" if possible his tone became even lower, Thumbs pressing hard into my triceps.

"Qimir wait..." I hissed sensing panic forming in my stomach "Are you lying to me darling? You better say it now before I lose my patience. I've been so good to you. I don't deserve it, do I?"

Tears began to form in the corners of my eyes, I could have released myself, hit him, even shouted for help if it would have helped to get him off me at this point, but my body refused to react.

I was terrified.

I was a liar. I wasn’t able to fight him. I had lied to everyone but especially to myself.

"Please Qimir..." I whispered with trembling lips, he smiled at me, gentle, but the coldness I felt in my aching bones was a clear warning of how the dark side was stirring around us "This wasn't very nice of you. I thought you loved me. And you hide our son from me?" the grimace as he uttered the last word was one of pain, disappointment, he didn't look angry... but his eyes.

Those dark wells were cold. The hands that gripped me kept squeezing my flesh so hard I was afraid he would break my arms.

"I... can explain. P-please..." Some tears started to slide down my cheeks, my hands trembling uncontrollably as I tried to push him away.

I had to do something. Anything. But I remained paralyzed by fear.

At that moment, the distant sound of lightsabers distracted us, warning us that they were probably at a door or just beyond. It was enough for Sam, who had sneaked up and using one of his small arms, delivered an electric shock along Qimir’s leg, causing him to jerk back and release me suddenly.

"Little—" he lunged a hand toward the droid, but finally freed from his grasp, I gathered the courage to react.

Using the Force, I took advantage of his distraction to push him away from me, his body slamming against the door with such force that it created a crack.

I turned and ran with the last of my strength, tears falling freely, my chest heaving with sobs, Sam speeding ahead of me on the ramp, ready to close the door behind us.

Qimir roared my name in a snarl. I turned just in time to see him getting up. Behind him, the door swung open, and Yord, followed by Sol and Jecki, emerged into the illuminated room with their lightsabers drawn.

I stopped on the ramp, which had started to retract, locking eyes with Yord, and I swore I saw him nod approvingly, glad to see me ready to fly away. Just as the doors were closing, Qimir began to use the Force to push them away from him.

Sam was whistling next to me, urging me to hurry. I took a trembling breath and reached the cockpit, tossing my backpack into a corner and sitting in the pilot's seat. My hands were still shaking, but I managed to activate everything necessary to start the engines. Sam was helping me from the lower panel. I grasped the controls, and with one smooth motion, I flew the ship out of the cavern.

I flew over the temple in a broad arc as I left the planet's atmosphere. As I distanced myself, I noticed another small signal on the scanner, indicating that Qimir had probably managed to leave shortly after me, or maybe it was the Jedi, but at that point, I didn’t care.

I set random coordinates as far as possible and jumped to hyperspace.

The familiar blue light illuminated the cockpit as I finally allowed myself to slump into the seat.

The silence enveloping me was deafening after everything that had happened. There was a constant ringing in my ears, a headache that flooded my senses from my temples to my neck in a steady pounding, my hands almost numb from gripping the controls, and my back throbbing from the sudden physical effort.

Sam approached my leg and with a faint chirp, asked if I was okay.

I sniffed, once, twice, three times before a sob escaped my lips.

And another.

And another one.

My vision blurred with tears as I tried to wipe my cheeks with my sleeve, but to no avail.

I broke into hysterical crying, my arms wrapping around myself, the pain I felt a constant reminder of the physical and emotional torment I had just endured, my short breath giving no peace to my lungs.

I stayed there.

Crying for hours.

#the acolyte #qimir #star wars #qimir x reader #qimir x oc #manny jacinto #unplanned pregnancy #yord fandar #jecki lon #the stranger x reader

115 notes · View notes

marmaladeinlemonade · 5 months ago

Text

Event tickets in sky were never going to work anyway.

It's way too good to be true; a currency that cannot be transferred across events or into candles/hearts for the sole purpose of making event cosmetics easier to obtain, that is collected by participating in the event itself? Thats already fishy enough by tgc's standards.

Thatgamecompany has a habit of making short term solutions for long term problems because of the sheer amount of content they make yearly, leaving less room to optimize regular gameplay. ET has probably been the most apparent example of this. (MAAAAJOR YAP SESSION AHEAD!)

When event tickets were first released, I was ecstatic. I was already struggling to keep up with Days of Bloom and Mischief since I have taken many breaks from sky, but I couldn't begin to fathom how the prices may feel to a new player. I also hated picking and choosing between what items to buy simply because i didn't dedicate the past two weeks so candlerunning alone. Hopefully this new addition of ET would take off that load and i can enjoy the following events to it's fullest, and well, I did.

For the first year that is. These cosmetics that costed ET were damn near free for me. Yet, in the back of my head i always wondered what would happen the following year once these ET cosmetics came back, alongside the new ones that were to be released. Would they cost just as much ET as last year's items? Then collecting ET would only get more stressful and inflate its value. Would the past items go away? That is unfair to new players and pushes FOMO to get everything every year.

Maybe the total price could stay the same but older items depreciate each year as newer ones release, making the oldest ones the cheapest.

And to my great surprise as i look at beta logs for this year's days of summer, not a single item from the year before is under 90 candles! How could this possibly be fair to new players who are trying to enjoy sky for what it is and get items? I've seen some people argue that the player has the choice to not get all cosmetics, which is true, but I'd like to show you what thought process is implied with this system. Think:

"We know you don't fully know your way around sky's economy, or don't have the time to grind everyday, but for this year only these new items are free just by participating in the event! And if you don't, for any reason, the price of the items will be worth 3-6 hours of candlerunning on top of MORE cosmetics! But it's all up to you!"

This isn't to say us as a playerbase have zero autonomy, but i hope you can see how FOMO is enforced when you add a currency with zero value outside of an annual 2 week event that gives players a "now or never" mindset. This is great in the moment, it pushes people to participate! Yet, this ruthlessly punishes players who aren't available for any reason, even those who weren't aware of sky before joining.

Sky is still a new game. Event tickets were only introduced a year ago, but if tgc keeps going down this economic pattern then imagine the amount of cosmetics locked away from new players, or players who took breaks, because of this exponential increase in pricing!

This is a more subjective opinion- but let me be honest; these cosmetics are not worth their candle/heart prices.

I was lucky enough to get all the days of style and days of summer items from last year for ET and i barely wore them, i can only imagine ONE item from each event being rewearable. I didn't mind though because i knew the towel capes and silly glasses were nice starter items for moths, but it's not even moth friendly anymore?! In the past only items that were in high demand were priced outrageously like rhythm and lightseeker TS, and now I'm spending extra for a purple top hat that doesn't even match any of the other purples in this game☠️☠️ you're getting less bang for your buck with a 110 candle towel cape bro

And lastly, there are other issues I've seen in sky that i would say are parallel to this whole event ticket situation. The time gaps between seasons have grown significantly smaller, and each seasonal update has been saturated with glitches and disappointment. Season of the Nine-Colored Deer is another very apparent example of this for me. The castle and crescent lake is done beautifully and the quests are decent, but no one is returning to the area. The rest of the town is empty and awkward, and half the map is in a canyon where you spawn so it's already a good 2-3 minutes getting out of that area alone. The place is just rushed. Its inconvenient.

Ill be posting a poll right after this post, but me personally i would not mind having 3 seasons a year if it meant higher quality content and more breaks from events. More spirits that are well thought out, detailed seasonal quests that arent cleanups or scavenger hunts, less quantity but higher quality cosmetics and emotes, and elder appearances! It's clear that tgc has a more complex world design outside of Sky: cotl when we look at The Two Embers, but that the energy it takes to make it in game is placed elsewhere.

Thatgamecompany is pushing out more content than they ever have before and I think their work is starting to crumble under the weight.

If you made it here THANK YOU!!! you're a lifesaver, theres so much that i want to say and i really hope a lot of skids see this post so that we can get a cohesive discussion going❤️

#thatgamecompany #sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky lore #skyfest #skyblr #days of color #days of summer #season of duets #season of rhythm #sky cotl events #sky cotl alef #troupe juggler #fire prophet #ascended candles

83 notes · View notes

nametakensff · 4 months ago

Note

spring prompt request: hitching and inopportune for k/im ideally in your fet!h/arry x k/im setting

Hellooo, I am sooo sorry this prompt has taken months in the making but I am finally finished!! Thank you for your patience 💕 Please enjoy 8.4k of K/im having a hard time

K/im is already feeling under the weather when an allergic reaction to dust at the worst of times makes his day even more exhausting. At least H/arry is there to help 😇

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, (oncoming) cold sneezes, dust allergy sneezes, sneezing whilst hiding, stifles, rapid sneezes, handkerchiefs, tissues, some mild mess, spray, hitching breaths, K/im generally has a very persistent tickle, sneezing on someone, catching someone else's sneezes for them, brief cold denial, blowing nose into hands (in the shower), handjobs, frotting, masturbation, elements of domination/submission, embarrassment, some voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, fetishy dirty talk, praise kink, graphic descriptions of semen, mentions of phone sex, caretaking, not orgasm denial exactly but neither have nutted in a while

CW: mentions of drug abuse, mentions of homicide, standard police stuff, general mentions of lightheadedness and not feeling well

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Kim awoke with a distinct feeling the day ahead was probably going to suck. He’d been feeling out of sorts this week, in the way that one does when one is probably coming down with a cold. He sighed, covering his eyes with the back of one hand as he lay on his back. After a moment he peered at his alarm clock, promptly remembered he couldn’t see jack shit, then reached for his glasses.

The clock read exactly 04:45 AM. He’d only gotten around five hours of sleep, still had over an hour before his alarm was meant to go off. He could try and go back to sleep, but he also knew from experience that he probably wouldn’t get very far. Once he was awake, that was it. He sighed again.

Just after 5 AM, Kim crawled out of bed and set to getting ready for the day. He figured he could use the extra time to get through outstanding paperwork (although there was admittedly very little ever outstanding for him) and decided to eat breakfast at the diner nearby the 41st precinct. The artificial, glaring lighting paired with a black coffee would hopefully make him feel a little less like the walking dead.

Sitting at the diner just after 6 AM, his first sneeze (of which Kim hoped was not many) had him scrambling for his handkerchief one-handed, the other clutching his newspaper. He decided, gently wiping at his nose in the aftermath, that to pay it any mind would be to invite more, so he simply returned to scrutinising the daily crossword, occasionally taking sips of coffee and meagre bites of a breakfast muffin. The façade of normalcy didn’t last especially long; he wasn’t hungry, the coffee hurt his throat, and the crossword seemed to be taking up entirely too much of his mental energy.

It was as if the admittance that things were amiss operated as a kind of signal to his treacherous nose. In the wake of that earlier sneeze, the tickle that had prompted it – instead of being purged by the sneeze – had merely lingered, hidden away in the depths of his sinuses. It reared its head once again, giving him a little more time than before to prepare, but still peaking rapidly enough that he had hardly gotten his handkerchief to his face before his chest swelled with a definitive inhalation.

“Hhtt-! Hh’gxt! N’Gkt!! Hh’NGxt’chu!!”

Instead of a sense of relief, the sneezes merely left him bleary-eyed and worse for wear. He snuffled discretely into the cloth, grateful that the other patrons hadn’t registered his outbursts (or more likely, that they just didn’t care). He allowed himself to rub indulgently at his nose, wriggling it from side to side in the hopes he could externally quell the internal irritation. It worked a little, but he was still sniffling against one crooked finger as he left the diner and climbed back into his MC, the leather of his glove coming away damp.

Luckily, nobody seemed to notice the desperate triple of sneezes he stifled between the pinching grip of his thumb and pointer finger, striking him right as he entered the station. They were nasty sneezes, total bullies that fought as hard as possible to burst past the barrier of his resistance. Kim winced more at the audibly liquid sound of them than the way they almost unbalanced him, walking at his brisk pace. He sniffled, trying not to cringe when the crackling resonance of it prompted a cop stood nearby to peer over at him in thinly-veiled disgust.

Once he was at his desk (and more importantly – sat down in his chair), he felt he could relax for a moment. The Major Crimes Unit was temporarily bereft of Major Crimes, so their officers were being lent out, as it were, to slightly more menial affairs. Jean had been complaining openly about this. The day before, as he stood in the kitchen whilst Kim and Harry picked at their lunches, he had grumbled that they were slowly becoming the Minor Crimes Unit, and the flat affect of his voice had made Kim laugh hard enough to almost choke on the crust of his sandwich.

Today, Kim was grateful they were evidently still the Minor Crimes Unit. It meant that half the officers were away on patrol, and that the rest were either plowing away through paperwork – or chatting amongst themselves in various nooks and crannies. It suited Kim just fine – this way he didn’t have to worry about stifling the persistent sneezes into total silence, and the lack of a fixed audience meant he could occasionally indulge in openly tilting his head back, nostrils flaring and face creasing, as any particularly irritable sneezes started to build.

So content had he become in the mechanical routine of write, pause, sneeze, resume writing that he was almost disappointed when Harry’s warm palm gripped him by the shoulder and shook him out of his trance. His partner grinned at him, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder that they were getting the hell out of dodge. Kim offered a small smile back, tried to ignore the slight vertigo as he stood up and gathered his things.

Harry filled him in on the way to the garage – a new witness for a case that had gone cold years ago had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, promising vital information regarding the homicide of a 35-year-old mother of two. Harry’s enthusiasm could perhaps be described as in poor taste to some, but Kim understood. The thrill of all the pieces coming together, a case finally hurtling towards a successful closure was as potent a source of adrenaline for him as high-speed pursuits.

Kim pulled the MC out of the garage, more on autopilot than anything else, as Harry continued to natter. Kim found he was struggling to listen and drive at the same time – not good. Not usual, for him. He focused as much of his split attention as he could, thanking his lucky stars when Harry remained so wrapped up in his own hyper-focused ramblings that he didn’t notice as Kim’s head bobbed forward with three expertly stifled, silent sneezes.

~~~~~

The witness was a frazzled former meth user. Conversation with her seemed to bounce back and forth, and when Kim asked her what year it was, she was a decade off. Harry’s enthusiasm appeared to visibly wane as time went on – even his abilities as a human can-opener could only do so much in the face of synapses fried by years of abuse.

It seemed like a lost cause until Harry mentioned the name of a previous suspect – released from custody almost immediately due to lack of solid evidence of his involvement. Raking her hands through her hair, the witness seemed lucid and engaged all at once. Kim quickly flipped open his notebook and began to jot down the conversation in shorthand, even knowing Harry would memorise it entirely.

His nose tickled ever so slightly, and he sniffled, nostrils arching delicately. It was a mistake; he immediately needed to sneeze. The tickle was fast to come on but not especially strong – he did not find himself bending in half with the body-shaking force of it. Instead, his head gently bobbed forward which each sneeze, an unremarkable triple. It was a quick, efficient affair; he barely even shuddered with them. He might have been able to avoid detection entirely, had he not indulged in an audibly liquid sniffle immediately afterwards.

The witness glanced at him, a microscopic shift in body language, before her eyes were fixed back in the general vicinity of Harry’s shoulder. It was all that was needed for Harry to glance over at Kim - right at the moment that sniffle ignited the tickle into an unexpected fourth sneeze.

Kim’s eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled sharply. Harry was already watching him, concentration on the witness effectively broken. He needn’t have attempted to stifle this sneeze into total silence for his sake, but he felt he didn’t want to spook the witness out of her relative lucidity. His head bobbed forward again as he convulsed under the pressure of the release – stronger than the preceding three; strong enough that the sneeze was audible despite his best efforts. An awkward, entirely nasal stifle burst out of him, and with it a tiny stream of mess from his left nostril.

A gloved hand shot up to his face at once, pinching away the mess before dutifully returning pen to paper. Harry was rigid beside him; Kim bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from breaking out in a mischievous smile. The way he could render Harry dumbstruck with a single sneeze was one of his newfound delights in life. He felt like shit, and really didn’t want to be catching this cold, but now that Harry had noticed his struggles, he didn’t much feel like suppressing his sneezes any longer.

They thanked the witness, who had supplied them with a further lead in the form of a supposed hideout for the gang member she suspected committed the murder. It was probably a dead end this long after the crime, and both of them knew it, but it didn’t stop Harry from perking up in hope, just a little bit.

He perked up even more as Kim stopped walking, and Harry, several paces ahead, turned just in time to watch him sneeze an uncovered, unhindered triple of sneezes.

“Hh-Hh-h-!! Hupt’ISSHH’uu!! ‘TSScHh’iew!! Hh! Hah’AHDT’Tsziew!! Ahh, Mon dieu.”

“God, Kim. Bless you.”

Kim brought his handkerchief up to his face to snuffle into, smiling behind the fabric. It had felt fantastic to sneeze openly and as loudly as he wanted, and it felt just as fantastic to hear the poorly restrained arousal in his partner’s voice.

“Thank you. That felt good.”

Harry swore under his breath and continued to make his way to the MC, Kim following right behind him and doing his best not to beam in satisfaction. Back in the car, Harry turned to face Kim, eyes roving over his face in question. Kim simply sat there and gazed back at him, allowing the silent scrutinization.

“You okay, honey? Got a tickle?” Harry asked, doing an impressive job of sounding like he wasn’t sporting an extremely obvious erection.

“Hm.” Kim sniffled, starting the engine and glancing towards the road. “Yes. Just a tickle. A very persistent one.”

He pulled the car out onto the road, making his way towards the district of interest. Harry was squirming in his peripheral vision.

“That’s too bad. Hope you get some relief soon.” He offered after a moment of silence.

Kim nodded, stifling another smile. It seemed they were both refusing to take the topic any further. It was fine with him if Harry wanted to focus on work – he encouraged it wholeheartedly, and he didn’t particularly feel like surrendering to the other man how under the weather he felt just yet.

Fine. Let them both be stubborn, independent of each other. Kim drove a little less quickly than usual, on account of the occasional sneeze, and Harry did his very best to look entirely interested in everything that wasn’t his boyfriend sniffling several feet away from him.

~~~~~~

The hideout looked like any other drug den one might expect to encounter in Faubourg. Kim immediately felt uneasy walking up the short path to the front door, but it was a familiar unease he’d grown used to after decades on the job. Harry was alert and focused beside him. They turned to one another, reaching tentatively for their holstered guns – a habitual motion, just to confirm everything was in order in case things went south.

They needn’t have worried; nobody answered the door, which was unlocked, and a quick skim of the property confirmed it to be entirely empty. Harry nodded at him and Kim put his pistol back in its holster. They both wandered somewhat lazily around the shoddy bungalow in companionable silence, torches out due to the sheets pinned over every single window.

“Well. Fuck.” Kim heard Harry mutter, coming to the same conclusion as he that the only kind of organised crime this property had been related to in recent years was the procurement and consumption of drugs. The numerous needles littering the carpet were as good a sign of that as any.

“We got to her too late. This place is a wash. Shit.” Harry kicked an empty takeout box across the room, spreading fragments of ancient chow mein asunder. Kim sighed.

“It’s an old case, detective. We knew this was a likely outcome.”

Harry crossed his arms and let his head fall forward, sighing dramatically. Kim reached out and squeezed his bicep conciliatorily.

“There may be another lead yet. We’re not in any rush, we may as well investigate the property thoroughly.”

Harry looked up and smiled at him. Even in the dim light of the room, Kim could make out a grateful twinkle in his eyes. The almost childlike serenity of it had him smiling back in an decidedly uncool way, rife with affection and tenderness. The corner of his eyes were even crinkling, for fuck’s sake. But then again, this was Harry. He’d been a sucker for him from day 1.

Kim slapped him harder on the bicep than was necessary as he pulled away, then got to work.

~~~~~

He should have considered this. He didn’t understand why he never seemed to remember how irritatingly allergic to dust he was until he had already started to have a reaction. Breath catching and head tipping back for what was probably the tenth time since they’d entered this dust trap of a crack house, Kim briefly fanned at his face with a gloved hand before he was sneezing again, shuddering with the force of it.

“HhHH’DZZSTShhh!! Hih-!! Hup’TSCHhhht!! ‘TSCHhhuu!! Hh-Hhh!! HAHDt’Tssieww!!”

The frantic post-sneeze sniffle he indulged in just seemed to stoke the tickle right back into fruition – another thing he ought to have remembered not to do in the middle of an allergy attack, and yet. He gasped, chest jumping uncontrollably with every hitching breath, and sneezed even harder.

“HUPTt’TZzSHHhh!! AhHD’TZSCHhuu!! ‘DTZSCHhttt!!”

Even through post-sneeze bleary, blinking eyes, he could make out a cloud of aerosol spray lingering in the light of his torch for several seconds before dissipating into the air. If he was with anyone but Harry, he would be mortified.

“Fuck. God bless you. Again.” Harry offered from the other room. He was audibly aroused, and Kim would be lying if it wasn’t getting to him even whilst he felt absolutely miserable.

He didn’t have long to dwell on the matter before the tickle, utterly maddening in its feathery intensity, had him gasping and sneezing anew, nearly stumbling forward under the force of it.

“HH-!! Hhh’AGKk’TSschtt!! Hupt’TSCHHhh!! Hup’TSZSHhieww!! HAGK’TSSHhhuu!!”

Harry blessed him again, but Kim could hardly focus through the supreme irritation. He reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose hard, trying not to blush when his congested sinuses produced a rather undignified honking noise. Relax. Harry likes this. The thought provided him with a little relief, though extremely short-lived as his sinuses started to fill immediately, triggering yet another tickle. He tucked the torch under his armpit and reached to steady himself on a nearby wall, gasping hard into the protective cover of his handkerchief.

“Hih! Hh-HHdt-!! HDTT’TZzshhh-‘TSSH’uu!! HdDDZT’Tzshieww! HAH-! AEESCHH’uu!! Ohh…”

This was no good. One might even say he was fucked. He was getting hardly any reprieve between sneezes now, and each fit left him increasingly weaker and trembling in the aftermath. He felt Harry’s broad palm reaching between his shoulder blades, stroking his back as his breath scissored in and out of him. He hadn’t even heard him approaching the musty bedroom he’d been stationed in, so consumed had he been with purging the tickle. His eyes leaked twin streams of irritated tears down his flushed cheeks and saturated the fabric of his handkerchief. Harry’s hand felt like a grounding anchor amidst it all.

“Kim. Babe. We’ve officially seen enough, okay? I’m ending this investigation. We need to get you some fresh air.”

Kim nodded, unable to speak as another vicious triple tore its way out of him. Harry cooed at him, wrapping an arm around his waist and standing him upright. Kim allowed him to press a soft kiss to the side of his face, unprofessionalism be damned given the circumstances. He felt horrible; his body arched towards Harry, seeking the comfort like a lifeline.

They’d hardly taken a couple of steps forward when the sound of approaching footsteps and gruff male voices from outside had them freezing mid-movement. Maybe the joint wasn’t abandoned after all. The almost marching and level sounds of the steps – the domineering, unwavering cadence of the men…it didn’t sound like a pair of drug addicts. They sounded like they meant business. Fuck.

Upon the sound of the men reaching the doorstep, Harry yanked Kim back into the bedroom and behind the door, slightly ajar. The front door opened, and they held their breath as the men strode inside. Their current hiding place was a terrible vantage point – neither Harry nor Kim could watch them, only listen as they rummaged around, opening draws and shifting furniture. They weren’t saying much of anything – there was no urgency in their banter, nothing frantic about the sounds of their movements. Kim clutched his handkerchief to his nose, pinching hard, and with his free hand clutched at the gun in his holster. Beside him, Harry’s hand rested on his own weapon.

Kim’s mind raced through the possibilities. Somebody must have been watching their approach and informed these men. Their MC was parked a couple of streets away to avoid becoming a spectacle, but perhaps it had been discovered, or they’d been seen entering the property and recognised by the RCM insignias on their jackets. Were the strangers actively looking for them? No. They would have moved with frenzied purpose, were that the case.

Maybe they were drug addicts after all. Maybe they were opportunistic scavengers. Maybe he and Harry ought to emerge from the bedroom, guns before them, and make their presence known? They’d hidden instinctually, perhaps preemptively. He frowned, rigid beside an equally rigid Harry as he thought and thought.

The most pressing matter, beyond all of these possibilities and their outcomes, was remaining concealed. Kim was excellent at this; he’d been described as catlike, both to his face and behind his back, and took pride in being light-footed and discrete. Keeping quiet was not a problem.

Correction. Keeping quiet was not a problem except for when he was in the midst of a terrible fucking allergy attack.

Like clockwork, the tickle peaked once more, and Kim shuddered in place with a harsh, punishing triple, stifled between pinching fingers into his handkerchief. Miraculously, they remained silent; the shivering exhale he couldn’t help but let out made more noise. He sensed Harry glancing at him, but he couldn’t so much as turn before his breath was snagging and another three sneezes forced their way out of him, wracking his slender frame.

This was no good. In fact, this was terrible. He barely had a moment’s breath where he wasn’t inhaling and sneezing, the allergy attack now in full swing. Try as he might to keep the sneezes absolutely silent, they were getting increasingly more difficult to suppress.

“Hh’GKTt!! NGX’tt!! ND’Tt!! ‘Ngxt!! H’NGxtsh!!”

He felt Harry squeezing his shoulder – a gesture either meaning ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Shut the fuck up’ – likely a mixture of both. Kim merely shook his head before sneezing again. Gun forgotten (probably for the better – he would never live down a gunshot triggered by an unruly sneeze), Kim struggled to hold his handkerchief to his face, now drenched and clinging to the fabric of his glove. He leant his back against the wall behind him, free hand bracing himself as his knees weakened with the effort.

“’Hddtsh!! NGX’tshh!! H’GXT’shh!! NGt-GXT’tsh!!...Hg’GXTZshht’u!!”

Fuck. That last one had not only made his temples throb in pain as it forced its way past his trembling fingers, it had been messy. Worst of all, it had been louder, an explosive burst of sound. Harry’s grip on his shoulder flexed, just once. Through the roaring of blood in his ears, Kim couldn’t hear any significant change in conversation in the other room. Good. He managed to stifle the next few into silence once more, but it didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment. It was only a matter of time before he would simply have to let loose entirely.

Suddenly, the voices drew closer – so close, in fact, that Kim was certain the strangers would stride into the room and find them there. What a sight that would be – a Disco cop and his partner, currently almost doubled over sneezing his proverbial brains out. It would be a funny thought if it wasn’t such a viable outcome, and also perhaps if Kim didn’t feel as though he was about to pass out. This tickle was a bully; it didn’t matter how much he sneezed, it simply demanded more.

Miraculously, Kim at last heard the footsteps of the men receding, followed by the front door closing. He hadn’t been able to follow the conversation, but it seemed that whatever they’d been looking for, they’d found.

“’MP’tschh!! Hh! Hg’GXTtt!! NGXtt!! H-Hh-!! Hh’GKShhht!!”

God, just let this end. His eyes were streaming down his face in a constant onslaught of allergic tears, and his nose felt as though the ticklish fibres of the fluffiest feather possible were touching every part of his nostrils all at once. The itching sensation seemed to fill his entire head, even. It felt as though he would never stop sneezing.

He had been vaguely aware of Harry leaving the room, but it wasn’t as though he could inquire after, or indeed follow him in his current state. When he returned several minutes later – in which Kim was still sneezing, though admittedly much less quietly – he knelt in front of him. Kim peered through bloodshot, miserable eyes at his face. Before Harry, he hadn’t realised it was possible for human beings to wear expressions so perfectly torn between arousal and intense concern, but there it was, staring right back at him.

“Okay, they’re gone. I watched them leave, they’re not coming back. Probably just grabbed some product and fucked off.”

Kim nodded, sneezed, sneezed again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry reached out, pulling Kim just enough that he gave in, let himself slide down the wall into a sitting position. He had not the least bit of energy to resist as Harry pulled his handkerchief clad hand away from his face, didn’t protest as Harry quickly swiped away with his thumb at the prominent mess under his nose and over his lips. He felt a fresh handkerchief – Harry’s – being held over his face, securely, by his partner’s broad, warm hand.

“It’s okay.” Harry murmured again, hand expertly following Kim as his head tipped back with a gasping inhale. “Let it all out.”

Kim didn’t have much of a choice either way. Gripping Harry’s wrist for purchase, he trembled under the force of the sneeze, fully unhindered as he practically roared into the handkerchief.

“hhHUPTT’TISSHHHIEEWwww!!!”

The bliss, the relief from finally sneezing without restraint, was monumental. Kim’s entire body shivered pleasantly, goosebumps breaking out on the surface of his arms. He moaned, losing himself for just a moment – and then geared up to do it all over again.

~~~~~~

They drove to Harry’s apartment, it being the closest. Harry had taken the wheel, to their mutual displeasure, but it would have to do, given that Kim was still sneezing. He was winding down, gradually, the pauses between hitching and sneezing and sighing growing much longer – but sneezing nonetheless. In a way, Kim considered it a boon that he had been sneezing since that morning already. As the allergic reaction began to fade, the odd couple of sneezes every now and then felt almost like returning to a familiar baseline. God, he was tired. He felt weak and unwell, truly exhausted from the sheer number of sneezes his body had been subjected to, and the magnitude of those he had finally let loose. That Harry hadn’t cum in his pants as Kim had sneezed against his palm was truly impressive.

Towards the end of the journey, Kim wondered if it wouldn’t have been just as well that he had driven. Harry was so riled up and distracted it was a blessing he hadn’t gored any pedestrians with his drifting and last-minute breaking. He would jump when Kim sneezed, rigid and alert between each release as he expectantly waited for another. It was funny, and it was flattering, but Kim had reached out more than once to steady the wheel as his partner’s trembling palms lost their slippery grip. Harry’s cock stood to attention the entire way home; it persisted even as they climbed the stairs to his apartment, Harry insisting Kim walk in front of him to shield the tenting of his pants from prying eyes. He moaned as Kim’s sneezes echoed in the stairwell.

“You shower first, baby.” He’d offered, pupils blown and shifting from foot to foot. “You need to get that dust off of you.”

Kim didn’t disagree – didn’t even have it in him to ask Harry to join him. He tossed his clothes into Harry’s laundry basket, grimacing as the dust the motions stirred up promised to bloom into another tickle. It did, several minutes later; he didn’t hold back as the sneezes ramped up again, aided by the steam opening his sinuses.

“AESCHhhh!! HdtT’TSCHHHhtt!! ‘DZSCHhh’uu!! Fuck…Hh! hHUPT’TSshhh!! ‘TZSChh’uu!! AhDT’TSsHhiewww!! Ah…”

They were harsh, full body releases. Each sneeze brought with it a stream of mess, hanging over his lower face before the next sneeze would displace it, soaring onto the floor of the shower. Within moments, his runny nose would be dripping, prompting another sneeze in what he was sure would have been an endless cycle had he not indulgently blown his nose into his hands, stemming the flow and dulling the itch.

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat against the tickle. At least the fluttering, allergic sensation that had made his entire face feel itchy and alive with irritation had now dissipated. Though brought on by dust, these sneezes, like this morning, felt distinctively…unwell. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall, allowing the shower water to sluice down his back for a time.

~~~~~

When Kim emerged from his shower, one towel round his waist whilst he tousled at his damp hair with another, Harry all but bolted past him and into the bathroom, hesitating for a split second to utter a small “love you” and press a kiss to Kim’s bare shoulder. Kim barely had a chance to blink before the door was closed just shy of slamming behind him.

He chuckled to himself before locating a change of his clothes in Harry’s dresser – folded neatly and just as he had left them, in sharp contrast to Harry’s own crumpled and pell-mell shirts and slacks. He took them and placed them on top of the dresser, noticing that Harry had placed there a fresh box of tissues, a glass of water and a small blister pack of antihistamines, some of the pills already missing. Harry must have taken some – or more likely, Kim suddenly realised, Jean. It would be just like Harry to keep some around in the rare instances Jean went without. Kim smirked, taking a pill himself and chasing it with the entire glass of water.

Kim began to towel himself dry, but the day’s exhaustion, more than doubled by that ridiculous allergic reaction, proved too much. He lowered himself, towel wrapped round his waist, into the armchair Harry had started using as a desk chair. (They’d had sex on this chair a good few times – Kim had absentmindedly wondered where it had vanished from the living room as they entered the flat.) His upper body was dry enough that leaning back into the fabric didn’t feel entirely awful. He sighed, resting his eyes and allowing himself this small break. He would get dressed when Harry was finished; they would be leaving together anyway. There was no rush – he felt he could claim this small pocket of time as entirely his own.

He'd been drifting between the periphery of consciousness and oblivion when an audible groaning sound caught his attention and pulled him out of his doze. He was a light sleeper, both a blessing in this line of work and a curse for literally every other reason. He listened, eyes still closed, focusing on any other noises over the gentle hissing of shower water. The distinctive moan he had heard didn’t come again – only the sounds of plastic toiletry bottles being rifled through.

He didn’t want to be nosy; he tried his best to allow others the privacy he so desperately clung to, reserving any meddling for his detective work. One could argue that the unmistakable sound of his boyfriend orgasming in the shower whilst he was sat in the next room was none of his business – if Harry wanted to masturbate in private, who was Kim to judge? One could also say, however, that when his boyfriend is orgasming in, no doubt, direct response to his allergies, he is entitled to speculate and enjoy whatever snatches of sound it may induce. Tired though he was, his cock stirred and started to harden in response. He palmed it lazily under the towel, humming as sordid images danced through his mind - of Harry moaning, fucking his own fist, legs trembling as the shower water washed away the evidence of his orgasm as quickly as it had materialised.

He stopped teasing himself when he heard the water shut off. A couple of minutes later, Harry emerged in his own towel, doing a quick double-take at Kim lounging in the chair and watching him.

“Not gonna get dressed?” He asked, sounding incriminatingly relaxed and amused as he began to go through the motions of drying himself. Kim peered at the nape of his neck, the way the damp tendrils of his unruly mane curled there.

“Oh, I will. I’m tired, though. I didn’t feel like rushing.”

Harry hummed in response, the sound morphing into a continuous melody, toweling wildly at his hair. Kim watched him, secretly wishing he could afford the same luxury of such rough treatment. He would rather die than admit out loud the fact that he patted his own hair dry with gentle tentativeness, hoping to avoid thinning out his receding hairline any more than nature had already cursed it to.

Kim smiled fondly at his back.

“You’re in good spirits.” He stated, resting his hand on his prick.

“It was a good shower.” Harry merely said by way of response, dropping the towel and walking naked towards his closet for a change of clothes.

“It sounded like it.” Kim said. Harry didn’t turn around, didn’t see him squeezing himself through the towel, though he did tense a little before exhaling a little laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. Had to…scratch an itch.”

“You’re insatiable,” Kim laughed, even as he reached under the towel and took himself back in hand. Harry rifled through his clothes, humming again.

“That’s twice in my career, now,” Kim started, “That I’ve had to hide in a dust trap and stifle my sneezes into near silence to avoid detection.”

Harry paused his rifling, face still hidden by the open wardrobe door. Kim smiled, lazily teasing his own urethra with a circling fingertip. He went on.

“The tickle is always so maddening, but when I can finally let myself sneeze unrestrained it’s such a rush. Though I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir. Still – that was an enjoyable fit.”

Kim had to fight back a giggle at the sight of Harry as he turned round with a tortured expression, cock already half-hard and standing out like an exclamation between his legs. His eyes widened at the sight of Kim stroking himself.

“See?” Kim drawled, leaning his head on one propped up hand against the arm of the chair and pulling at his cock with languid strokes. He nodded towards Harry’s erection. “Insatiable.”

Harry blinked, looking for all the world like he was short-circuiting, before uttering a comically resolute “Fuck.” Kim watched as he walked the short distance to his bedside table, reaching inside to extract a small bottle, and lay back on the bed. He started to laugh in genuine amusement as Harry, stony-faced, squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his hand and started masturbating at a frantic pace.

There was nothing else for it, really. He walked over to the bed and swung one of his legs over Harry’s hips, leaning forward on his forearms, framing Harry between them. The Lieutenant looked up at him with twinkling eyes, crinkling in the corners with affection. Kim smiled back at him, certain his eyes were a mirror image of adoration.

“Hi, Kim.” Harry mumbled between hitching breaths.

“Hello, Harry.”

Kim leaned down to kiss him, almost startling at the voracity with which Harry kissed him in return. He pulled back a moment later, sucking on Harry’s tongue as he went.

“Well?” He peered at Harry, who looked kiss-drunk and confused. “Aren’t you going to make me cum? You’re one orgasm ahead.”

Harry reached for him immediately, squeezing his slippery fingers in a warm vice around both of their cocks. Kim’s breath hitched at the contact, their solid lengths throbbing against each other, the sound of it morphing into a happy, shuddering sigh as he lowered himself down and onto his forearms. Hips pressed together, they were soon thrusting at a coordinated pace, chasing their mutual pleasure with a heated urgency. Kim’s whole body seemed to vibrate with elation.

“I’ve missed you.” Harry suddenly said in such a melodramatic voice that Kim’s eyes, having slipped shut as he lost himself in the hedonistic rhythm of fucking, snapped open at once. He smiled in exasperation, nosing at Harry’s sideburn.

“But I’m right here,” he muttered into Harry’s mutton-chopped cheek, enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his lips. “We see each other every day.”

“Work doesn’t count!” Harry protested, cutting himself off with a loud groan as Kim’s hand, having joined his own, teased at his frenulum after a particularly languorous upstroke.

Kim thought work counted a little. They were fucking right now on work time. Harry wouldn’t want to hear this, though, and Kim didn’t particularly feel like having the conversation. Every stroke on his cock felt wonderful, incredibly sensitised.

“When did we last have sex?” He breathed out, half-thinking-out-loud and half-asking.

“Nearly two weeks ago.” Harry replied bitterly.

Shit. That meant Kim also hadn’t had an orgasm in just as long. That explained why he was feeling absolutely out of his mind with pleasure in this moment, despite Harry’s grievances. He could cum at any moment. He decided to try not to do so and cleared his throat.

“We can have sex all of this weekend. I want to have sex with you, I’ve just been – “

Kim groaned as Harry squeezed them both, his dick throbbing and throbbing in the tight tunnel of that huge fist. He hoped he needn’t finish his sentence – he was far too turned on to partake in any further mollification.

“It’s okay, I get it. We’re work junkies.” Harry grunted. Good, Kim thought. Crisis averted, orgasm very much on track.

Harry turned to press his mouth to Kim’s ear.

“If you really mean it, about this weekend – I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Lieutenant. I’m gonna make you scream. You’ll be limping into the office on Monday, and everyone will know why. So prim and proper, except for when you’re not.” He finished his statement by starting to suck on Kim’s earlobe, which he knew drove him crazy. Kim’s cock drooled down his knuckles in response, and his whole body shivered.

“Fuck,” Kim moaned. He hadn’t even realised how badly he’d needed this. Everything else had paled in the face of work, even when work was slow - a bad habit of his, he knew.

He wanted to reply with some acerbic, flirtatious comment about making sure Harry would be the limping party rather than him, but a sudden wave of exhaustion and lightheadedness overwhelmed him, rendering him incapable. He sighed and leaned forward, pausing the motions of his hand as it gripped their cocks and resting his forehead on Harry’s chin for a moment, waiting for it to pass.

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, frantically but gently, using his free hand to smooth down Kim’s back reassuringly. “You okay?”

Kim considered lying. He considered doing what he had done for years with various former boyfriends – keeping them at arm’s length the second any legitimate concern was levied his way. It used to be easy enough. But now his boyfriend was Harry Du Bois, human can-opener. Lying, or at the very least downplaying, was no longer an option. More importantly, he found he actually didn’t want to lie. And so he didn’t.

“I’ve been feeling a little…off.” He admitted, resting for a moment longer. Harry continued to rub his back and gently cradle their dicks. They were so hard that Kim could feel both of their heartbeats as they nestled together.

“Mm. I thought so. Tell me how?” Harry murmured, careful not to jolt Kim as he spoke.

“Hm. Like I might be coming down with something. A cold, maybe.”

Harry’s cock gave a significant twitch at that, and Kim couldn’t help grinning despite himself.

“Ohh, honey, that’s terrible.” Harry cooed, sounding perfectly concerned and saccharine even as his hand wandered down Kim’s spine before settling on Kim’s left ass cheek and squeezing it, hard.

“You’re awful.” Kim teased, allowing himself to lean back and resume his straddle above Harry now that the headrush had started to recede.

“I mean it!” Harry offered a crooked grin that seemed to imply anything but. Kim raised an eyebrow at him, then batted Harry’s sticky hand out of the way and resumed stroking his boyfriend’s cock with renewed vigour, transforming that devilish smile into a contorted mask of pleasure.

“Sure. I totally believe you.” Kim deadpanned, trying not to show just how turned on Harry’s open lustiness was making him.

Harry was a walking collection of vices, Kim had very soon realised. If it wasn’t drink and drugs, it was something else. He lived voraciously – he worked himself to exhaustion, thought himself to despair, ate himself to temporary immobility and fucked himself to stupidity. Kim didn’t mind the last one, especially, but the point still stood. Himself being a veritable pinnacle of self-restraint and deferred gratification, one might argue Harry was his polar opposite – and yet when they were together like this, everything felt electric. Kim had never put much weight into the saying ‘opposites attract’ – not until he’d met Harry. It just – worked.

Harry seemed to suddenly remember he was a human being on this mortal plane and that Kim’s dick was currently unattended to. His hand reached between them and resumed stroking and squeezing with such passion that Kim nearly swooned with it. God, he was going to cum embarrassingly quickly.

Kim soon felt regretful over the way his tempo was beginning to falter in exhaustion, his wrist beginning to ache. It made him feel notably old and unsexy. Harry didn’t seem to notice, bucking into his grip enthusiastically, loving it all the same. That was reassuring, at the very least. Harry deserved pleasure. He wanted to give him all he could.

Something Harry liked – listening to him speak. It hadn’t taken them long into their relationship for him to confess to Kim just how much he loved the velvety smoothness of his voice, in sharp contrast to the rumbling timbre of his own, one evening over the phone. (Kim had been quick to assure him he was mutually as appreciative, both verbally and by coming into his own hand as Harry uttered pure filth down the receiver to him). He could work with that, always. Now was as good a time as ever to put his voice to use and talk Harry up to orgasm before he fell into his own.

“You know,” He started, prompting Harry to open his eyes, temporarily closed in a rictus of pleasure. “It’s relieving to get it off my chest. I’ve been sneezing practically all day – it’ll be nice to let myself sneeze freely for the remainder of this cold.”

“Fuck, Kim – you can always do that. Please always do that.”

Kim smiled, kissed Harry’s bristly cheek.

“What if I don’t think you deserve it?” He teased, rubbing his thumb in a lingering swipe over the head of Harry’s cock. It drooled precum in response.

“I’ll – fuck, I’ll be good!” Harry was almost panting.

“Yeah? You’ll be a good boy for me?” Kim murmured, stomach tingling and tightening in arousal. “You know what good boys get? Hm?”

Harry groaned in response, hips starting to buck arrhythmically. So, so close. Kim leaned to croon directly into Harry’s ear.

“They get my sneezes all over them - on their face and their cock. I use them instead of a tissue, until they cum for me. Are you my good boy, Harry?”

Much as Kim predicted he would, Harry had no chance to respond before he was shuddering and moaning, tossing his head back as the efforts of Kim’s voice and his stroking hand tipped him over the edge. Kim watched his face, one of beatific torture as the pleasure washed over him, and grunted as his own orgasm lurched ever closer. He squeezed Harry throughout, milking his cock for all it was worth and enjoying the trickle of semen over his knuckles that hadn’t spurted over their stomachs. For a man who had had an orgasm no more than fifteen minutes earlier, he still came a great deal. Kim wondered if Harry had been actively denying himself release these past two weeks – waiting for his touch until losing it today. The thought of that made him moan, cock twitching and neglected, Harry’s hand having fallen to his side mid-orgasm.

Harry finally relaxed, sinking into the mattress with a long, satisfied sigh. He wrapped his arms around Kim in a bear hug, pulling him flat down onto his chest and sandwiching their sticky torsos together. Kim chuckled in exasperation, thinking about his recent shower. Ignoring the way his solid cock dug into Harry’s lower stomach, he allowed himself to be held. This kind of full-body, skin on skin contact always felt so good. He nuzzled his nose into Harry’s neck, enjoying the sensation of those ridiculous mutton chops brushing the side of his face.

“That…was so fucking good. Shit. Fuck. I love you. Oh God…”

Kim kissed his neck by way of response, allowing the post-orgasmic platitudes to wash over him. Harry was right – two weeks without moments like this had been too fucking long.

He was pulled out of his contemplation just seconds later when his burgeoning cold decided to strike again with a vengeance. That oh-so-familiar tickle peaked almost instantly, giving him no time to warn Harry or pull away. With a surprised gasp, Kim cringed into a small fit of outrageously tickly sneezes, leaving beads of irritated tears at the corners of his eyes in their wake.

“Hh-HDZ’tzshhh!! ‘Tishhuu!! Hupt’TSshht!! ‘GXTt’shuu!!”

He snuffled and rubbed his itchy nose against the skin he had dampened, drinking in Harry’s moan and the way his body tensed against him. His nose was starting to run in earnest, so he wriggled a hand free of Harry’s embrace and reached up to pinch at his nostrils. Harry reached wordlessly for the tissue box beside the bed and handed Kim a bundle of fresh tissues. Kim took them gratefully, feeling the exhaustion of the day suddenly intensify. He lay his head on Harry’s collar bone and worked his own nostrils in lazy circles through the tissue.

“Mm. ‘Scuse me. My timing was a little imperfect.”

“Bless you, honey. You really are catching a cold, aren’t you? Poor thing.”

Kim allowed Harry to slide him off of his chest and onto his back on the bed. He watched through lidded eyes as Harry swiped at the mess on his stomach for a moment before he leaned over Kim in a reversal of their previous positions. He had almost forgotten he was still very much hard when Harry’s damp, warm hand returned to his cock. He gasped and jolted a little as those fingers wrapped around him and gave a decisive tug.

“Ohh, fuck…” He groaned a little, reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders as the bigger man picked up the pace, jerking him hard and fast.

“Your turn, baby. Gonna come for me?” Harry drawled, back vibrating with the timbre of it under Kim’s hands. Kim shuddered and sighed.

“Fuck, yes – don’t stop-!”

Harry didn’t – he stroked and squeezed him expertly, just the way Kim liked. The build up to his orgasm was almost too much to bear; he clung to Harry, tense and leaking, hardly remembering the last time he’d felt so desperate as his world focused in on the sensations of his twitching cock, eclipsing everything else.

Remarkably, even as the pleasure started to crest to the point of no return, Kim’s nostrils twitched devilishly, flaring wide with the sudden and undeniable need to sneeze. His head felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed full of cotton; everything was so intense, and the warring teasing in his nose and cock were maddening in the most incredible way. The building tickle felt orgasmic in its own right.

“Ohh, baby – need to sneeze again?” He heard Harry say. He couldn’t respond, hitching and gasping in equal parts pleasure and irritation. Harry moaned, and the sound of it made Kim throb and pulse in his grip. He truly didn’t know how much longer he could exist like this, right on the precipice of both sneezing and orgasm. An irrational part of his mind wondered how it could ever end, how he could possibly handle both releases in such close proximity.

His body made the decision before he was consciously aware of it. Hitching breaths culminating into one final, wrenching gasp, Kim was thrown forward helplessly, pressing up into Harry and gripping him tightly. He peppered the air with sneezes, no doubt all of them raining down onto the skin of Harry’s back as he shuddered with them in quick succession.

“-!! AESHHHTttt!! ‘DZTSHhh-TSSHh’ieww!! HahDTT’TSHhh-Hupt’TISHHhh’uu!!”

Kim barely had a second to recover, gasping as his orgasm hit him, seemingly without pause from the tail end of that last violent sneeze. Temporarily mute from the euphoria, he trembled against Harry, fingers digging into his back as he held on for what felt like dear life. His cock throbbed rhythmically, deeply, sending waves of pleasure through his body as it shot arcs of cum over his stomach, the most powerful climax he’d experienced in what felt like forever. When it released him, he went boneless against Harry, moaning low and long, feeling like his body was now jelly in the shape of a human. Fuck.

“Fuck.” Harry said, mirroring Kim’s thoughts, and he wanted to laugh but the exhaustion was back again, and he was so, so tired…

~~~~~

Kim woke gradually, slowly brought to the surface of consciousness by the feeling of Harry stroking his hair with a feather-light touch. He stirred a little, opening his eyes and realising, as the form of Harry remained a blur hovering over him, that he was no longer wearing his glasses.

“Hey, Kim.”

“Mmrmmf.” Was all Kim was able to manage initially, moving to sit up. Harry, however, pressed him back down against the pillowcase with a soft but firm hand. Kim was too exhausted to resist, going willingly. His brows furrowed in confusion before he remembered all at once that firstly, he was coming down with – or rather, had already caught – a gradually worsening cold; secondly, he had had an insane allergy attack earlier; and thirdly, he had seemingly fallen asleep immediately after coming his brains out. He chose to believe that the falling asleep part was due to both feeling unwell and the fact that he hadn’t orgasmed in a fortnight, not some newly encroaching middle-aged development.

“What time is it?” He asked after a couple more minutes of lying there, letting Harry pet him lovingly. He realised he wasn’t sticky and was securely bundled up in Harry’s duvet – he’d evidently been cleaned up and positioned thus whilst deep in sleep.

The blurry form of Harry raised an arm to presumably look at his watch.

“About three-thirty. You’ve only been asleep for ten minutes or so.”

“Sorry.” Kim muttered, watching blurry Harry shake his head. “Can I have my glasses? I want to see you.”

Harry gently placed the glasses on his face, and Kim smiled as he looked up at his expression of naked adoration.

“You feeling okay?” Harry asked, cupping Kim’s cheek in his palm.

“I’m tired. Really tired.” Kim sighed. “You tucked me in?”

“Sure did. You need to sleep.”

“I need to work, Lieutenant.”

“Nuh-uh.” Harry muttered plainly. “You were dead to the world, just now. You’re sick and you’re overworked, and you had an amazing – uh, horrible allergic reaction, so you’re going to spend the rest of the day and evening luxuriating in my humble abode. I changed the sheets last night, by the way. Lucky you, since we fucked on top of the duvet and all. No sleeping in the wet patch.” He finished with a wink and twin finger guns pointed at Kim, who suddenly no longer had any desire to oppose him whatsoever.

“Is that an order, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?” He mumbled, feeling himself quite embarrassingly starting to fall asleep all over again.

“Oh, it certainly is, Lieutenant. And you’d do well to follow it.” Harry smirked down at him.

Kim laughed softly, feeling his eyes already starting to slip shut. He felt Harry removing his glasses, heard him placing them gently on the nightstand. Harry was saying something else to the tune of ‘I’ll be back later’, but all Kim could focus on before he fell back into a deep sleep was the gentle warmth of Harry’s fingers ghosting over his temple.

#genuinely been trying to get this baby out there for so long lol #nametakenfic #d/isco e/lysium #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz fet #snz kink #snz fucker #snzblr #sneeze fucker

65 notes · View notes