#i love her and her heart is in the right and she's trying to help but this isn't the type of help i need
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study buddy
solstrÄle engen ft. @wileys-russo 's fresa! sol struggles with school, and facing the threat of having to repeat the year, ingrid and mapi try to get her some study help. it doesn't go... exceptionally well.
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It was more frustrating than anything. For years, you hadnât really given school much thought, or put in very much effort. And then, suddenly, youâd been shipped off to Spain and everything was different. Everything changed again six months later, and suddenly, school felt like something that held a lot more weight.
You didnât have many opportunities to make Ingrid and Mapi proud of you. Sure, theyâd say they were proud of you when you asked for help while having a panic attack, or for setting some sort of boundary. That just didnât feel⊠right. It didnât feel like it was enough. They were bending over backwards, every day, to make you feel known and seen and loved, and the least you could do was show that they were helping you, right?
So, very suddenly, school was important. Grades were important. It seemed, though, that the years of not caring and not paying attention had taken their toll. Because you studied, and you actually tried but it wasnât enough. Your grades were still⊠mediocre. Nothing to brag about.Â
You worked harder, to no avail. You tried different methods of studying, you devoted hours and hours to your schoolwork, and⊠no improvement. So much of your work felt like it went way over your head.Â
You had promised yourself you wouldnât be upset when you handed Ingrid the test youâd gotten back. She had a busy week and she really didnât need you breaking down over a stupid test, like you had earlier in the school bathroom. Your plan was to bypass your sister and her girlfriend, head straight to your room, and maybe slam the door. If you acted angry, they were more likely to give you space to calm down, which meant there was much less of a chance youâd get all pathetic and upset. Â
Only, youâd forgotten that Ingrid had known you were getting the test back today, having seen you study and study and study for it. Your sister was sure that since you studied so much, it must be a good grade, and she had a magnet all ready to attach your exam to the fridge.Â
The minute you walked into the house and saw her waiting in the kitchen, freshly showered from training, an expectant and excited look on her face, you shrunk in on yourself, very suddenly wanting a hug more than you wanted to cry silently into your pillow all alone.
âHowâd you do?!â Ingrid asked excitedly, her smile only faltering when your lip began to wobble. âSolstrĂ„le?â
âIâm sorry.â You choked out tugging the collar of your shirt up over your eyes before she could see you begin to cry. Ingridâs arms were wrapping around you only a moment later, holding you tight against her as she floundered, confused as to what had upset you.
âHey, itâs okay. Whatever happened, itâs alright. Iâve got you.â Ingrid promised, making eye contact over your head with Mapi, who had wandered into the kitchen and caught sight of you trembling against your sister.Â
Ingrid thought something must have happened at school, and Mapi quickly came to the same conclusion. The thought that youâd done poorly on your test, and this was the reason behind your distress, never even crossed her mind. Ingrid had never known you to care much about your grades, and while you were trying harder now, she didnât think something like a bad result could get you this upset.Â
âIâm really sorry. I tried my best.â You whimpered, briefly wondering when youâd turned into this person who cried at the drop of a hat and allowed her sister to hug you whenever you were upset. It was so different. Everything was so different.Â
âWhat are you sorry for?â She asked, heart melting a bit as Mapi walked closer and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before perching on the counter. âTell me, Sol, tell me whatâs wrong.âÂ
Wordlessly, you withdrew from the comforting embrace of your sister and swung your bag off your shoulder. You unzipped it, pulling out the exam from the red folder Ingrid had neatly labeled for you. You handed it to her, eyes brimming with tears again at the sight of all the red marks all over the first page.Â
Ingridâs first instinct was to sigh, but youâd been with her long enough for her to know youâd just shut down. Not to mention that she knew how much work youâd been putting into this specific exam. Prepared to ask you what had gone wrong, she looked up to see that the tears had stopped. There wasnât a hint of emotion on your face, like you were preparing yourself to be yelled at. Ingrid had no such plans.
âOh, Sol. KjĂŠre, come here.â She said instead, pulling you back into her. There was some hesitation on your part, but after a second you melted into the hug, knowing that if Ingrid was upset, she would have told you so by now. âYou studied so hard, Iâm sorry it didnât go well.âÂ
âIâm sorry.â You said again, frowning when Ingrid pulled back and placed both her hands on your face, tilting your head up to look at her.Â
âYou have nothing to be sorry for. You tried your best, thatâs all I want from you.â
You shook your head, but didnât say anything, instead opting to stare at your shoes. You hadnât taken them off at the door, breaking one of Ingrid and Mapiâs rules. This additional mistake, regardless of how small it was, made you feel even worse. You couldnât do anything right.Â
A tattooed hand grabbed yours, and you looked up at Mapi. She had moved closer, holding the exam in one hand, her other gripping yours.Â
âThis is a passing grade, mi sol. Why are you so upset? Itâs not like you to get so worked up over school.â Your face flushed, but before you could step away, Mapiâs grip tightened, as if sheâd sensed you were about to run. âCome on, itâs us. You can tell us.âÂ
âI.. Itâs not good enough.â You stammered, looking between your sister and her girlfriend with genuine despair written all across your face. âI wanted to do well. For both of you., I wanted you to be proud of me.âÂ
âOh, Sol,â Ingrid sighed, exchanging a look with Mapi that only served to make you feel even more foolish. It had taken so much for you to admit why you were working so hard, and though you knew, logically, that Ingrid wasnât trying to make you feel dumb, she had.Â
You wrenched away from her, suddenly deciding that you didn't need her pity. Backing up until you hit the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen, you began to ramble. Unable to look either Ingrid or Mapi in the eye, you missed the sadness on their faces. âNo, forget it. Itâs fine. Itâs really fine. Itâs not a big deal, Itâs my own fault, Iâm too stupid to learn stuff my classmates already know-â
âHey!â Mapi cut in, sounding uncharacteristically stern. âYou are not stupid. Donât ever say that again.âÂ
You froze, staring at her with your mouth agape. Ingrid took a cautious step closer, aware she was toeing a thin line between you breaking down again, and pushing you into anger.Â
âYou arenât stupid.â Ingrid echoed. âYouâre not stupid, and you know you arenât. Itâs just one exam, Sol, it doesnât make or break anything.âÂ
At this, you averted your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck. This exam could be a determining factor in your educational career. Ingrid just didnât really know that information yet. Like a bloodhound, though, Ingrid caught the scent of your secret, her eyebrows raising as she stared at you.Â
âIt doesnât make or break anything, right?âÂ
It was a staring contest for a few moments, one you and Ingrid both knew she would win, yet you kept it going all the same. The silence became too intense, the gazes of your sister and her girlfriend breaking your resolve rather quickly. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your bag yet again and pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope.Â
Ingrid held her hand out expectantly, apprehension clear on her face. You handed her the envelope, eyes still training on the floor.Â
âSolstrĂ„le. This is addressed to me.â Ingrid huffed, removing the letter from inside and beginning to read it. Mapi moved forward, peeking over her girlfriendâs shoulder, eyes quickly scanning over the letter. You braced yourself, prepared for the worst.Â
The last time youâd brought home something like this⊠youâd ended up living in Spain. Which was potentially the best thing that could have happened, but you had a feeling the consequences of this letter wouldnât work out as well.Â
Your sister placed the paper down on the counter, raking her fingers through her hair as she thought for a moment. She wasnât quite sure what to say. Part of her wanted to yell, but when was that ever the right choice? Before she could decide, MarĂaâs shoulder bumped into hers. Her girlfriend nodded in your direction, clearly trying to get Ingrid to see how terrified you were.Â
And Ingrid couldnât yell at you when you were like this, all sad and scared with your head bowed and your arms folded across your chest protectively.Â
âSol?â She said, her tone much quieter and kinder than you were expecting it to be. You looked up at her, shocked further to see that she didnât look very angry. âWhy didnât you give this to me last week when they sent it?âÂ
Ingrid nodded towards the date on the letter, and you exhaled shakily. âI⊠I was hoping I could just try really hard for the rest of the year and do really well in all my classes and it would be fine.âÂ
Your sister nodded slowly, reading the letter over again.Â
Mapi took the opportunity to chime in, her hand absentmindedly resting on your sisterâs back, even as she fixed her warm gaze on you. âNena, that is a lot for you to carry all by yourself. Having the threat of maybe needing to repeat the year hanging over your head⊠you should have told us.âÂ
You shrugged, blinking away the moisture pooling in your eyes at Mapiâs tone. âI didnât want to disappoint you guys.â You mumbled.Â
âYou havenât disappointed anyone!â Mapi exclaimed, frowning when you just scoffed in response. âIâm serious, Sol. We saw you study and study for this exam. You did your best, youâre doing your best. Thatâs all we can ask from you.âÂ
âMy best isnât good enough! Iâm going to fail and have to repeat the year.â You cried, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. The mere thought of another year of school was horrifying.Â
Ingrid finally put the letter down, a blazingly determined expression on her face. âNo. Youâre not going to fail anything. Weâll help you, weâll reach out to your teachers, weâll get you extra help. Weâll figure it out, Sol, but youâre not going to fail. Not if I have anything to say about it.âÂ
For anyone else, that may have sounded overbearing. For you, though, it just felt supportive. It felt like you werenât dealing with this yourself anymore, and that was a relief you didnât know you needed.Â
âOkay.â You said quietly. âThanks.âÂ
Luckily, your sister knew you well enough to understand that after such an intense conversation, youâd need some time to yourself to process.Â
âHey,â Ingrid said, catching your wrist and turning you around slightly before you could leave the room. âIâm already proud of you, and the person you are. You could fail every test for the rest of your life, and Iâd still be proud of you. Okay?â
You blinked at her for a prolonged second, before you nodded jerkily. Turning to head up the stairs to your room, you changed your mind, spinning back around and falling into your sister. She hugged you tight, as she always did, and you wondered briefly how you got so lucky.Â
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It was the following day that Mapi and Ingrid proposed their plan. Before theyâd even said anything, you knew a few things.Â
One, that they were excited about whatever plan theyâd cooked up that day at training.Â
And two, that you werenât really going to have a choice in the matter.Â
As a general rule, Ingrid and Mapi didnât make you do many things. If they thought something was important, theyâd encourage you to try it a few times, and then theyâd let you stop if you still didnât like it. That was how it had been for the schoolâs climbing club, the schoolâs hiking club, and the schoolâs baking club. All those were activities you enjoyed, but⊠activities you enjoyed doing yourself.
Well, not always.You loved to climb and hike with Ingrid. Frido, too, sometimes. And you could bake for hours with Mapi helping, measuring out ingredients and getting baking flour everywhere. But doing any of the above with strangers who spoke in rapid, fluent Spanish or catalan, was not fun. It was anxiety inducing.Â
You knew this was about to be another one of those ideas, the ones you had to give a fair shot.Â
It was at dinner, and you were trying to hide the wince everytime you picked up your water glass with your right hand, your wrist intensely aching after the time you spent in the climbing gym after school. It always hurt when you climbed for too long, though it was getting worse with every passing day. Another problem for another day, you decided, seeing the barely contained glee on Mapiâs face as she cleared her throat.Â
âWhat?â You said suspiciously, putting your fork down and narrowing your eyes at the Spaniard.Â
Mapi opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Ingrid chimed in.Â
âMapiâs made you a playdate!â She said, smirking when her girlfriend wacked her in the arm.Â
âIngrid, that is not going to help me convince her.â Mapi huffed, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.Â
Still unamused, you continued to frown at Mapi. âIâd love it if you didnât keep proposing ideas that youâd need to convince me of. Teaching you how to rock climb, trying to get that stain out of my favorite sweatshirt yourself, being the keeper while you practiced your free kicks, helping you build that bonfireââ
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â Mapi dismissed.Â
âYou got stuck on the rock wall, my sweatshirt has a hole in it, the ball hit me so hard in the stomach I threw up, and both of us lost part of our eyebrows!âÂ
Mapi glared at you, while Ingrid hid her face behind her hand as her body shook with silent laughter.Â
âWell this plan,â Mapi sighed, âis Ingrid AND Alexia approved.âÂ
That wiped the smile off your face.Â
âAlexia? What does she have to do with this?âÂ
There were a few things you knew for certain about Mapi. One, she didnât give up easily. Another, that she wanted more than anything for you to be friends with Alexiaâs little sister. And from the sly smile on her face, you were almost sure you knew where this was headed.Â
âI asked her to ask Fresa to tutor you!â
âNo.â You said immediately.Â
Mapi continued like you hadnât spoken. âFresa is a bit younger than you, but already finished your year! Sheâs studying to be a nurse, sheâs very smart. Fres speaks English and she can help you with your Spanish and any other school things you need help with.âÂ
âNo.â You repeated, looking helplessly at your sister. Ingrid looked to finally be taking the situation seriously, a familiar look on her face; one you knew meant that no matter how much you argued, she was going to get her way. Meanwhile, Mapi was still droning on.Â
ââget along great with her! I think you guys have a lot in common, and it could be fun and educational!âÂ
âAnd you know all the best things are fun and educational.â Ingrid chimed in cheerily, this time her face telling you to go along with Mapiâs idea because she was excited about it, or else.Â
âEducational.â You said sarcastically. âSuper!âÂ
Still, you agreed, Mapi grinned at you, and Ingrid patted your back reassuringly. Mapi had a lot of bad ideas. You were pretty sure this would turn out to be the worst.Â
â
You always spent more time at the climbing gym when things were rough. Back in Norway, youâd spend multiple hours a day, everyday, there. It was one of your tells; Ingrid always knew something was bothering you if you went to climb right after school. It was your way of shoving your emotions down before you could feel them, before your sister could read the hurt on your face and give you one of those tight hugs that brought tears to your eyes.Â
Only, sometimes climbing didnât do it. Sometimes, it felt like the walls were closing in, like you were about to suffocate, if you didnât have some time completely by yourself to think. On those days, you really preferred to hike. You hadnât felt that urge in a while; the urge to just disappear for hours, walk until your legs felt like they were going to fall up, and sit at the top of the trail until the world felt like a place you wanted to be in again. The last time had been back in Norway, after a day you didnât even want to think about.Â
Yet you found yourself in that same familiar mindset after your first study session with Fresa.Â
It hadnât gone well. You tried to go into it confident, sure that if you acted chill enough, sheâd maybe miss that you had no idea what you were doing with your schoolwork.Â
Confident, even as you arrived 15 minutes late. Scout had gotten his favorite toy, a small tiger that squeaked, stuck under the sofa, and it had taken you time you didnât have to get it out for him. You could have left it, but Ingrid and Mapi werenât home and you knew Scout would just sit by the couch and cry the whole time you were gone if you didnât get his tiger out for him, and you couldnât bear the thought of leaving him to be so upset. And then youâd had a hard time finding a parking space at the library, and the directions inside were all in Spanish and Fresa had texted you to follow the signs to the study rooms but you misread the sign and went to the opposite end of the library before figuring out your mistake. And you would have texted you were going to be late, because you hated being late, but your phone was dead and the cord from your car had gone missing.Â
When you entered the room, Fresa already looked annoyed.Â
Annoyed, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, twirling a pen repeatedly in an almost unconscious manner. She looked very⊠put together.Â
âLlegas tarde.â She commented, rolling her eyes when you didnât reply. Your face flushed a bit as she must have picked up on your confusion, repeating herself in english. âYou are late.âÂ
Any other time, you would have known what she said. Your issue wasnât really understanding Spanish, it was more speaking and reading it. You felt weirdly flustered though today, like your brain was distracted and not quite able to follow what the other girl was saying. Anxious, too, at this social situation youâd been forced into.Â
Briefly, you thought about explaining about Scout and the tiger and the parking space and the signs being in Spanish, but then you realized Fresa wouldnât care about any of that. So instead, you just nodded and apologized, feeling your heart start to pound from the anxiety of the situation.Â
You didnât like talking to new people. Especially pretty new people who spoke a different language and were looking at you like you werenât very smart. Even if you thought that yourself⊠you didnât want anyone else to think so. Any intention of actually asking Fresa for help with the mountains of stuff you were confused with went out the window, then, and you almost subconsciously decided to just⊠try to get through without letting her know quite how lost you were.Â
Fresa was alarmingly smart. She kept asking you questions about your work, about what you needed help with. Everything didnât feel like an answer you wanted to give. Fresa seemed organized, though, and you assumed letting her take the lead and decide what to work on would placate her. Instead, she just looked more and more annoyed with every passing second.
 She kept asking questions about this paper and that paper and you didnât know what papers she was talking about. You felt so stupid. More stupid than when youâd failed your test last week.Â
âHow do you even find the right paper in there?â Fresa asked, pulling a judgemental look as you rifled through your bag, searching for the article she was asking for.
Your bag was a mess, you knew it was a mess. Youâd knocked your coffee over all your folders a few days ago, sitting at the counter when Scout barked and startled you. That was oddly upsetting in and of itself because Ingrid had gotten you the folders and labeled them for you and you felt like youâd destroyed something nice sheâd done for you. You hadnât told her, not wanting to hurt her feelings or anything, so now your school papers were living crinkled and disorganized in your bag.
And you were pretty sure the article Fresa was asking for had been a casualty of the coffee incident, because youâd scanned the paper and thought it wasnât important before throwing it out. The Spanish had confused you, and you hadnât realized youâd need the article for an assignment. Stupid.Â
 You were feeling more and more embarrassed as the minutes passed. And, maybe, your reaction to feeling embarrassed was always anger. You pulled out a random piece of paper, slamming it down onto the table with more force than necessary in your haste to give the Spaniard something.Â
Fresa instantly knew that what youâd given her wasnât the right article, asking again if you had it as you shoved the other paper back into your bag.Â
Logically, you knew you should just⊠admit you threw it away because you didnât realize you needed it. For some reason, you just couldnât get the words out of your mouth. You couldnât get any words out of your mouth, feeling shockingly like crying. Nothing was going right and you were making yourself look like an idiot and all you could do was shrug as Fresa looked at you and took a deep breath.Â
Then, she seemed to come to some kind of realization, her expression softening slightly.Â
âCan you not read this? The spanish?âÂ
You flinched, feeling your face flush. Again, the reply of âno I canât, would you please help me?â seemed to evade you. Instead, you spewed some lie about being able to read the article, calling Fresaâs questions stupid and telling her she was wasting your time.Â
Fresa seemed to have reached her breaking point, her voice rising as yours had. You didnât really hear what she said, much too distracted by the way her eyebrows knitted together when she was frustrated, and the way her hand tightly gripped the pen she was holding.Â
Then, she made an offensive impression of your shrugging. And if you hadnât been angry before, you were absolutely fuming now.Â
So what if you were quiet? It wasnât like you really needed to talk much, considering how many questions sheâd asked. You were furious at being called out for all your bullshit, feeling like a mess compared to the perfect girl next to you. A very angry mess whoâd had a long day and was cursing one MarĂa LeĂłn for making her do this and cursing the beautiful girl next to her for being so infuriating. Â
âAlexiaâs super little sister. Everyone says you are so smart. Can you not see I do not want your help? You want to be a doctor, no? So go find someone who does.âÂ
Fresaâs nostrils flared as she shoved her chair away from the table and got to her feet. She began angrily putting her stuff into her bag, and you remained completely still, unable to stop this whole meeting from going up in flames.Â
âEres un maldita idiota!â Fresa snapped, her face red with anger.Â
There wasnât really anything worse she could have said to you at that moment.Â
âSnobbete kjerring.â You threw back, feeling a sharp spike of satisfaction when she zipped her bag angrily, completely incapable of understanding what youâd called her.Â
âYou know, I did this as a favor, tonta. I have worked all day, I came right here after my shift, on time. I have my own studies to do because yes, I want to be a nurse. I am smart, and I know what I want to do with my life. Maybe if you get your head out of your own ass, Engen, you might too! And you are right, this is a waste of time. My time!â
Fresa stomped out of the room, then, and you waited until she was out of sight before dropping your head into your hands with a deep sigh.Â
That couldnât have gone⊠any worse. And though it was probably all mostly your fault, you couldnât help the resentment building for the intelligent, stuck up girl that had thrown insult after insult at you, hitting you in all the places it hurt. You packed your own stuff up once you were sure you wouldnât run into Fresa again in the parking lot or something, shuffling dejectedly to your car.
The overthinking had begun. Was it really overthinking, you wondered, if youâd actually completely fucked up and the reasons for your anxiety were entirely reasonable? You werenât sure, and you supposed it didnât matter, your thoughts quickly spiraling as you rewinded the short meeting in your head.Â
The shrugging had really gotten to her, but you werenât sure what else to do. When in doubt, you had learned silence got you the best results. Often, no one really cared what you had to say anyway. Fresa was different, though, looking at you with her wide eyes, expecting an answer. It was intimidating. It scared you, honestly, how well the other girl seemed to see right through you.Â
And maybe⊠maybe there were some other feelings brewing. Ones you didnât want to consider. Feeling that didnât even matter given the way Fresa had stormed out. It didnât seem like there would be another study session.
This led you to your other problem. Youâd fucked this up. Something your sister and Mapi had gone out of their way to set up for you, because they didnât want you to have to repeat the year.Â
You didnât like to make mistakes. Every single one you made carried the risk that Ingrid would lose her patience with you, and give up. She hadnât yet, and youâd messed up a fair amount in the past several months, but you couldnât let yourself believe that no mistake could push her away. That just wasnât a possibility. So, rather than face your failure, tell Ingrid and Mapi how awkward and weird youâd been, you ran.Â
Or walked, you supposed. Your study session with Fresa had ended at 4:00, and it was almost 8 when you found yourself at the top of your favorite trail, legs scratched and aching, as the sun slipped below the horizon. Your phone was still dead and now Ingrid was absolutely going to kill you for going off the grid.Â
You broke traffic laws on the way home, any peace youâd found at the top of the hiking trail entirely gone as anxiety began to build up inside of you again.Â
Stepping into the house, you slipped off your muddy shoes, wincing at the blood trickling down the few cuts on your legs. Before you could even set your car keys down, though, footsteps were pounding down the hallway towards you.Â
âOh, thank god.â Ingrid gasped, sounding alarmingly emotional as she rushed forward and crushed you into a hug. âSheâs here!âÂ
âDios mio.â Mapi muttered, appearing over your sisterâs shoulder a moment later. Ingrid pulled away from you, her hands on your shoulders keeping you at arm's length. Her face quickly transformed from relieved to furious.Â
âWhere the hell have you been?â She hissed.Â
âIââ
âDo you have any idea how worried Iâve been? You didnât call, you didnât text. You were supposed to be home hours ago, Sol. Your location wouldnât show up on my phone, Fresa even said you ended your meeting early,â Ingrid ranted, though you began to tune her out at the sound of her name.Â
âYou talked to Fresa?â You interrupted, ignoring the incredulous look on Ingridâs face, turning your attention towards Mapi who was staring stonily at you.Â
âThat doesnât fucking matter right now. Where were you? Are you drunk? High? Were you fighting?â Ingrid demanded.
Each accusation felt like a bullet to the heart as Ingrid grabbed your chin and yanked it towards her, looking intently at your eyes. You shoved her away angrily; Ingrid wasnât supposed to see you as that person anymore. She had promised that she didnât, that she knew you werenât a bad kid, that you had just been having a hard time. Now, though. She was looking at you like she didnât trust a word that was about to come out of your mouth.Â
âNo.â You spat at her, grabbing your phone from your pocket and slamming it on the front hall table. âI went on a hike after I met Fresa and my phone died. I lost track of time. I wasnât getting drunk or high and I wasnât fighting anybody, but thanks for having some faith in me.â Your voice dripped with sarcasm, and even though you expected Ingrid to soften with a bit of guilt, she only seemed emboldened with anger.Â
âDonât you dare turn this around on me. You were supposed to be back four hours ago SolstrĂ„le. Four! This was so irresponsible. Do you not care that we were worried? Do you not care that we were here waiting for you? That Mapi made dinner, and you were going to work on her bike? Or that we were supposed to make cookies? After everything weâve done for you, SolstrĂ„le, I expect more.â She was shouting at this point, pacing back and forth in front of you.Â
You looked to Mapi, hoping for her to step in and talk her girlfriend down, but she looked almost as mad as Ingrid was, and you shrunk in on yourself.
âYou areâŠ. you are grounded. This is unacceptable, and you better never let it happen again. That is not how family behaves SolstrĂ„le. Did you think about how worried we would be? I am so upset with you, so disappointed that you didnât think about anyone but yourself, that you were so selfishââ
âAlright, Ingrid. Enough.â Mapi cut in finally, stepping forward to grab her girlfriend's hand and squeeze it. You were frozen in front of your sister, fighting the sob that was building in your throat.Â
Ingrid stepped back, her face still red with anger. A hint of regret flickered across her face at the sight of your lip trembling and the tears in your eyes. Still, you looked confused, and Ingrid couldnât shove her anger down at your lack of understanding. She turned, stomping off towards the kitchen, leaving you and Mapi behind.Â
âSol-â
âIâm going to shower. Sorry, Mapi. Iâm sorry.â You mumbled, pushing past her and heading up the stairs before the Spaniard could get out another word. Â
Mapi sighed tiredly, rubbing her hand over her face. Her Engens were going to make her go grey.Â
â
You had only just pulled some pajamas on after your shower when Mapi knocked, her gentle voice calling to you from the hall.Â
âYeah?â You called back, voice gravelly from all the sobbing you had done in the shower.Â
Mapi entered, the first aid kit in her hands and a much calmer expression on her face. She was in her pajamas, too, clearly having been waiting up for you to get out of the shower. It had been a long one. Another thing to be sorry for, keeping Mapi awake.Â
âCan I help with your legs?â She wondered, gesturing to the many cuts that littered them.
Shrugging noncommittally, you sunk down onto the edge of the bed, Mapi soon taking a seat opposite you. She pulled your calf up to rest across her lap, getting out the antiseptic spray and a few bandages. You purposefully looked away, barely having been able to get the blood off in the shower without getting light headed.Â
âAre you okay, mi sol?â Mapi murmured, fanning her hands over the cuts so the spray would dry faster. Mapi had a way of looking at you, eyes crinkled with concern and kindness, that made you want to burst into tears. You fought that instinct.Â
âI am fine.âÂ
Mapi sighed, unwrapping a few of the bandages and beginning to carefully put them on you.Â
âThen someone else was crying in the shower while you were in there?âÂ
No reply came, and Mapi sighed again, tapping your leg to tell you she was done with that one.Â
âLook, I know Ingrid was harsh, but you have to understand how worried she was. How worried we both were. I know you still remember the things you wrote in that letter all those months ago. Things like that donât just go away, Sol, and when you disappear for hours without a word, we worry.âÂ
This time, Mapi got a shrug in reply, and a small sniffle. She finished up with your other leg, gently pushing it off her lap and pulling you into a soft hug. âItâs okay, SolstrĂ„le. Everything is fine now.âÂ
You scoffed through your tears. âNothing is fine, Mapi. I screwed up with Fresa, I screwed up with Ingrid. They both probably hate me. Please, just go. Iâm tired.âÂ
Mapi shook her head. âYouâre upset, I just want toââ
âNo Mapi, just leave me be.â You tried to sound firm, but your voice was shaking almost as much as your hands were, and you were sure you just came off as pathetic.Â
âAlright, nena. I love you, hmm? Donât be too hard on yourself.âÂ
You remained silent, flopping back onto your bed as Mapi walked out of the room. Scout hopped up on the bed in her absence, licking your cheek twice before curling into your side.Â
It wasnât being too hard on yourself; the self hatred you felt in that moment was completely justified. You were very sure of that.Â
â
You were tucked into bed when the door creaked open again, Scout not even bothering to lift his head from where it was tucked into the comforter draped over your leg. You blinked your eyes open and they widened in surprise at the sight of Ingrid walking into the room, hair messy as though sheâd been tossing and turning. She neared the edge of your bed, leaning down and kissing your forehead gently.Â
âGoodnight, sweetheart. I donât hate you, okay? I love you very much. Everything is going to be okay, so just try to get some rest.âÂ
You nodded weakly, impatiently pushing a tear off your cheek with the back of your hand. âIâm sorry, Ingrid. Really sorry.âÂ
âItâs alright. Youâre safe, yes? And thatâs all that really matters.â Ingrid promised, and you nodded, sniffling pathetically. âWe can talk more tomorrow, but just go to sleep, okay? Everything is fine.âÂ
âLove you.â You mumbled, Ingrid smiling softly down at her. You didnât often say that first, something Ingrid attributed to having said it to your Mamma and not heard it back so many times.Â
âI love you.â Ingrid replied, patting your cheek twice before tucking the covers up tighter around you, and heading out of the room.Â
â
You woke up to a few unexpected things the next morning. One, it was almost 11 and Scout hadnât woken you up demanding a walk. In fact, Scout was nowhere to be found. Two, the sounds of Mapiâs Spanish soap and Ingridâs clanging around the kitchen echoed through the house. Youâd forgotten they had the day off today. Ingrid must have taken Scout out to let you sleep in.Â
The first two unexpected things, then, were explainable. The third⊠was not.Â
A text from Fresa.Â
Tuesday at the library. If you want to give it another shot. I think I can help.Â
You thought about the way youâd behaved, and the way Fresa had spoken to you. Before you could delete the thread with her and close your phone, though, you thought about the letter youâd hidden from your sister. The excited smile on Mapiâs face when youâd agreed to let Fresa tutor you.Â
Before you quite knew what you were doing, you pulled the message back up, your fingers typing away without you telling them to.
Yeah. Iâd appreciate that. What time?Â
There was something that drew you to Fresa, even as she infuriated you. Maybe it was how her voice had softened when sheâd asked if you couldnât read the Spanish on the paper, or maybe it was how sheâd smiled unconsciously, watching Alexia score a goal the past weekend. It was a nice smile. And she had a nice voice.Â
None of it really made any sense to you, but youâd already sent the text.Â
â
For some reason, you felt a bit awkward. There was something very odd about knowing Mapi had been upset with you, because normally that was just Ingrid. But you knew Mapi had been just as worried last night as Ingrid, and just as upset. Sheâd been in the garage all morning, too, and you wondered if she was avoiding you or allowing you to decide to come to her if you wanted to talk.
After the 5th time you glanced at the door to the garage, though, Ingrid rolled her eyes from where she was sitting at the other end of the couch, typing away on her computer.Â
âGo talk to her. Sheâs not angry, I promise.âÂ
Ingrid wasnât angry anymore, either. Youâd spoken with her practically first thing when youâd woken up, apologizing again and again and emphasizing that you hadnât really realized how your actions would have affected Ingrid until it was too late.Â
Youâd told her about a time back in Norway when youâd stayed out all night after a fight with your Mamma, and when youâd come home the next morning, she hadnât even noticed that youâd been gone. Ingrid understood a bit more, then, and was quick to hug you tight and whisper that she forgave you.
And even though Mapi had come in last night and tried to make you feel better, you knew she might have been waiting to be upset until she knew for sure you were okay. That made you even more nervous.Â
Ingrid snorted from behind you when you knocked on the door to the garage, as normally you just walked right in. You shot her a glare, stepping inside the garage at the sound of Mapiâs quiet come in.Â
The defender didnât glance up as you walked in, but you took a seat in the chair next to her. Your chair.Â
It was quiet for a moment, the sounds of Mapiâs metal tool gently clanging against the bike.Â
âWhat did Fresa say to you last night?â You blurted out, face flushing red because why was that the first thing out of your mouth.Â
Mapi fixed you with a half amused look, shaking her head. âThat is what youâre asking?âÂ
âNo.â You sighed. âAre you mad at me?âÂ
âNo.â Mapi echoed, going quiet for a moment as she thought. âNot mad. Itâs just hard for me, Sol. Last night, you didnât even think that weâd be worried about you and where you were. It just makes me a bit sad.â
âOh.âÂ
âAnd itâs not your fault, nena. I just worry for you.âÂ
You nodded slowly. âIâm really sorry. I should have thought about how worried you guys would have been.â
Mapi gave you a half smile. âI know you are. And you wonât do it again sĂ?âÂ
Your head bobbed up and down rapidly as you agreed, more sure than youâd ever been that youâd not be doing something that stupid again.Â
âNow. Why are you so concerned with what Fresa said to me, hmm? What did you do?"
â
#woso imagine#woso x reader#barcelona femeni x reader#woso one shot#woso fanfics#ingrid engen x platonic reader#ingrid engen x mapĂ leon#engen!reader#ingrid engen x reader#mapi leon x platonic reader#mapi leon x reader#đâïž
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the thought of rafe taking care of his newborn. maybe mama went to shower and she comes out and she hears the baby just hard crying and she checks on them, and rafes covered in spit up and heâs trying to sponge bath her in the kitchen sink softly talking to her
mini version of myself livin' in me - r.c
pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: none.
the warm spray of water and the scent of lavender swarmed around you like a hug as you stood under the pressure shower.
it had been one of those long daysâyour baby girl's cries louder than usual, her needs more demanding, and your sleep-deprived body feeling drained. but the thought of rafe taking care of her while you finally took a moment for yourself brought a giddy smile to your face.
once you were done, you turned off the water, wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, and stepped out, only to still be welcomed by the sound of your daughterâs cries across the house, louder and more urgent.
your heart thudded as you reached the source, feet still damp against the wooden floor.
the sight in the kitchen made you stop.
rafe stood by the sink, his broad back slightly hunched as he leaned over your baby girl. his shirt was splattered with spit-up, damp spots spreading across his chest and sleeves, a wet dishtowel in hand, and completely focused on autumn.
your baby was in the sink, squirming and red-faced. he cradled her with one arm while using the other to gently sponge her down with a damp cloth. his hair, usually perfectly messy, stuck to his forehead in damp strands, and there was a smear of baby lotion on his cheek.
autumn's tiny fists waved in the air, her cries coming in shuddering gasps, his thumb tracing delicate circles on her belly, his expression infinitely tender.
âshh, i know. almost done. i promise,â he planted a soft kiss on her forehead before continuing to gently wash her. she let out another hiccuped wail and his voice continued as a low, soothing hum, âhey, sweetheart, itâs okay,â he cooed, running the cloth over her chubby arms. âdaddyâs here.â
her cries came in hiccups now, and you watched, heart swelling twice in size, as rafe chuckled to himself despite the chaos around him.
âyouâre tough, just like your mama."
you leaned against the doorway, a warm smile spreading across your face. there he was, the man you fell in love with, completely wrapped up in his role as a father, covered in spit-up and unfazed.
he must have sensed your presence, because he turned, his blue eyes lighting up with relief when they met yours. âhey,â he said, a little sheepishly. âdidnât hear you come in.â
âlooks like you two had fun,â you mused, moving closer. your gaze fell on the little face that looked back at you, blue eyes wide and tear-streaked. the hiccupped sobs had quieted, and her tiny fingers now curled and uncurled, reaching for something familiar.
âyeah,â rafe said with a lopsided smile, running a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier. âbut weâre good, right, little lady?â he leaned down and rubbed his nose lightly against hers, eliciting a soft, surprised coo from autumn.
you rested your hand on his damp arm and he shifted slightly so you could see her better. you stroked her chubby cheek, your fingers tracing the perfect features that were a blend of both of you.
âsheâs calmer now,â you said, the tension in your body unwinding as you looked at your husband.
âonly because youâre here,â he replied, turning his head to plant a quick, affectionate kiss on your temple. the way his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes made you fall in love all over again.
âyouâre soaked,â you laughed, brushing your thumb over the damp splotch on his shoulder.
âhazards of the job,â he said, smirking. âbut sheâs worth it.â
suddenly, the tiniest sound brokeâa quick, unmistakable baby fart.
there was a second of silence as rafeâs eyes widened comically, and you couldnât help the laugh that bubbled up.
âdid she justâŠâ you started, your voice already filled with laughter.
rafeâs expression changed from disbelief to a look of exaggerated dread. he shot you a pleading look, brows raised. âi donât even wanna check. please, for the love of all thatâs holy, tell me she didnât shart on my hand again.â
you covered your mouth, failing to stop a giggle from spilling out, and took a step forward to peer at your daughter, who now seemed quite content, eyes wide and bright. âoh, she definitely did,â you nodded.
he groaned, head tilting back as if appealing to the heavens.
âwhy me?â he asked, half-joking, half-resigned, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.
âbecause youâre her dad,â you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek. âand she already knows youâre wrapped around her little finger.â
rafe rolled his eyes, looking down at autumn, who gave a soft, innocent coo. âyeah, yeah. youâre lucky youâre cute.â
âsheâs definitely yours,â you added, brushing your hand over her growing hair. âshe farts just like you.â
his jaw dropped, eyes wide. âexcuse me?â he sputtered, hand on his chest as if youâd just hit him with the worst insult imaginable. âare you serious right now?â
you laughed, the sound coming out so naturally that even your baby seemed to sense the lightheartedness, letting out a warbling giggle of her own. âi mean, the resemblance is uncanny,â you added, doubling down.
he leaned in closer. âfor the record, my farts are silent,â he declared, trying to keep a straight face.
â...if you say so,â you drew out the words with mock skepticism.
rafeâs mouth fell open in playful indignation. âhey! i barely fart in front of you!â he said, defensiveness in his voice as he pointed at you.
âsure, sweetheart,â you replied, giving him a patronizing pat on the arm. your grin widened when you saw his eyes narrow in faux irritation.
âno, really!â he protested, shaking his head and trying not to smile. âyou make me sound like iâm just walking around the house, letting loose left and right.â
you leaned in, your voice low, ârafe, there was that one time on movie nightââ
âoh, come on! that was once!â he said, throwing his hands up in exaggerated defeat. his sudden movement made your daughter wiggle in his arms, and she let out a content gurgle as if agreeing with you.
âsee? even she remembers,â you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
âgreat. now iâm outnumbered in my own house,â he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching up.
you pressed another kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin.
âdonât worry, daddy. we still love you, gas and all.â rafe was already halfway through a shit-eating grin when you rolled your eyes so deep into the back of your skull. âgrow up,â you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. âyou donât have to smirk every time i call you âdaddy.ââ
rafe chuckled, entirely unapologetic, âwhat? itâs not my fault you say it in that voice!â
âi hope she shits on you again.â
he let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest in feigned betrayal. "wow. cursing me with more spit-up and sharts? youâre cruel.â
autumn let out a loud noise, drawing your attention back to her. she gazed up at rafe with wide, adoring eyes, her tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb.
his voice softened as he looked down at her, completely captivated. âguess i wouldnât mind a few more spit-ups,â he confessed, a look of pure love in his eyes.
you smiled as you watched them. âlucky for you, i donât think sheâs done with those anytime soon.â
i cannot confirm or deny if this was also inspired by mads fart video on ig
#itneverendshere worksâš#requested#bartender!pogue!reader x rafe#rafe cameron x pogue!bartender!reader#bartender!reader!universe#bartender!pogue!reader universe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe x pogue!bartender!reader#rafe x pogue!reader#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron au#rafe fic#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron imagine#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron one shot#dad!rafe cameron
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Have You Ever Tried This One? | m.s.
Summary: The triplets attend singer!reader's concert and Matt gets catches her eye from the crowd.
Part 2 Here!!
Warnings: insinuating sexual acts, talks of sex positions
Word Count: 640 words
My Master List
Join my tag list : @matthewsroses
Divider by: @anitalenia
A/N: This is inspired by this post by @delilahsturniolo . Thank you for letting me use your work as inspiration! Also thank you to @chestersturniolo for helping me find her piece. I do not give consent for my work to be reposted, rewritten, or shared on this platform or any other.
<3 - Billie
The lights in the arena darkened around the group standing at the barricade. Matt, Nick, Chris, and Chris' girlfriend cheered along with everyone else as you appeared in a spotlight on the stage. "Boston! It's so good to see you!" you exclaimed into the microphone causing the crowd to roar. Matt practically had hearts for eyes as you sauntered around the stage in small, sparkly outfits. Sure, he had heard your music and seen you in photos before, but there was something different about seeing you in front of him. Chris and Nick quickly took notice of Matt's in awe state and chuckled.
After a few numbers you had reached the interactive section of your concert. Oftentimes you chose a person in the crowd who was dancing the most or seemed to be having the best time. It was never actually based on your physical attraction to someone, until this time. You had been eyeing the three identical boys in the front row. One specifically caught your eye. You'd seen these boys online before and while you didn't know much about them, you knew which one you wanted. He seemed a bit more quiet than the other two and was staring at you like you were glowing. "Girls, girls, come here!" you spoke into the mic, gesturing for two of your dancers to come over. "Do you see that guy right there? Yes, the triplet but that one, with the pink t shirt," you pointed in Matt's direction. He froze as the camera panned to him for the crowd to see on the big screen. Everyone went wild causing Nick and Chris to bust out laughing. The lights throughout the arena flashed red and blue as a siren sound played throughout the stadium. You knelt down in front of him, "hey there, what's your name?" You cooed into the microphone, batting your eyelashes.
"M-Matthew!" he stammered nervously as Nick filmed the interaction.
"Oh Matthew, I'm afraid you're under arrest. You are just way too hot!" You giggled into the microphone, "Will you take these sweetie?" The security guard took the fuzzy pink handcuffs from your hand and held them over the barricade for Matt to grab. His blush was iminent as he took them with a smile and a nod. You stood back up, winking at him. "There are so many thoughts running through my head, Matthew. Dirty, dirty - oh! my clothes are falling off for you, Matthew!" You laughed stepping out of your dress revealing a shiny pink body suit. The intro of the song began and you danced and sang with your crew. "Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad's genetics," You sang, gesturing to the triplets with a giggle. Every once in a while throughout the song you'd shoot Matt a look or a wink. "You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah. Wanna try out some freaky positions? Hey Matthew, have you ever tried this one?" You sat on your knees with one arm in the air doing a lasso motion to represent cowgirl. Matt about fell over and Chris was a laughing mess next to him. His brothers could not believe what they were witnessing.
That song ended and the show continued. A few songs later, the triplets and Chris' girlfriend were approached by someone from your team. "Matt?" Your manager asked, "You've all been requested backstage after the show." She smiled handing them all passes and getting back to work.
"No way!" Chris' girlfriend jumped up and down.
"Dude, your charm got us connections!" Nick laughed patting Matt on the shoulder. Matt stood staring at the backstage passes in awe. He couldn't believe that you had noticed him in the first place but also to invite him backstage??
#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt stuniolo fanfic#Spotify
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Adore Me
Spencer Reid x famous singer!reader
Summary: Spencer takes his friends to see his girlfriend at her live show in DC. He didnât realize she was going to play a specific song about him that has him blushing and his friends joking about it
a/n: This is a random draft based on Juno by Sabrina Carpenter. Itâs not chronological with the other one I posted. Nice comments are appreciated lol.
Spencer sat in the dimly lit venue next to his friends. The buzz of excitement filled the air as the crowd eagerly awaited performance of famous singer Y/Nâwho just so happened to be his girlfriend.
As the lights went down, the audience erupted in cheers. His heart raced as he looked at his friends. They were genuinely excited, especially Penelope. She had been talking about this ever since Spencer asked them all to come.
When Y/N stepped into the spotlight, wearing a stunning outfit that sparkled in the stage light, Spencer was left speechless. Her voice flowed through the crowd, captivating the crowd, mostly filled by young women. He couldnât help but smile watching her interact with her fans.
Then she started singing one of her newest songs, one Spencer was surprised by when it started playing. One of Y/Nâs most suggestive songs, obviously about him.
âDonât have to tell your hot ass a thing. Oh yeah you just get it.â
âWhole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dadâs geneticsâ
Spencer blushed. Side eyeing Derek already knowing the look on his face and the playful banter that was to come. It was obvious to the whole room what the innuendos implied.
Derek leaned over, grinning. âYour girlfriend is something else, Reid. You sure you can handle all that?â Spencer stuttered trying to form a rebuttal but he like Emily always said âAnd just like that, IQ 187 is slashed to 60â.
The song progressed. Getting more and more suggestive making Spencer more and more bashful.
âI know you want my touch for life.â
âIf you love me right then who knows? I might let you make me Junoâ
His colleagues kept looking at him, trying to suppress their laughter at his reaction. âLooks like someoneâs blushingâ Emily joked.
âYou make me wanna make you fall in love.â
âOh, late at night Iâm thinking âbout you, ahâ
âWanna try out some freaky positions?â
Y/N gets down on her elbows and knees looking directly at Spencer with a suggestive smile on her face.
âHave you ever tried this one?â
Spencer immediately buried is face in his hands. His friends hooting and cheering before they turned to look at his reaction. It was both thrilling and mortifying watching his girlfriend exude such confidence on stage. Thrilling because of how talented she is, mortifying because of how his friends were looking at him right now.
The song started to slow down a little, getting to the bridge. The most direct lyrics about to be sang. He was not mentally prepared for this.
âAdore me. Hold me and explore me.â
Y/N began to slowly walk over to the side of the stage facing Spencer.
âMark your territory.â
âTell me Iâm the only, only, only, only oneâ
She sang making direct eye contact with him. He was so done. The teamâs genius swore he was brain dead by how entranced he was by her.
âAdore me. Hold me and explore me.â
She sang again as she got down on her knees once more. Laying on her back suggestively.
âIâm so fucking horny.â
At this point the whole audience could tell who she was performing this song for.
âTell me Iâm the only, only, only, only oneâ
She sang one last time before getting back on and proceeding with the rest of the show.
Not only were Spencerâs friends speechless, but for what felt like the first time ever, so was he.
When the show ended, the crowd erupted in cheers once more as Y/N bowed, her eyes searching for Spencer in the crowd. The moment she spotted him, her expression softened, and she smiled excitedly.
After the show, Spencer approached her, still flushed. "You were amazing," he managed to say, his voice slightly shaky. "Thanks, babe! Did you enjoy it?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eye. âUh yeahâ he stuttered. âMaybe a little bit too muchâ Derek interjected with a laugh.
Y/N laughed, stepping closer. âYou know, I was thinking about that songâŠâ
Spencer swallowed hard, antsy to figure out where this was going. âYeah?â he asked. âMaybe we can recreate it laterâ she whispered, winking at him.
His heart raced at her suggestion, and he felt both flattered and flustered. "I'd like that," he replied, unable to suppress his cheeks blushing even harder.
âSo how about some after show drinks?â she suggested to the group. They all erupted in cheers of agreement.
As they walked out of the venue, Derek whispered to Penelope âI didnât think Spencer watched anything but documentaries. How does he know what Juno is?â She just laughed shrugging her shoulders.
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Sleeper
Summary : When Bucky falls in love with the antihero heâs sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts*.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x antihero!reader (she/her)Â
Warnings/tags : Violence, death, sex (a prominent theme but not graphic), cursing. Borderline obsessive behaviour. Congressman Barnes as per the Thunderbolts teaser. Batman/Catwoman-like dynamic. (Let me know if I miss anything.)
Word count : 6.5k
Note : This fic was genuinely written because of the van scene in the Thunderbolts trailer. Thatâs it. Thatâs how down bad I am for Thunderbolts Bucky. Reader is an antihero called âSleeper.â The Thunderbolts are referred to as âthe team.â The reader and Bucky first met a little bit before FATWS. I also have a cap! Sam fic coming out soon because my god. I am drooling over these two. Enjoy!
Bucky first heard of your existence in whispers.
He had heard your codename in hushed tones when he got off the ice in Wakanda, after Shuri helped rid his brain of the trigger words that haunted him.
Several of the Dora Milaje had crossed paths with you in Ivory Coast, and they had told everyone in the palace about how terrifyingly efficientâand violentâ you had been. They said you finished the job before they even got there.
Your codename was nothing but silent rumours by those on the fringes of the intelligence community. They called you âSleeperââ it wasn't a name you chose for yourself, but you have chosen to embrace the fear that people associated with it.Â
You were an antihero, a vigilante who left rivers of blood in your wake.
Four years ago, you started tracking down the same corrupt officials and Hydra remnants that Bucky was trying to arrest.
The difference: Bucky set out to turn them in, you had your heart set on killing them, fast and efficient, as you always have been.
The first time you crossed paths with the former Winter Soldier, it was in a crumbling KGB safehouse in Eastern Europe. Bucky had taken down most of the guards, ready to haul the high-ranking operative to a jail cell in DC where he can await his trial. He was tired, the strain of therapy and sleepless nights holding him down, but this mission kept him focused.
But when he reached the operativeâs office, the target was already slumped over his desk, cold and lifeless.Â
"Guess I beat you to it, soldier," you said, voice laced with a confidence that made his stomach twist. You let him process the sight of youâfitted black suit, gloved hands, and a smirk that told him you were not only dangerous, but damn well aware of it. A mask obscured your eyes, but even with half of your face covered, he could see how smug you looked.
âI didnât ask for your help,â he said, voice low.
âGood thing I wasnât asking for you permission.â You tilted your head, the ghost of a laugh in your voice. You were watching him, sizing him up with those sharp eyes that felt like they could through see every part of him he tried to keep hidden.Â
âSergeant James Barnes, right?â You said his name with a familiarity that sent a jolt through him. âIâve heard a lot about you. Never thought Iâd actually run into you, though. Lucky night for me.â
He narrowed his eyes, not trusting this mysterious stranger, though he couldnât deny he was intrigued. âAnd you areâŠ?â
âI have no name to claim for myself,â you shrugged, leaning back against the wall, âbut people call me Sleeper.â You let the name linger, knowing heâd recognize it.Â
His memory reeled back to Ayo and the Dora Milaje, who had warned him of you: ruthless, volatile. A ghost who disappeared without a trace, always a step ahead. Heâd just never expected Sleeper to be⊠so easy on the eyes.
âI didnât ask for your help.â He repeated with no conviction. He narrowed his eyes at the body. âEspecially not like this.â
You shrugged, pushing off the wall and strolling over. âRelax, soldier,â your gaze met his, âI only go after the ones who deserve it. Just because I do it my way doesnât mean Iâm the villain here.â
âStill doesnât make it right,â he muttered, but there was a flicker of curiosity underneath his stormy blue eyes.
âThen stop me,â you challenged softly, leaning close enough to feel his breath. âIf you can.â
His breath hitched ever so slightly.
You grinned, a spark of intrigue lighting up in your gaze. âIâll be waiting, James.â
And before he could respond, you were gone.
He knew he shouldâve stopped youâ but some part of him was glad he hadnât.Â
As you disappeared, he felt something he hadnât in a long, long time: excitement.
â
From that day on, Bucky couldnât get you out of his head.Â
At first, it was frustrating. You were hard to track, ruthlessâand yet there was a sickening righteous principle to your actions that he couldnât deny.
As the weeks went by, something else rooted in his brain when he thought of you. Fascination.Â
His mind often wandered about you during his quiet, sleepless nights, wondering who you were beneath the mask, beneath the mystery and the whispers.
Sam noticed, of course. He'd raise an eyebrow whenever Bucky lingered too long over case files where you'd been mentioned. Heâd nudge if he seemed overly eager to volunteer for missions that involved your typical targets.
âMaybe youâll get lucky and sheâll show,â Sam teased once, nudging Bucky. âSheâs dangerous, though. Is that your type?â
Bucky scoffed, but he knew Sam was right. And maybe that danger was part of what kept him intrigued.
â
The next time you crossed paths, it was in a dark alleyway, both of you dripping with sweat and breathing heavily after taking down an underground fighting ring.Â
âYou know,â heâd said, ïżœïżœkilling them doesnât make it justice.â
âYou think turning them in is enough?â Your voice had cut through the air like a knife, but there was no malice behind it. You wanted him to understand your line of thinking, wanted him to know. âPeople like them are everywhere. Theyâll get out. Theyâll come back.â
âSo you think you get to decide whether they live or die?â he challenged, jaw tight.
âNo,â you said, readjusting your mask. âBut I do it anyway.â There was a flicker of sadness in your gaze that he noticed, even if you tried to hide it.
What had happened to you? He thought to himself. What have you been through?
In that moment, he noticed the pain behind your eyes, the kind of pain he knew intimately. You werenât just someone who killed for vengeance; you must have had your reasons. You must have carried scars that ran deep, maybe deeper than his.
â
From that point on, Bucky made it a habit to look for you on every mission. It was like an unspoken game, this cat-and-mouse chase. Every time he saw you, the tension between you grew.Â
Sometimes, heâd get there first, managing to intercept before you could execute the target. Other times, youâd arrive at the same time. Heâd try to talk you out of it, to make you see things his way, but youâd laugh him off, the kind of laugh that hinted at more than your fair share of heartache.Â
And sometimes, youâd tease him, push boundaries he wasnât sure he should cross.
âYou like this, donât you, James?â Youâd whisper it low, close enough for him to catch your scent, a faint hint of gunpowder and vanilla perfume. âThe chase. Getting to play the hero while I get my hands dirty.â
He wanted to deny it, but he couldnât.Â
â
Bucky grew obsessed, even if he wouldnât admit it. Every encounter left him more and more drawn to you. Heâd search for files on you for days on end without sleep, but all he found were reports with no concrete evidence. He found himself looking for excuses to track your movements, hoping heâd be there to stop you but not quite sure he wanted to succeed.
One night, after another close call, you leaned into him as he pushed you up against the wall. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the electricity charged in the space between you. You looked up at him, the smallest hint of vulnerability peeking through your mask.
âWhy do you keep doing this, James?â you asked, voice softer this time. âYou canât save me.â
âMaybe not,â he replied, frowning as his eyes looked down to the edge of your lips, âbut I can try.â
That night, he wondered just how long he could keep up this dance before one of you finally gave in.
â
One night, while you were on a caper in Prague, everything changed for the two of you.Â
The mission had been bloody, chaotic, and a little too close to mayhem for Buckyâs liking. You had taken down an entire network of arms dealers, setting fire to one of their last remaining munitions blocks and leaving it to burn.Â
Bucky had arrived too late, frantically trying to contain the chaos youâd left in your wake, alerting local authorities, making sure the flames didnât spread to a nearby market.
When he caught up to you, adrenaline ran hot through his veins.Â
He'd followed you through winding streets and up dark staircases, up to the hotel you were holed up in. He followed you into your room, locking you both in.
His voice was tight, anger simmering beneath. âYouâre careless.â His blue eyes were striking underneath the european moonlight, âyou couldâve taken out half the neighbourhood, and for what?â
âI got the job done, James.â You shrugged, trying to look unbothered. âItâs not pretty, but it works.â
He stepped closer, and you held his gaze, âYou know, Iâd turn you in if you werenât soâŠâ he paused, his voice faltering, as if the words were lodged in his throat, âWerenât soâŠâ
Your pulse quickened. âIf I werenât so what?â You snapped, daring him to finish, to admit what had been hanging between you two since the day you met.
But he didnât answer. Instead, he pulled you into a fierce, bruising kiss.
You didnât hesitateâyou kissed him back with just as much fire, your hands tangling in his hair.
Buckyâs hands found your waist, fingers digging in with enough pressure to leave marks. He pushed you back until your shoulders hit the wall, lips moving down your jaw, then hot against your neck. His breaths were ragged, matching your own, and he was holding you as if letting go would mean losing control entirely.Â
You couldnât help the gasp that escaped your lips as his mouth found a sensitive spot on the dip in your collarbone, his hands roaming possessively over your back, down your sides.
You pulled him back to your mouth, desperately needing that connection.Â
When you finally broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours. You untied your mask and threw it across the room.
Fuck. he thought as his eyes widened, taking in your full facial features for the first time. You were even more beautiful than I imagined you to be.Â
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought to himself, Iâm done for.
He was ready to throw you in jail cell. Instead, he ended up in your bed.
That night, in the dim light of your cheap hotel room, clothes were shed in hurried, frustrated movements, and all that pent-up tension finally found its release.
That first time had been desperate, raw. Both of you were driven by the need to let go, to feel something other than the weight of the cold blooded kills and the darkness you both carried.
Ever since then, every time you crossed paths, it was the same: adrenaline-fueled clashes and heated conversations about morality turned into hotel room rendezvous, hands grasping, lips colliding, both of you seeking the kind of solace you could only ever find in each other.Â
â
Youâd never admitted it out loud, but Bucky had an effect on you. When he was around, you found yourself hesitating just that split second longer before slicing your targetâs arteries and leaving them to bleed.
You didnât feel the need to wipe out every enemy anymore, and his disapproval of your methods had started haunting you in ways youâd never expected. Maybe that was why youâd started allowing him to find you more often, taking on jobs you knew heâd be there for.Â
It was a dangerous game, but you kept playing it. He was obsessed with finding you, and you werenât about to stop him.
Heâd learned to read you better, your patterns, the places you tended to show up. By the time you landed in some city on the opposite end of the globe, heâd be there like clockwork, showing up right before you finished a job, confronting you before you could disappear into the night.
But the nights you spent together were⊠different.Â
You never asked about each otherâs pasts; you kept it in the here and now, keeping him at a safe distance even as you let him pull you under the covers time and again.
Every time he asked your real name, youâd smile and brush him off, deflecting his curiosity with a kiss or a teasing answer. He didnât press, but you could see the questions in the way his brow furrowed, could feel the affection in the way he lingered in the mornings after, with a soft smile in his eyes that made your heart beat faster.
Each time, he told himself it was just catharsis, just a release of frustration for both of you, nothing more. But that excuse had worn thin over the years, and Bucky knew it as well as you did.Â
He knew it wasnât one sided either. He wasnât blind to the way youâd look at him as he drifted to sleep next to you. Once, he caught a flicker of something vulnerable in your eyes before you put the walls back up.Â
And God, was he drawn to you, to the side of you that fought so fiercely, that showed just enough vulnerability to keep him coming back. He was so fucking desperate to understand you better, to see more of the person underneath the mask.
â
One night, after a mission in Manila, youâd both ended up in a small, worn-down cheap hotel room overlooking the city lights. You were leaning against the headrest of the bed, a hint of sweat clinging to your skin, breathing still unsteady as you came down from the high you gave each other.
He watched you, his gaze lingering on the barely-perceptible rise and fall of your chest.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â you muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. There was a tremor in your tone, a flicker of something vulnerable that he wasnât sure you meant for him to hear.
âLike what?â he asked, nuzzling closer to you. His now long hair was tied back in a low bun, your hair tie holding it together because he didn't have one of his own.
âLike you want something from me that Iâm too broken to give,â you said, refusing to meet his eyes. But he reached for you, tipping your chin up until you had no choice but to look at him, and there it wasâthat flicker of affection he knew ran just as deep in you as it did in him.
âMaybe I want it anyway,â he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. âYou ever think of that?â
âThis is just a release, James.â Your gaze softened for just a second, long enough for him to catch it before you shook your head, pulling yourself from his grasp. âItâs just something we both need.â
Even as you said it, you weren't convinced. He reached for you again, pulling you close, and kissed you because that was the only thing youâd let him do.
You melted into him once more, you found yourself wondering just how much longer you could keep him at armâs length.
â
The shift in Buckyâs life had been as dramatic as it was unexpected. Youâd never pegged him for politicsâneither had he, to be fairâbut here he was, representing his district, looking sharp in a suit that cost more than the last few hotels youâd met in combined.Â
Heâs upgraded. Freshly elected, polished up, all suited and respectable as a congressman, fighting for reform from a marble office by day and for justice in dark alleys by night.Â
But tonight, with that half-smile he only gets with you, heâs still the sameâ still carrying that simmering tension in his lips, his hair tousled from a long night of pursuing you through the shadows.Â
After a mission that had you both knee-deep in an abandoned bunker hunting a rogue assassin, you found yourself together once again. Only this time, the hotel heâd booked was far from cheap.Â
He brought you to a five-star suite. The bed was massive, the sheets soft, and the view from the window sprawled out over the city skyline, a stark contrast to the dingy rooms youâd gotten used to.Â
Now, lying beside him in the rumpled silk sheets, you watched him catch his breath. You moved off of his lap to lay next to him, euphoric from the guilty pleasure you both indulged in.Â
âYou know, the second someone finds out Congressman Barnes has a relationship with a violent vigilante, youâre out of office.â
He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. âRelationship?â
Fuck. He caught you slipping up. He caught you thinking about a relationship with him.
âCasual sex is still a relationship, James.â You shrugged, trying to save face. You turned to him, with a lazy, unconvinced smile, âStrings attached or not, it counts.â
He shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching as he watched your wall break, even if only one brick at a time. âCasual,â His fingers traced idle patterns along your bare shoulder. âIs that what weâre calling it?â
âUnless youâre pretending you donât want it anymore.â You paused, leaning closer, âOr maybe you just like that I could ruin everything. That I could say one word to the press, post one picture online and your reputation is finished. Youâd be back to square one.â
He chuckled, his fingers grazing down your arm. It was terrifying, how comfortable heâd become with you. âI trust that you wouldnât,â he said softly, voice laced with that steady confidence, like he knows you better than you know yourself.
His declaration hung in the air, and you felt guilt striking in your chest.
This wasnât supposed to be part of this arrangement. Trust was for partners, for couples, for people who wanted things that lasted.Â
You shook it off, leaning back, a little smirk tugging at your lips as you lifted a brow. âYouâre right. I do have a soft spot for you, Congressman Barnes,â you added, the title rolling off your tongue with a touch of sarcasm, âConsider it my gift to democracy.â
He laughed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His hand drifted down to catch yours, holding it in a way that felt too natural, too comfortable for what you were supposed to be.Â
You both knew, despite the banter and the invisible boundaries, this thing between you was already past casual. It was the reason he keeps showing up where you showed up, the reason youâre letting him into your life in ways you never let anyone before. You were both just too stubborn to say it.
He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a way that feels almost⊠affectionate. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, forgetting the consequences, the danger, the fact that this man might just unravel you completely and you would have no say in it whatsoever.
When you pulled back, his fingers trailed over your bare waist. âMaybe itâs more than just a soft spot,â he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.
You raised an eyebrow, heart beating out of your chest. âLetâs not get sentimental, James,â you brushed, letting your fingers graze his jaw as you murmured, âYouâve got an image to protect, after all.â
He lets out a sigh thatâs part laughter, part frustration. He knew you were deflecting. âRight,â he said, brushing his lips against yours again.Â
âYou and your image,â you chuckled, âOut there, shaking hands and making speeches about justice while you sneak off to hotel rooms with someone like me.â
He grinned, not a trace of shame in his expression as he turned his gaze back to you. âSomeoneâs gotta keep you in line. Even if it takesâŠâ His voice lowered, dropping into that deep, teasing tone that made your stomach knot. ââŠa hands-on approach.â
You rolled your eyes. âYouâre the last person whoâd ever get me in line, James.â You leaned closer, though you didn't believe a single word you said.Â
There was a long silence for a while. He eventually reached out, brushing a lock of hair back from your face, his thumb tracing over your cheek.
âMaybe youâre right,â he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. âMaybe thatâs why I keep coming back.â
As the city lights cast a faint glow over the room, you lay there in silence, limbs tangled together in a way that felt a little less no strings attached every time.
â
The next time you meet, you were on a late-night operation on the dark outskirts of the city. Youâve tracked down a group of mercenaries. Theyâre as ruthless as they were careless, leaving a trail of devastation across the criminal underworld. But tonight, their recklessness will end with you.Â
You moved through in silence, precise, methodical. One by one, you took them down, not killing, but incapacitating them. Your fists were quick, your strikes precise. Itâs what youâve done for years, a grim pattern of efficiency that never required a second blow. Just as you reached the man who hired them with your knife drawnâa local crime lordâyou felt his presence before you saw him.
âThink twice, Sleeper,â Bucky said from behind you.
You froze, heart pounding as you stood over the crime lord begging for mercy. It would be so easy to end this now, but with Bucky watching, you hesitated.
You lowered the knife.
Instead of killing him, you tied him up alongside the other mercenaries, ignoring the questions in their fearful eyes. Bucky made a call, alerting local authorities to pick up the mess youâve left behind.
âWhat now?â you asked, walking away from the carnage. You were expecting the usual pattern: another hotel room, a brief reprieve from the violence, nothing more.Â
But he surprised you, lacing his hand in between your fingers, warm and secure.Â
He had never, ever, showed affection outside closed doors.
âCome with me.âÂ
â
You didnât expect Bucky to take you back to his place, but soon you were standing outside a sleek high-rise in the heart of the city. You followed him up to his penthouse apartment. Itâs almost disorientingâ the polished floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You found yourself standing in the quiet entryway of his home. The walls were painted in light, earthy tones, and the furniture was clean, modern, yet warm.
You glanced around, taking in the small details that hinted at Bucky's life beyond the missions. There were bookshelves lined with novels and memoirs, some old and looked like first editions, others barely touched. A few black-and-white photographs decorated the wallsâNew York City at dusk, a forest path, a beach sunset. It was an oddly peaceful place for a man like him. Certainly too peaceful for someone as broken as you.
âThis is risky, James,â you said, looking up at him as he closed the door behind him, âShowing me where you live.â
âNo, it's not,â he replied, his conviction absolute. âI trust you.â
There it was again. That word. Trust. The thing you never quite knew what to do with, especially coming from him.
You studied the way his favourite leather jacket was tossed on a chair, a half-read book by the couch. It felt like stepping across an invisible line. You set your mask down on the table before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.
âThis feels like crossing a boundary, James,â you admitted. You knew he should pull back, give you a chance to retreat. But you didn't want him to.
So he didnât.
Instead, he cupped your face as he tilted your chin up gently. âWhat boundary?â he asked.
He knew that there were nothing separating you two. Not anymore.
The space between you vanished as his lips met yours. You kissed him back, losing yourself in the process of tasting him. His hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Kissing him felt like fallingâ like surrender.
You made your way to his bedroom, bodies tangled together, a blur of heated whispers and gasping breaths. Clothes fell away, discarded like old skin. The way he looked at you, it was like he was memorising every inch of you.
In that moment, you realised: the boundary had never been there. Not for him. Maybe not for you either.
â
The room was quiet as you lay tangled up in Buckyâs sheets. The duvet smelled like him, unlike the neutral, sterile scent of the usual hotel sheets.Â
Youâd never admit it, but it was intoxicating.Â
The satisfied pulsing in your body had put a hazy filter over everything.Â
Bucky smiled softly, kissing your forehead before reaching to his bedside drawer, pulling out a small glass box, placing it gently on your palm.
"Here," he murmured, almost shyly. He opened the box to reveal a hair tie inside.Â
Oh. You recognised it. The ends were a bit frayed, the colour faded.
It was the hair tie youâd given him in Manila, a lifetime ago, a little piece of you that heâd tucked away in a corner of his home
You blinked, caught off guard. "You still have that?"
He shrugged, but his eyes wouldnât meet yours. Was he⊠embarrassed? "I thought it was... worth keeping."
"Careful, James,â you couldn't help but tease him, nuzzling closer into his arms. âKeep this up and you might just start falling in love with me."
You felt his breath hitch.
He looked up, finally. Nervously.
Instead of denying it, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, warm whisper. "Would that be so bad?"
His fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver through your spine. Your heart fluttered irregularly, your head spinning in a daze as you tried to keep your thoughts down.
No.
You couldnât let him see that he was getting to you like this, so you did what you always did: you deflected, grinning forcefully and rolling your eyes.
"Yeah, right," you said, brushing off the moment. As much as it broke your heart to deny the truth, you were doing it for his sake and yours. "I'm not that easy to love, James."
He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin as he pulled you closer, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Maybe that's why I do."Â
You shifted away from him, wrapping yourself in the sheets as if they could shield you from what he was offering â and from the ache in his gaze.Â
"We canâtâŠ" you said, voice barely above a whisper. "We canât do this."
Bucky's eyes darkened, but he would be alright. He expected this from you.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his desire for you and something else⊠there was something bigger.Â
"I need to tell you something," he said quietly. âI have⊠a team.â
That caught you off guard.Â
Bucky? On a team? Heâd always seemed like a lone wolf, just like you.Â
âThereâs a couple of former Widows, who youâd get along with. Two other super soldiers. And someone who can⊠phase. Quantum experiment gone wrong.â He paused, âWeâre trying to make something real here. And itâs missing someone.â His fingers trailed down your forearm, eventually clasping your palm in his, âItâs missing you.â
He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears, trailing your jawline delicately with his metal hand, âI need you.â
The invitation went unanswered for a moment. You swallowed, caught off-guard by how badly he seemed to want this, how he wanted you to be part of it.
âI work alone, James,â you said, brushing off the offer with a small, bitter smile. âYou know that.â
âBut why not?â His voice was barely more than a whisper. âWhy wonât you let someone else in for once?â
The frustration in his tone was raw, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of pain flash across his face from this rejection.
âThis is your chance to do something good the right way,â he pressed, and there was a quiet urgency in his voice. âNo more hunting down bad guys with no direction. No more living like youâve got nothing left to lose.â
His words sank in, and your walls felt shakier than ever. The idea of leaving the past behind, of actually building something⊠you hadnât let yourself imagine it in years.
âJust think about it,â he said softly, placing his forehead on yours. âYou don't have to decide now. Just⊠consider it.â
You gave a noncommittal shrug, but the truth was that his offer echoed in your mind, louder than you wanted to admit. He smiled at your dismissiveness, recognizing the crack in your armour. He didnât push further.Â
You realised that for the first time in a long time, you werenât entirely sure if you wanted to say no.
â
The next time you saw Bucky was in the middle of a mission neither of you had wanted.Â
Just a week had passed since youâd spent the night in his apartment. Since then, you had told yourself you shouldnât return. You couldnât. You were getting too close, feeling too much.
It was getting dangerous.
But then Bucky had reached out to you, voice tight and desperate, the kind of desperation that stripped away all his pride. It was a vulnerability even you hadn't seen from him before. His team was in over their heads, heâd said. He needed you.Â
Youâd agreed to help, but youâd been careful to remind him that this was a one-time thing. One mission, and that was it.
But then everything went wrong.
It happened so fast, you barely understood how everything had gone wrong.Â
You were with Bucky, fighting side-by-side, the two of you moving as if connected by some invisible thread.Â
You had taken a blow, separating you from everyone else. You tried standing up but fuck! The impact had shattered your ankle, sending a searing pain through your leg. Your nerves were on fire in a way they had never been before.
You couldn't move.Â
You couldn't get up. Couldnât run.
And then the ground shifted, an explosion roared from behind, and the next thing you knew, a van was thrown across the road, hurtling straight toward you.
For a single, frozen heartbeat, you realised this was it.Â
It was over.
You saw the faces of bystanders staring from the sidewalk, their eyes wide, too horrified to look away. You let go of the cold steel of your knife still gripped in your hand. The acrid taste of smoke on your tongue intensified. And the truckâa wall of twisted metal hurtling closer, closer, impossibly fast.
Youâd spent so many years brushing so close to death that you always thought youâd be ready.
But now, all you felt was regret.
Regret that this was how youâd die: in the middle of a cold, empty street, surrounded by strangers who would never remember you, never know who you were or what youâd done.Â
Alone.Â
You thought of Bucky in those last secondsâhis quiet smiles, the way heâd look at you like he could see through every wall you put up, the silent crutch heâd offered without expecting anything in return. Bucky, whoâd trusted you, whoâd somehow cared for you even after everything youâd done.Â
For the first time, you felt regret for every life youâd taken, every person youâd left to die in your wake.
Your life had been nothing but survival and bloodshed. You had told yourself it was necessary, that it was the only way. But here, now, with your own death inches away, it all felt hollow.
Youâd given up hope, abandoned the idea of redemption long agoâbecause you were too broken.
And yet, with Bucky, something had changed. He had looked at you and somehow seen past it all. Heâd made you feel as if maybe, just maybe, you were something more than the ghost youâd become. Maybe, instead of running, you could have found a way to fight for something real, something that mattered.Â
Maybe you could have been someone better.Â
You would never know now.
The world narrowed, and you braced yourself for the inevitable, hoping it would be quick and painless. Your fingers tightened, clinging to the memory of him in those last, precious seconds as you waited to feel the impactâ
But it never came.
Instead, there was a rush of air, a deafening crash, and thenâsilence. You blinked, dazed, your heart still hammering, and when you looked up, Bucky was standing there, his metal arm outstretched, braced against the van that heâd deflected away.
He turned to face you, his expression raw, worry carved deep into his features as he scanned you, checking for injuries. For a moment, he just stared, his breathing uneven, as if heâd been the one facing certain death.
âAre you okay?â he asked, his voice panicked.
You tried to answer, but the words tangled, caught in your throat. You managed a nod, barely able to process what had just happened.Â
âShit,â he kneeled next to you, âIs your ankle broken, can you walk?â
You stared at him, trembling as he tore a part of his shirt and wrapped it around your injury for support.
Bucky had saved you. He had thrown himself in front of a hurtling vehicle without a moment of hesitation, as if your life were worth that sacrifice.Â
He had saved you.
You were alive because of him.
Alive, when youâd already accepted that you were going to die alone.
No one had ever done that for you. No one had ever saved youânot like this, not without asking anything in return. Hell, you never thought that you deserved to be saved.
âYouâre okay, Sleeper,â he said, his voice softer now, like he was reassuring himself as much as you. âIâm here.â
His words settled into the cracks that had broken open inside you, filling them in ways you hadnât thought possible. You hadnât realised how empty youâd felt until now, how long youâd carried the weight of loneliness, of believing that this lifeâthis endless, solitary fightâwas all you deserved.Â
Bucky made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you didnât have to be alone. That maybe, even after all youâd done, there was a place for you outside the shadows.
âDonât call me that,â your voice trembled, âI donât want you to call me Sleeper anymore.â
Bucky stopped for a second, confused. âWhat do you want me to call you, then?â
You couldnât hold it back anymore. Something inside you broke, raw and vulnerable, and the name youâd hidden for years slipped from your lips before you even realised it. Your real nameâyour last, fragile piece of self youâd kept locked away, hoping one day youâd be able to reclaim it.Â
It felt right with Bucky, like you could trust him with it, like you could let yourself be seen.
Buckyâs eyes widened, his face softening as he repeated it, almost reverent, like he wanted to remember how it felt to say it.Â
Hearing him say your name, like a prayer, like it was sacred, like it matteredâ tore down whatever walls you had left. Heâd given you something you didnât know you could have: the feeling of belonging to yourself again. The feeling of belonging to the world again.
Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers shaking. He moved, pulling you closer. His touch was grounding, steadyâa lifeline that anchored you to the moment, to this fragile reality where you didnât have to be alone anymore.Â
You pressed your lips to his, but this kiss was differentâ it wasn't casual or sexual as it has always been. This time, it was gentle, carrying something other than desire, something precious and fragile.Â
Something worth nurturing.
When you finally pulled away, he looked at you lovingly.Â
âIâll join you,â you said, the words coming from some deep part of you that had been waiting for someone to give you this chance, this choice.
Now you realised that this choice was yours all along. All you had to do was take it.
And you did, because maybe, instead of running from yourself, you could find a way to make things right. Maybe you could fight for something greater than yourself.
For the first time, wrapped in Buckyâs embrace, you believed that maybe you could be someone worth saving.
â
A month later, you were all gathered around a small campfire, tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere.Â
The night was cool, the fire warm, and laughter bubbled up from the group as you shared bits and pieces of each other's lives.Â
âTeam bonding,â John had said.
John passed around a nearly empty bag of marshmallows, Alexei poked at the fire, and Yelena and Ava exchanged eye rolls at everyone elseâs antics, though they leaned closer together under the same blanket.
Eventually, the conversation drifted, as it often did, to you and Bucky.Â
âSo⊠how did the Winter Soldier and Sleeper even meet?â Yelena asked, raising an eyebrow as she threw another marshmallow into her mouth.Â
The moniker you had adopted still twisted in your stomach every time you heard it, but it had lost its edge. This time, you felt in control. Like you owned it.
"I have theories,â Alexei nodded, crossing his arms, âbut I have to know."
You shared a look with Bucky, a small smile creeping on both your faces. âThere was a Hydra agent we were both after.â you began, biting back a frown. âAnd⊠well, I was angrier back then.âÂ
He placed his arm on yours, a comforting gesture.
âYou wanted him alive,â you said. âI had⊠different ideas.â
âAfter thatââ Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders. ââShe was all I could think about. I kept showing up wherever she was, trying to figure her out.âÂ
âSo basically,â John said, trying to hold back a laugh, âBucky is a bit of a stalker.â
âA stalker?â Bucky echoed incredulously, âI think the word youâre looking for is âdedicated.ââÂ
âNo, no,â Ava interjected, âyou followed her everywhere did you not? âStalkerâ is the right word, Barnes.â
âFine,â he admitted jokingly, âBut what can I say? It was love at first sight.âÂ
Yelena gagged theatrically and John clutched his stomach in a fit of laughter.
Alexei just chuckled and muttered something about âAmerican romance.â Ava made a face, disgusted but secretly amused.
You couldnât help but laugh along with them, leaning against Buckyâs shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you with a quiet smile.
In some way, this still felt too good to be real.
For the first time, you realized youâd found exactly what youâd been missing all along. A home. Maybe even the closest thing youâve ever had to a family.
A place where you belonged.
And you knew, looking at all of themâespecially at Buckyâthat this was just the beginning.
-end
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my palms ran red turning over jagged rocks, thought i'd find some kind of sign; you pressed your mouth to my wound, weren't your bloody lips sign enough?
qh43 x reader: you really have to stop meeting like this.
(warnings: mostly plot, but also blasphemous filth (yes, we're back on the smut train), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (i haven't changed), choking (i really haven't changed), descriptions of self-doubt and shame and all my typical stuff. mostly tension building (10k words worth), general debauchery.  please be warned, donât read if youâre not 100% sure.)
(a/n: oh my god, favorites. i hadn't read this one in so long, so thank you for allowing me an avenue to rediscover it. i'm so happy you're getting to rediscover it now, too. if you want a song to listen to that i think goes with this story really well, give BONES! by girly teeth club a try :) i do genuinely believe that this story was a real turning point for me, and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that (i had the line then who was i praying to? well, who answered? taped to my computer for a long, long time. personal favorite of mine). i hope you enjoy this one again, and also hello to the followers and readers who have no idea what i'm talking about when i bitch and moan about my old account. i see you, and i love you, and i'm so eager to hear what you think. enjoy mechanic qh43 and all of the mythical divine powers that he inspires within me. to the seven people who care, more ol and rus coming momentarily. sunday is now my designated tumblr day, so if you want to chat, sunday is your best bet. i love you and your snakes! be kind to yourself).
like most all-consuming things, it started with something insignificant.
if your tail light had never gone out during the summer before your third year at university, perhaps none of it would have ever happened. part of you wanted to believe that some determined power would have guided the two of you together no matter what, but most of you thought the powers of the world to be nonchalant at best, hostile at worst.
regardless, your right tail light went out a few weeks before school started, and despite your intense unwillingness to spend money on your car, your mom insisted that you get it fixed.
"that family auto shop will do it quickly," she suggested, "the one a few streets down from school."
so here you were, standing uncomfortably in the lobby of the mechanic's, less than soothed by the harsh noises that echoed through the small garage.
you cleared your throat, attempting to get the attention of the teenage receptionist, probably the daughter or cousin of the owner, currently on her phone.
she looked up immediately, smiled wide, full of braces and friendliness. "sorry," she said, only a little guilty to be caught on her phone. "how can i help you?"
you smiled right back at her, immediately put at ease by her presence. "my mom called earlier," you said. you went to continue, but were enthusiastically cut off.
"miss tail light!" she exclaimed, to which you laughed and nodded. "have a seat," she urged, "quinn should be out in a minute, and that's a quick fix."
you nodded and sat down, then crossed your legs as you waited, bouncing one foot against your other calf. you looked at your hands, twisted one ring around your finger.
"you're the tail light?" a low voice called from the lobby entrance, forcing your gaze up from your hands to meet a pair of eyes that somehow swam with both steel and uncertainty.
this newcomer, quinn, supposedly, confirmed by the embroidered patch on his breast pocket, seemed to be immediately off-put by your matching gaze, as he shoved his wide hands in the pockets of his coveralls and blinked several times, a bit too fast.
his confusing mannerisms, combined with his curious combination of handsomeness and beauty, forced a small smile to your face as you stood up.
he really was pretty like you had never quite seen before, tall but not menacingly so, broad across the chest in a way that just looked warm, his coveralls hanging off of him, drawing attention to his frame, his thighs, his arms.
his hair was messy, curling only slightly at the tops of his ears, his cheekbones and jawline so, so sharp, but his nose and mouth softly curved.
you cleared your throat again when you realized you were probably staring.
"i suppose i am," you said, answering his question, approaching him and the door, by extension.
he gave a forced nod before turning to leave, urging a fluid reaction from the muscles in his neck and shoulders, which you pretended not to notice as you walked behind him.
in a choppy, sudden motion, he made to hold the door open for you, arm extended but gaze averted.
"thank you, quinn," you said, trying out his name, surprised to find how natural it felt on your tongue, something like a hymn a past-life you must have sang with unmatched conviction.
he seemed just as surprised as you, practically tripped over his own feet before quickly recovering. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.
"should only take a second," he said as he crouched down next to your car, his voice a bit rougher than before, pulling a couple of tools and bulbs from his many pockets.
"take your time," you said, sitting down nearby as he got to work, and you meant it, feeling a somewhat shameful urge to just watch him. just look at him.
you fumbled to distract yourself, settling on looking interested in your phone. in reality, it took real effort to keep your eyes down, away from him, when you felt as if he emitted some kind of magnetic force suited only to you.
it felt like an eternity, but it took all of ten minutes, a couple swift motions, and he was done, rising again to his full height and turning to face you.
you allowed yourself to meet his eyes and it felt like a heaving exhale. "all done?" you asked, rising as well, willing brightness into your voice.
he nodded in affirmation, and you could have pouted. a man of few words, it seemed, and how you wished he would give you a few more.
he wiped his hands with a rag, and you refused to let your eyes follow the motion. "so i should pay..." you started.
he nodded towards the lobby. "you can pay with bean," he said, gruff.
you grinned right at him, and anyone else would have seen his gaze soften from stone to molten rock. "bean?" you asked.
the slightest smile took over his mouth. "my cousin," he said, slowly, "at reception."
you hummed, comforted by his sudden ease. "well then," you said, "i'll go check out with your cousin bean."
"i'll walk you," he blurted out, a blush coming to tint the tops of his ears in a positively dreamy sort of way.
so you walked the several steps back to the lobby together, the silence so comfortable you could have sighed, fallen asleep wrapped up in it.
already you felt some sense of loss creeping in, knowing you were probably never going to see him again, knowing this was all you were going to get. just a couple of glances and words and blushes, that's as far as this would go. and it made a lot of sense, but logical reason grew over your hazy, momentary crush like ivy on a brick building.
he held the door open for you again, and as you walked past him this time you looked up into his eyes. stone and steel and ivy.
you thanked him again.
"quinn?" came that delightfully girlish voice from behind the desk, this time intensely confused. "what are you doing?"
he stood in the door frame, his swallow almost cartoonish. "just making sure she checks out okay," he mumbled, not quite looking anyone in the face.
the girl smiled so wide, you could see she had chosen to make her braces purple last time she visited the orthodontist. "you've never done that before, is all," she observed with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption.
was that pink tint creeping past his ears to his neck, now?
"do it plenty," he muttered, less than convincing and more to himself than anyone else.
the girl shot you a knowing look before turning to her cousin again. "if you say so," she relented. "miss tail light is in good hands with me, now, so you're all set, mr. random acts of kindness."
quinn muttered something under his breath before making to leave, embarrassment still flushing just under his collar.
the knowledge that this was it, this was all this would ever be, that's what made you reach a hand out to lightly grasp his forearm, stopping him where he stood.
you swore some kind of divine warmth rose to meet your hand.
he looked down at where your fingers met his arm before meeting your gaze. molten, yet again. he didn't move, didn't dare to scare off your touch.
"thank you again, quinn," you said, just to him.
a pause charged by meaning sparked between you both.
maybe some minuscule fraction of your heart feared he would push you away and roll his eyes, mumble something about personal space. or maybe that disgust would flood his lovely gaze, and he would say something much meaner.
you should never have touched him, you scolded yourself, stupid, desperate, foolish girl. you began to lift your hand away when his rough voice became a whisper, just for you.
"anything, doll," he said. and then he walked away, leaving his words to rattle around in your head like the whirring noises around the garage.
you paid, laughed playfully with the young receptionist as she insisted she had never seen her cousin so embarrassed, and especially not so bashful.
"i'm sure that's not true," you said, trying in vain to force your sky-rocketing hopes back to earth.
"oh, it is," she said as you made to leave, giving you a big smile and a wave as you bid her goodbye.
as you drove back home, those tendrils of reason crept back again, began to suffocate the dreamy romance that had settled like a glittery mist in your head.
you gave a single exhale, breathing out any unrealistic expectations. you'd probably never see him again, you admitted to yourself, and you tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.
and so you let the image of steel and stone and ivy become a phantom in the back of your mind, along with the scorching solidity of his forearm underneath your delicate palm.
you'd never see him again, you believed.
in theory, you knew you could have had one of your friends find him on social media, it probably wouldn't have been too hard. a first name, an occupation, they'd tracked down fleeting flings and past crushes with much less information to go off of before.
but you didn't like the idea of interference, much preferred the way he looked in your memory to the fear that he would be someone very different online, that he would be someone different than the person that now existed exclusively in your head.
you were never supposed to see him again, and yet you did, and just as you had almost forgotten the way his shoulders moved when he walked, too.
three weeks later, just before you went back to school, you were eating dinner outside with your family at the country club they belonged to. you had been there maybe twice in the last couple of years, as your mom worked long hours and your dad only really used his membership for golf.
now, though, sitting outside, overlooking the course, in the pleasant air of the late summer, you were glad you were here, enjoying these last few moments with your family before you began your third year.
you were laughing at a joke your mom had made when you heard someone close by call out, "that's my marker, quinn!"
something distant fluttered in your stomach as you registered the name, tried so hard to not care if it was him or not. trying so, so hard to not care, but you cared so much it felt as if you might have willed him into existence yourself, wanted him enough that even the uninterested powers were forced to relent with a bored sigh.
so, in truth, you knew it was him even before you turned and focused on the hole just below the patio.
you knew it was him, and yet you were wholly unprepared for the way your head spun when you registered his familiar figure.
as if compelled by your gaze, or by something else worth worshipping, he turned, too, and there you were, staring at each other. did he recognize you the way you did him? the way you recognize your first lover's cologne? the way you recognize what's waiting behind a door with a scalding doorknob?
but then he took a hand off of his club and gave a timid wave, and you felt your body relax as you waved back. he paused for a moment as if in thought, then motioned towards him, silently asking you to come down.
"who is that?" your mother asked, not critical, only curious.
"my mechanic," you answered, "be right back, promise."
so, even though it was probably (definitely) against the rules, you made your way down to the impeccably cut grass, holding your shoes in one shaky hand.
you waved again as you approached him at the edge of the green, his friends gathered closer to the hole, talking animatedly amongst themselves.
he tilted his head and gave you a small smile, which gave you wings. a smile, and you hadn't even done anything!
"hi, quinn," you said, getting your first good look at him up close, and this time not in coveralls. this time in a polo that brought out his eyes and shorts that had you straining not to stare at his thighs.
"doll," he greeted, that ghost of a smile still on his full lips. "thought that was you."
heavy uncertainty suddenly settled between the both of you. what were you supposed to say? what was he supposed to say? what do you do with time that feels stolen?
"didn't think i'd see you again," you landed on, then physically cringed at yourself. "not that i was thinking about you, or anything," you added, then pursed your lips in a line.
awesome save.
he let out a laugh, though, and it shook his shoulders and lit up his face in a way that made it impossible to regret your rambling.
his laugh made him look human in a way he hadn't really, before, at the garage. it stripped back all the flowery expectations your imagination had buried him in and set him down here, in front of you, a real person.
a real person, who, in this summery light, was much more unabashed and generous with his smiles. his eyes had a softness to them that you hadn't noticed before.
"i wish you had, then," he said, in that deep, low, voice with a confidence that didn't quite suit him, like he was just trying it on.
it almost made you drop your shoes, regardless.
"yeah?" you asked, tilting your head and letting your satisfaction drench your face like sunset light.
he gave a little nod.
"c'mon, huggy!" one of his friends called. what do you do with time that feels stolen?
he looked back at them and his jaw clenched, for a second.
you knew you had to be the one to walk away, or it would haunt you like some ancestral debt.
"maybe i'll see you again, then, quinn," you said, your tone not conveying the desperate hope you felt.
he looked you up and down, amusement alight in his eyes. it seemed his nervous demeanor existed only in his coveralls. "you willing to take your chances on a 'maybe,' doll?"
were you?
you silently begged those distant forces to prove your hopes were not futile, but you didn't really believe that. you were headed to school in just two days, and who knows where he was headed, this mysterious mechanic who liked to golf and had eyes like a deity.
you knew you were on stolen time, and that this, again, was as far as this would ever go.
"we're going!" his friends called.
"i hope i see you again, quinn," you amended, already feeling a sense of loss again. but you had to be the one to walk away, so you began to.
his face was unreadable, some mixture of disappointment and interest and knowing.
"think about me some more this time, yeah? until you see me again?"
your smile glowed. "if 'm honest, quinn, that'll be hard," you said, thinking about how he had been a constant in your mind for the last couple of weeks. you leaned into your flirtatious side since you were both moving apart. it was always easiest when you were on the way out.
he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "try extra hard for me, would you, doll?"
and for a moment, time seemed to ooze like amber. a blink felt like eternity, like you were both suspended in an hourglass.
"promise," you said. it came out like a whisper, but it felt like you screamed it across an open expanse.
and so you parted ways a second time, practically daring the universe to stop you from meeting again.
do whatever you want, universe, you seemed to say, i don't care! i'm fine with the story ending here!
oh, sweetheart, the universe seemed to say, yawning, barely looking at you, then why do you clutch at the book until your fingers bleed?
you could have scowled.
and, just as he wanted, and just as you were afraid of, he was there, in the back of your mind, for several weeks into the school year.
everything started smoothly. you were happy to see your friends again, to be living with them. classes started well. you went out when you wanted to. you began your regular job, tutoring other students in classes you had already taken. it was nice to see the students you had helped out last year, to continue helping them.
teachers referred you to help students who were struggling in their classes all the time, so it wasn't anything significant when one set up a time for you to meet at the library with someone who wasn't quite getting intro to calculus.
it was significant, however, when you opened up the reserved study room door to see quinn sitting at the table, textbooks out in front of him.
so significant, actually, that it genuinely scared you. "jesus," you muttered, exhaling and placing a calming hand over your heart.
he looked up when he heard the door open, and you were frozen in place.
this is what you wanted, right? the universe probably asked, bored. now will you leave me alone?
"i was not expecting you," you admitted, willing your heart back to beating normally.
you couldn't read him, yet again. and yet again, you felt as if you had wanted him hard enough that even the fibers of the universe were annoyed enough to comply.
ugh, they probably said to each other, just give that desperate fool what she wants! i'm tired of hearing her pleas!
but you could have sighed at how beautiful he looked, this time different again - sweatpants and a t-shirt and messy hair. soft looking and sleepy after a day of class and whatever else.
"yeah?" he asked, although he hadn't expected you either. he wasn't shocked the way you were, though. only pleasantness played across his full features. "who were you expecting?"
not you, you wanted to say. things just don't work out like this for me. "i didn't know you went here," you said, simply.
"i didn't know you were a tutor," he replied, leaning back in his chair.
i didn't know your smile gets lopsided when you're tired, you thought to yourself. you could never forget that, now.
"safe to say we know very little about each other, doll," he added, as if he could hear your thoughts.
and he was right - you hadn't asked him anything about himself the last two times you saw him, and he didn't know anything about you. how easy would it have been at the course to say you were going to the local university in a couple of days. why had you not?
why had you relinquished control so easily?
it practically pained you to think about that, just as it was practically painful to look at his face head on, eyes weary with sleep yet bright with amusement, so you decided to solve both of those problems.
"well," you said, sliding into the seat next to him at the table, excruciatingly aware of your closeness, "what do you know about derivatives?"
he gave a huff of a laugh. "probably even less," he said.
you gave him a smile and started to go over your notes with him. the more you spoke, and the deeper you got into the topic, the easier it was to be close to him.
you were still hyperaware of his warmth, his presence, his beauty, his being, but you could do this. getting lost in your purpose here instead of getting lost in him.
after about an hour of you explaining derivatives, you looking at your notes, and him looking at you, you shut your textbook.
"i think that's good for a first session, hm?" you asked, turning to face him and hugging one knee to your chest.
he held your gaze as if studying your face. it felt like being center stage, under a white hot spotlight.
he spread his legs out and reached his arms up, stretching after sitting in the same position for a while. you had to look down at your hands.
"five more minutes?" he asked like a kid begging for an extended bedtime. only now he was asking for more time with you.
you scrunched up your nose, which made him smile, a bit. "can i ask you a question, quinn?" you asked. "since we don't know anything about each other."
"only if i get one, too," he answered.
you thought carefully, flexed your hand on your knee as your gaze met his sleepy one. "it's not that late," you started, "why are you so tired?"
he laughed again, making your chest sing. "busy day," he answered, "had two classes, practice, and a lift."
and as he elaborated you added to the carefully protected vault in your mind of information you knew about him. he played hockey for the team here, he was a defensemen, he was always busy.
"my turn," he said after he was done, low like a secret.
you nodded, forced away the flush his tone alone was able to pull from you.
"did you keep your promise?" he asked.
of everything he could have said, you were least expecting that. of course you knew what promise he was referring to immediately. of course it felt like something abominable to tell him the truth.
suddenly the space between the two of you felt much too little, much too dangerous. so small that you could see each of his eyelashes, he could see the way your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second.
there was something in his eyes that surprised you, though. there was a trace of those nerves you had seen in him that first day - that instability and uncertainty. he wanted you to say yes, you realized. he wanted it so, so much.
"of course i did, quinn," you soothed, leaning forward onto your knee just a bit. it was always easiest on the way out. "did you have any doubts?"
did he let out a breath? his silence spoke for him. still, you had to be the one to walk away. you couldn't afford any more ghosts.
"same time next week?" you asked, gathering your things.
"not gonna leave it to chance this time, doll?" he asked, getting his things together too, but in a lazy sort of way. his hands moved slowly, reluctantly.
you tried not to stare at them.
you gave him a last look before you left.
"do you want to leave it to chance?" you asked, genuinely.
ugh, chance seemed to say, can't you just do it yourself?
his molten gaze dripped over you like honey. "no," he decided, "no, i wouldn't say that's at the top of my wishlist."
you didn't ask what was.
so, each tuesday night, you tutored him in calculus. and each tuesday night, you learned more about him, and he learned more about you.
you learned about how he got into auto mechanics (he never grew out of his childhood truck phase), why he liked golf (really just an excuse to talk with his friends for a couple of hours), what was so special about hockey (it felt like he could see things that others just couldn't). his favorite candy (sour skittles), his favorite color gatorade (red), his favorite t-shirt (a worn in concert shirt from high school).
but you also learned that he got shy when you complimented him, that he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek when he was about to say something that made you blush, that he got more confident as he got to know you.
his nerves only came out when he grew unsure, and you did your best to make him so, so sure.
and he did get to know you. how you got into your major (data analysis was the family business), why you applied yourself so vigorously in your classes (you didn't know any other way), all about your close friends and family. your favorite soda (cherry coke zero), your favorite frat (pike, only because a couple of your friends were dating brothers there, and they had the goofiest themes), your favorite snack (pretzel goldfish).
he was nothing if not observant, too, so he noticed that you had a special smile for when he got a question right, and that you only wore your hair up when you were extra tired, and that, towards the end of the session, when you were caught off guard, you would lean a little closer to him without realizing.
that was his favorite. when you would lean into his space, just a little more, as if you were pulled towards him by a magnetic force.
and each session, you made him a little more confident, and he made you blush a little bit more. until you both felt utterly comfortable with each other, like you had known each other for ages.
well, as comfortable as you could feel with a person who made you feel like every inch of your skin was on fire. as comfortable as you could feel with someone whose voice made your throat go dry, whose hands made you stutter, whose mannerisms made your stomach flutter.
one tuesday night, late into a session where he had told you he had passed his quiz with flying colors, he twisted his pen in his hand.
"you know, doll," he started, "you should come to a game sometime."
you looked up. "one of your games?" you asked, searching his steely eyes for meaning.
his lip quirked. "yes, one of my games."
here, he might as well have said, have a little more of me.
"unless you don't want to," he added to your silence. "which would also be fine. i don't want to force-"
you stopped him with a hand on his forearm, transporting you both back to that first day. did you imagine him relaxing into your touch, this time?
"i'd love to come," you said, looking him square in the face.
"good," he replied, content.
but nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you that friday night, standing with your friends in the student section of the rink you had never been to.
"how have we never been to a hockey game?" one of them asked, looking around at the crowd.
"basketball's just better," another said, although, to be fair, she was on the club basketball team. "what the hell is icing, anyways?"
"we never had a reason to, i guess," your best friend said in a teasing tone. you shot her a look, to which she raised her hands in surrender. "hey, no judgement," she said, and you laughed.
as soon as quinn was on the ice, though, he had your complete and undivided attention. he skated with a mesmerizing fluidity, hit with a concrete, undeniable kind of force. and he was right - he did see things no one else could see, made connections that you, nor anyone on the ice, could predict until they were already completed.
he was all over the ice, all over this space, he was everywhere. and you were transfixed.
walking back to the house with your friends, they noticed. of course they did.
"oh god, i know that look," one said.
"this is gonna be trouble," another added. was this trouble? was trouble when everything someone did felt like some great treasure you had discovered? was trouble this kind of fire, of comfort, of excitement, of rest?
you shook your head. "calm down, guys," you said. "it's not that serious."
"right," someone said. you didn't believe yourself, either.
"what did you think of the game?" he asked the following tuesday after you had covered enough material to be satisfied.
you were so close to him now, it probably would have been easier to just share a chair. so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could all but feel his chest against your back.
"what did i think of the game?" you repeated lazily.
you could hear his smile in his voice. "yes, doll."
you hummed. how honest could you be, here? what could you get away with?
and maybe it was your closeness to him that made you bold. maybe it was the heat you saw in his eyes that had you leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. you felt his breath rumble through him and into you.
the air sparked.
"thought you were incredible, quinn," you said honestly. "like nothing i've ever seen."
his exhale was shaky as he peered down at you. "yeah?" he asked.
"mhm," you hummed, your body buzzing with his contact, the most you had ever had. something unspoken settled between you like dust.
"you would come again, then?" he asked, hopeful but drowsy.
you couldn't help but smile, a bit, gaze up at him through your lashes. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you, if 'm honest."
something like wonder misted across his heated gaze. "i like knowing you're there," he said. "like knowing you're thinking about me."
dangerous desire swirled around the two of you, melting your gaze and blurring the lines.
things don't work out like this for you, a voice said, bitter and mocking, drawing the lines up again, sturdy and menacing.
you cleared your throat, lifted your head from his shoulder. if you could look at him, you would have seen that uncertainty swimming in his eyes again, along with something like hurt.
but you couldn't look at him. at the drowsy slouch of his shoulders, the rugged line of his jaw, the glossy want that practically dripped down his face like starry tears.
i'm always thinking about you, you wanted to tell him. i'm sorry.
but you gathered your things, stood up. "i should go."
he was silent for a moment, looked you up and down, gave a small sigh. "okay, doll," he conceded. "on one condition."
you scrunched up your nose in confusion.
"you agree to come golfing with me tomorrow," he said in a completely satisfied tone. "then, you can go."
a million excuses flooded onto your tongue.
"i'm busy tomorrow," you tried, your voice coming out tight.
he waved that off lazily. "me too," he said, something like a smirk growing on his pink lips. "but we're both free at four, so let's plan on that. next?"
you sputtered.
"but i don't know how to golf," you tried.
he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. trouble.
"don't worry, doll," he offered. "i'll go real slow for you."
you flushed, almost walked into the doorframe, quickly decided you needed to leave immediately, if you wanted to maintain any level of mystery or dignity.
"fine," you said, already on your way out. it felt like flames were nipping at your heels, biting at your nose. "i'll come."
his smirk deepened, a different look on him. "don't put up much of a fight, do you, doll?"
"i'm leaving," you choked as you walked out, turning to face him one final time. "what if i just didn't want to come?"
he seemed to ponder this for a moment. "i think," he started, "if you really didn't want to come, it wouldn't make you blush like this to say so."
he didn't ask you to think about him, but by the look on his face, you knew he could tell he didn't have to.
so, the following day, you found yourself on the course with quinn.
a terrible, terrible idea, really.
especially considering the want that filled his gaze when he first saw you, catching on your legs before returning up to your eyes.
"showed up for me, did you, doll?" he asked, a hope you recognized tinting his voice a shimmery pink.
you rolled your eyes, but smiled. "you knew i would."
"thank you anyways," he replied, and his genuineness, his honesty, his straightforwardness, it all made you melt. made you want to know what his smile felt like against your neck, what his hands felt like in your hair.
so, as you both made to tee off, you turned to him. "can you help me with my swing, please?"
his gaze softened. liquid steel. "sure, doll," he said, then lined up next to you and explained his way through it.
you bit your lip. "i'm a hands on learner," you said, which was a lie. "i think i need you closer." that part wasn't.
he didn't adopt a cocky smirk, like so many would have. he didn't lean into your act, didn't pounce on the opportunity to show his superiority. he only approached you from behind and reached his arms around you to grip your driver with you, his hands on top of yours, warm and rough.
you could feel each breath he took in your back, felt the solid plane of his chest on your shoulder blades.
"close enough?" he all but whispered into the space between your neck and your shoulder.
something sinful must have possessed you then. "for now," you breathed out.
he went through a swing with you, slow and fluid. you weren't paying attention, not really, but how could you, when he was just so, so close? was this dazed sensation, was that what he felt when you touched him, that first day? or later, in your study room?
but, of course, the swing was soon over, and he reluctantly retreated off to the side.
"your turn, doll," he said.
you took a breath to shake the phantom of his embrace away, then teed off - beautifully straight and hard, arcing through the air like a physics textbook problem.
you looked at him to find a knowing, teasing look on his face. he ran a hand through his hair, displacing the curling ends as he gave a quick laugh.
you smiled. "call me a natural," you offered, shrugging.
"oh yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "how about i call you a liar?"
you leaned forward onto the end of your driver, grin widening. "how about i call you gullible?"
he shook his head, let out a playful scoff. "like you'd ever have to trick me into touching you."
the rest of the round went by quickly, both of your guards down, lost in conversation and high on each other. too soon, it was over.
it was this realization that urged you to act uncharacteristically - in that, you acted according to what you truly felt.
"can i see you tomorrow?" you asked him as he loaded your clubs into the trunk of your car. you didn't cringe as much as you would have a few weeks ago.
he wiped his hands on his shorts, looked at you with something that looked like relief. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you," he parroted. his ability to remember things about you warmed you from the inside out.
"meet me at the sig nu party tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. "maybe you can meet some of my friends?"
he looked truly touched. "some of the guys are going already since we don't have a morning lift on friday," he said, "so you could meet some of them, too, if you want."
you nodded, flushed with expectation. "see you then," you said, making to get in your car. "and yes, i'll think about you."
his smile as you shut your door was something of dreams.
sigma nu was not one of your favorite frats. their basement was especially dirty looking, their brothers were on the sketchier side, and the never seemed to have enough alcohol to make it through the night.
but one of your friends was talking to one of the brothers, who also played club basketball. so you and the rest of your group were going for moral support. and also because no one else was throwing. it was only a thursday.
you were nervous. you had only just begun to accept that you were really, really into quinn, and you had only just begun to accept that he might, possibly, probably, be just as into you.
it still didn't make much logical sense to you. when had it ever been so simple?
don't talk about logical sense around me, chance would say, that bitch knows what she did.
when you first saw quinn across the crowded room, chance and logical sense and all those divine powers, they all melted away.
it was just him. his hair was messy and his gaze was relaxed and the lights made it look like his face was glowing as he laughed with his friends.
but the crowd got the better of you, for a little while. you danced with your friends, politely escaped several "so, what's your major?" conversations, and actually spent a while talking to your friend's new talking stage.
as you laughed at something, you were internally surprised. this guy seemed perfect for your friend - they shared so many interests, and he was able to laugh at himself easily, which was something that was at the top of her priority list.
after a while of learning enough about him to approve of him graduating from the talking stage, you looked up. of course your gaze was immediately drawn to quinn, closer than you had seen him last.
closer, and yet farther than he had ever been, because he was leaning against the wall, talking to another girl.
you couldn't really see the girl, but it wouldn't have really mattered. it wasn't about her. she was just a girl talking to a guy at a party. a guy who was, in all technical senses, single and available.
it was more so about him, and how close he was to her, how he leaned down to hear her, meaning she could probably smell his all-but-worn-off cologne.
your grip tightened on your red cup as you swallowed.
before, quinn had only ever been yours, because even when you doubted that he could ever return your feelings, he had never given you concrete evidence that he was interested in anyone else. so even though he hadn't been yours, he had been almost yours, probably going to be yours, or something like that.
but here he was, giving you concrete proof that he existed to others, too, that other people could be interested in him and he could be interested back.
and of course that had always been the case. how could you have been so narcissistic? of course people would foster crushes on him, like you did, and of course he was bound to reciprocate eventually, to someone.
you had let yourself believe that you were the center of the world for a moment, of his world, and you hated that.
so, honestly, it was barely even about quinn. this struggle, this was about you.
but if you stripped back everything external, oh, how downright jealous you felt right then.
so jealous that you had to leave, that you couldn't watch anymore. when you got home, you shut the door and exhaled.
what did i tell you? that bitter voice said, things just don't work out that way for you.
you could have growled, now, at how lazy, how self-centered that sounded.
don't look at me, chance would have said, hands raised in surrender, this was all you.
he was just talking to another girl, logical reason would say, that doesn't mean he's not interested in you. you have what, a couple months of history?
and of course reason would be right. of course, you knew, deep down, you didn't have to let this consume you.
but now a tendril of doubt had woven its way into your heart. if you had been so misled by your own ego before, how could you tell if any of it was real? how could you trust yourself to know if this wasn't much more to you than it was to him?
time. you needed some time.
thankfully, that was doable. you went home for break on friday after class, and planned to stay there for the week.
so you stayed home, caught up with your parents, ignored his numerous texts.
it hurt to do so, but you told yourself you needed some distance.
which wasn't that hard, considering he was playing a series of games across the country. you still put on his games though, which your parents noticed.
"didn't even know we got this channel," you dad observed one night as you watched quinn stickhandle around a sloppy winger.
"when did you get into hockey?" you mom asked, never critical. "we could go see a game sometime, if you want."
you started to settle down a bit, really enjoyed the time at home. before you knew it, though, break was almost over.
"sweetheart," you mom called to you on your second to last day, "would you mind taking the car in?"
you were skeptical. "why?"
"they just called," she explained, "said we're due for an urgent oil change."
you thought it was weird that they would call for that, but quinn was supposedly still away, so you figured it wouldn't be that much of an issue.
"sure," you responded. "i'll bring it in now."
you knew it was a trap as soon as you opened your car door at the garage.
the young receptionist approached you quickly with a guilty smile.
"hi, miss bean," you said, trying to gauge what she was about to say.
"look," she rushed, "i didn't want to, and i'm thought the plan was stupid, and i'm sure you're ignoring him for good reason-"
you sighed, knowing what was coming. having walked right into it. "i'm not, really," you stopped her, then felt the need to clarify. "it's not really a good reason."
"what is it, then?" that low voice asked from your side, and everyone else disappeared.
just him, standing there, looking the same as you had last seen him, but so, so different.
the same, because he was just as lovely as you last recalled. was it insensitive to say that he wore his weariness beautifully?
so different, because he just looked so tired. his coveralls did little to hide the slight slouch in his shoulders. a subtle stubble now shadowed his face, making his jaw sharper. and his eyes. that steely stone that had occupied your mind all this time - it was cracking, desperate for something to hang on to.
"just needed some distance," you mustered. you were jarred by his appearance, by being close to him again, just the two of you.
"yeah?" he looked you up and down, that desperate disappointment now running down your figure. there was no malice in his tone. "why, doll? so you can say you were right?" you could have hissed. "so you can go on knowing everything went exactly as you told yourself it would?"
things like this don't work out for you. who had been telling you that, again?
you sucked on your teeth, had no idea what to say. what do you say to someone that sees right through you? the pause settled like sludge. "i thought you were away," you eventually whispered, ignoring his question.
he ran a hand through his hair, let all his grief flood into his eyes. "and i thought it would be a lot harder for you to forget me," he said, "so i guess we're both at a loss."
you took a step forward, then stopped yourself, almost dizzy. "you actually think i would forget you?" you breathed, practically choking on your words.
he scoffed. "what was i supposed to think?" he rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. "i think everything is going well when you ask me to come to this party, then you spend the whole time talking to some other guy-"
your brow furrowed before you understood. "my friend's new boyfriend," you interrupted. to his confusion, you clarified. "i was talking to my friend's boyfriend."
he blinked, registered this information, appeared a bit lighter. "regardless," he sighed, "you were supposed to be talking to me, doll."
"hold on," you said, the memory of jealousy seeping into your bloodstream, "you were talking to someone else, too, quinn." you crossed your arms, images flashing in your mind of him leaning down, his ear much too close to her lips. "and i don't think that was your friend's girlfriend, unless they're trying out an open relationship."
"i just-" he gave a frustrated gesture, looked down at his feet for a moment.
"you what?" you pressed.
he sighed, now flushed. "i just wanted you to look at me."
you both were silent for a beat as you processed his words. you exhaled, took a few steps until you were right in front of him. his eyes flickered down to your mouth, took the long way back up.
you took his face in your hands, his stubble rough under your palms. you knew you didn't imagine the way he softened into you touch.
"surely by now you know you're all i think about," you said, an offering. like some sacrifice at a long-abandoned altar, so terribly desperate, shamefully honest.
so terrible, the way he grabbed at your hip, pulled you forward, against him. so desperate, the way his other hand twisted into your hair.
so shameful, how he captured your lips with his, all brute emotion, sleepy resignation, a million pleas of "look at me" answered with "i never looked away."
so honest, how he just barely whimpered into your mouth when you tightened your grasp on his jaw, kissed him harder. he pulled so slightly on your hair, you slid a hand down to his chest, gathered the collar of his coveralls in your first, trying to get him impossibly closer.
here, you both were practically screaming, here, have some more of me.
someone whistled across the garage. you pulled away from each other with a jump, having gotten a little carried away. quinn flushed on the tips of his ears and shot the culprit a look, which made you let out a light laugh into his chest.
the little rumble made him look down at you, wrap his arms around your waist and clasp them on the small of your back.
you stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. stone, molten.
"i have this thing next week," he said eventually, barely anything more than a rasp. "a formal for the team."
you nodded, reached up, twisted a strand of his hair around your finger.
"come with me," he asked, soft. "please."
you didn't have to think about it. "yes."
and so, about a week later, you found yourself at the hockey formal, an event you hadn't known existed a couple of months ago.
the past week had been blissful, but frustrating - you both were so busy, you with schoolwork and tutoring, him with the team. so much so that you could barely see each other outside of your scheduled tutoring session.
needless to say, you were very much looking forward to a weekend away with him. a whole night, just for the two of you.
and the whole night was wonderful. you were introduced to his teammates, saw a new side of him, heard his laugh so many times it made your head spin.
it was all just so easy. even the mess ups, the uncertainty, the silences, those were easy too, because they were with him.
when he stuttered over telling you how beautiful you looked - easy.
when you didn't know how to introduce yourself to his friends, so you just said you were "quinn's..." and then faded out, unsure - that was easy, because you weren't even really lying. your laugh was instinctual, and everyone else's was, too.
when he asked you to dance, reaching his hand out to you, there had never been an easier yes.
you danced with all the beautiful awkwardness of two people who weren't quite sure what they were yet - weren't quite sure how far they could go. there was not a question of how you both felt, but how slow were you taking this?
how slow could you bear?
every touch felt electric, like a gentle flame ignited whereever his hands had been. you felt a shiver erupt when his hand grasped your waist as you both moved together to a simple rhythm.
so up close and personal, you could smell his worn cologne, feel the warmth from his chest.
he gave you a sly smile, something close to a smirk. "okay, doll?"
you bit your lip, peered up at him through your lashes. "you just look so lovely, quinn," you told him, squeezed his hand, gave him a flushed smile. "it's distracting."
he pulled you a little closer, so that your chests were almost touching as you moved across the floor. "yeah?" he asked, his smile lazy, almost shy. "love a suit, do you?"
you tilted your head, met his gaze entirely and absolutely. oh, how much, how deeply you wanted. hadn't your want seemed to fray the fibers of the universe before?
babe, they seemed to remind you, we never cared.
then who was i praying to? you could have asked.
and they would have only shared a look, laughed like two girls at a sleepover.
well, who answered? they would have responded.
what you did do is give a slight shake of your head. "not the suit," you said. "you're distracting."
you watched his eyes become hooded, felt the underlying heat ignite between you. his grip on your waist tightened. "careful, doll," he breathed out, a warning, a plea.
"don't wanna be," you replied. there was a moment of understanding, a pause of anticipation.
"how slow do you want to take this?" almost drowsy with desire, his voice was slow, rough, only for you. "you know i'd go so slow for you, right, doll?"
you nodded. "i know," you assured him, "but i don't want you to."
you thought you heard him mutter a fuck before he was pulling you from the floor, out of the elaborate event room, upstairs to your room at the hotel. everything was a blur as his hand clasped around yours. a desperate escape, fleeing from everything, everyone except him.
and then the door was shutting and he was pushing you up against it, a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw as his lips met yours in a heated kiss that was every bit as desperate, as longing, and terrible and horrible and shameful as the first one.
you were both too far gone to hold back any longer.
you tangled your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, felt the curls between your fingers.
he tasted like mint and salt and something earthy.
kissing him felt like barbed wire made of gold, flowery rust, somehow the most violent act you had ever committed, yet also the most gentle.
like removing your heart with a cookie cutter, offering it to him on a painted porcelain plate.
you moaned into his mouth, he hissed just a bit as you pulled at his hair.
he pushed his hips up against yours, hiked your leg up around his thigh, making you gasp at the hardness you found across his front.
"more," you murmured against his lips, felt his sly smirk grow against yours.
he moved his hand from your hip to slide up your dress, glide his fingertips along your inner thigh, just barely skirt across your folds. "like this, doll? so wet for me already," he asked, his voice gravelly. "this must be enough then, yeah?"
you shook your head, moved your hips to try to get some friction.
"no?" he said, obviously teasing, "greedy girl, hm? wants even more?" he brought his other hand to your mouth, pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, smirked when you closed your lips around him without a second thought. "what do you say?"
"please," you whined around his hand, in a voice you barely recognized. "please, quinn."
he answered you by dragging his fingers through your folds once before pushing two into you, slow and deep, making you arch your back up off of the door.
"fuck, so tight," he rasped.
you whimpered against his thumb, closed your eyes as you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat.
"open up, doll," he demanded. "look at me."
you obliged with effort, wrapped an arm around his neck for support, another one bracing the door as he increased his pace, pushing his fingers in and out of you, grazing your clit each time.
your nails dug into his neck as you lost yourself in the sensation, barely registering the way he groaned at the delicious shot of pain.
"this enough, doll?" he cooed, annoyingly smug at how audibly wet you were.
you vigorously shook your head, so desperate to get him to keep going. "no," you pleaded, "fuck, please, quinn, don't stop."
he tightened his hand around your throat just a little, only barely squeezing as he flattened his other palm against your clit, making you moan loudly. "must be ready for me then, yeah?"
you fisted his dress shirt in your hand, pushed yourself off of the door and pulled him onto the bed. "please, need more of you," you begged, nothing more than a prayer, "fuck, want you so bad."
something lovely flooded his gaze as he moved his clothes aside, pulled himself out as you further hiked up your dress.
he spat into his hand, pumped himself up and down in a way that made your mouth water.
you were practically pouting. "please, fuck me, quinn," you said, pathetic and just so fine with it, "'s all i've been thinking about."
and you knew you had said something magical when he groaned and tugged you towards him by the undersides of your thighs, his grip hot and rough, a working man's grip.
"shit," he hissed as he ran his cock up and down your folds once, twice, collecting your wetness there, "'d never say no to you."
you whined when he first pushed into you, so, so deep that you swore you could feel him in the palms of your hands, feel him rattling around in your teeth, behind your eyes.
he moaned like a sinner, clutched at the flesh of your hips so tightly you knew his fingerprints would be left behind later.
as he began to thrust in and out of you, his rhythm hard and even, both of you could barely form words, so lost in the feeling of each other, finally as physically close as you could be.
"fuck," he bit out eventually, his rhythm picking up speed, "so tight, doll. so wet for me, hm?"
you nodded, clenched around him, reached one of your hands forward to rub at your clit, increasing the pressure quickly building inside of you.
he choked out a grunt at the sight of you touching yourself, only making you squeeze him harder. "feels so good, quinn," you whined, "so deep inside me."
he moved one hand up to your calf, hoisted one of your legs up to change his angle, thrusted down into you in a way that hit a dizzying spot inside of you. he kept going, bringing you both closer every minute.
"shit, feel so perfect," he bit out at some point. "made for me, hm?" he asked as you rubbed your clit faster. "squeezing me so perfect, yeah?"
you hummed something like affirmation, your breathing becoming ragged as he hit that spot over and over, his chest rising and falling, his thrusts becoming broken and messy.
"fuck, quinn," you moaned, "fuck, 'm so close."
he groaned. "gonna cum for me, doll?" he asked, letting your calf rest on his shoulder as his hand travelled down to apply only the slightest pressure to your lower stomach.
the sensation, that unique pressure making you feel him impossibly deeper, sent you soaring right to the edge.
"feel you squeezing me," he breathed out, his own voice tight and rough, his chest and stomach flexing as he fought off his own orgasm. "cum for me, doll, yeah? wanna feel you cum on my cock." he squinted with effort. "be good for me, hm?"
and his words sent you spiraling, a wave of pleasure finally crashing, clenching and spasming around him in a way that triggered his own high.
he moaned as he came, his breathing labored as you both collapsed back onto the hotel bed.
effort and satisfaction glowed on your faces, realized desire settling along his cheekbones and on the cupid's bow of your mouth.
there were several moments of easy silence in the warm air, his hand throw lazily around your middle, one of yours resting on his chest.
"can i ask you for something?" you said eventually, looking up at him with tired eyes full of possibility.
"anything, doll," he said, and you remembered back to that first day, in the garage. how easy it was, now, to remember it fondly.
"can i have a kiss, please?" you asked, almost shy, more so gentle.
a smile already played across his mouth. "especially that," he said, eager to comply with your request.
he leaned down to press a fluttering, beautiful kiss to your lips.
well i definitely didn't see this coming, chance stage-whispered to logical reason behind her hand.
i don't really deal with this lovey-dovey kind of stuff, logical reason said, not my thing.
all the divine powers and the fibers of the universe and such, they were silent. perhaps they always had been. perhaps this was much too far out of their jurisdiction.
perhaps it was just none of their business.
fin.
#hockey#nhl#nhl fic#hockey fic#hockey smut#nhl smut#jack hughes#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes smut#vancouver canucks
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"A Mother's Calm in the Storm"
Taglist- @circe143 @skittlebum
Summary: A few days past and you and Agatha continued to live on with her draining witches but one fateful day you happen to trigger your powers and don't know how to react luckily your mother is there to help -Chapter III
Chapter I
Chapter II
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The forest was alive with the soft whispers of leaves in the wind, birds singing their afternoon songs as Agatha and her child walked together. It was the childâs tenth birthday, a day Agatha had known for years would be special in more ways than one. Sheâd sensed the potential growing within them, like a seed waiting for the right moment to bloom.
But she hadnât expected that moment to arrive so suddenly.
One second, her child was bending to pick up a small stone by the river, and the next, it was as though the forest itself had come alive in response to their touch. The stone hovered, spinning in the air between their fingers, and all around them, pebbles and leaves began to rise, circling in a strange, beautiful dance. The childâs eyes widened, watching in shock as the power spread outward, pulling more of the forest into its grasp.
Agatha stepped closer, her heart swelling with pride and wonder, but her childâs face held only fear.
âMama,â they whimpered, their voice shaking, âI donât know whatâs happening⊠Make it stop, please!â
The childâs breaths came faster, panicked, as more objects lifted into the airâsmall stones, branches, even the water from the river lifting in droplets, suspended in a shimmering ring around them. They backed up a step, clutching their hands to their chest, eyes brimming with tears.
âShhh, shhh, itâs alright, my love,â Agatha murmured, kneeling down to their level, her voice gentle and warm. âItâs just your magic coming to life. Youâre not in danger, and Iâm here with you.â
But the child shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut as tears spilled down their cheeks. âI donât want thisâI donât know how to make it stop!â They sobbed, trembling as the energy surged stronger, the floating objects circling them faster, caught in a storm they didnât understand.
Agathaâs heart ached to see their distress, but she kept her voice calm, her hands reaching out to gently rest on their shoulders. âLook at me, sweetheart,â she said softly, her thumbs brushing away their tears. âTake a deep breath, just like we do when weâre practicing our songs. Remember? Breathe in⊠and out.â
They opened their eyes, looking into her calm, reassuring gaze. Her voice, soft and steady, seemed to reach them even through their panic. They sniffled, trying to breathe with her, their small hands clutching hers like a lifeline. Agathaâs presence was a steady, warm anchor in the chaos.
âGood,â she whispered, brushing a stray hair from their face. âYouâre doing so well, my brave one. Now, letâs try another breath. Nice and slow.â
They breathed in again, following her rhythm, and Agatha felt the storm of energy around them begin to calm, the floating objects dropping slightly. She held their gaze, smiling softly. âThere you go. Youâre safe, my love. Nothing bad will happenâyouâre in control.â
But even as the child tried to steady their breath, another wave of energy surged within them, wild and powerful. The stones, leaves, and river water rose again, swirling in chaotic orbits around them. They gasped, feeling the power slip from their grasp, their tears returning in a flood.
âI⊠I canât do it, Mama!â they cried, their small voice breaking with fear and frustration. âEverythingâs spinning, and I donât know how to make it stop. Iâm so scaredâŠâ
Without a momentâs hesitation, Agatha pulled them into her arms, wrapping them in a warm, comforting embrace. âItâs okay, my love,â she murmured, stroking their hair, letting her touch soothe them. âYou donât have to be afraid. Iâm right here, and Iâll help you.â
The child clung to her, burying their face in her shoulder, sobs shaking their body as they tried to calm down. Agatha held them close, rubbing small circles on their back, her voice a steady whisper. âListen to me, sweetheart. This magicâyour magicâis a gift, and itâs a part of who you are. Right now, it feels strange and new, but with time, it will become familiar. Youâre so strong, my brave little one.â
They pulled back slightly, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes. âBut I⊠I canât control it. Itâs too much, Mama.â
Agatha cupped their cheek, her gaze soft and full of love. âThatâs why Iâm here, my love. Iâll help you learn to control it, bit by bit. For now, just focus on me, and remember that this magic is yours. It belongs to you. It canât hurt you if you learn to welcome it.â
They sniffled, nodding slightly, still clinging to her hand as they tried to process her words. âWhat if⊠what if I canât make it go away?â
She smiled, leaning down to kiss their forehead. âThen weâll face it together, every step of the way. But I promise you, my darling, youâre much stronger than you think.â
Her words seemed to sink in, and slowly, they felt the storm inside begin to calm. The wild energy quieted, and the objects around them began to lower back to the groundâstones and branches settling softly, the droplets of water falling gently into the river.
Agatha watched with pride as they breathed deeply, steadying themselves, their small shoulders relaxing. She held their hands, guiding them through each breath, her warmth and strength steady and reassuring.
When the last of the chaos had faded, the child looked around, astonished by the stillness, the quiet. âI⊠I did it,â they whispered, a small, uncertain smile crossing their face.
Agathaâs heart swelled, and she pulled them close again, wrapping her arms around them. âYou did, my brave one. Iâm so proud of you.â
They hugged her tightly, letting out a shaky breath. âThank you, Mama. I donât think I couldâve done it without you.â
Agatha held them close, her own eyes misting over as she kissed the top of their head. âYouâre stronger than you know, my love. And Iâll always be here to help you understand your gifts, every step of the way.â
They stayed wrapped in each otherâs embrace, letting the warmth and safety of Agathaâs love settle over them. And as they began to walk back along the forest path, Agatha kept her arm around their shoulders, a smile on her lips as they talked about their newfound powers and the exciting journey that lay ahead. Together, they were ready to face whatever came nextâmother and child, bound by a love that was as fierce and enduring as the magic within them.
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A/n: Please leave a comment đ I wanna read your thoughts đ about this, it's only the beginning I made more interactions happen between Agatha and the reader
#agatha all along#agatha all along x reader#agatha harkness#agatha coven of chaos#agatha harkness x reader#agathario#agatha x reader#agatha all along fanfic#agatha harkness x you#agatha spoilers#agatha x rio#rio vidal x reader#rio vidal
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I Didn't Do This
pairing: rio vidal x fem reader
category: hurt/comfort
warnings: self-harm, mentions of suicide
word count: 602
summary: rio finds you bleeding in the bathroom
I gulped when I saw the small pool of blood on the bathroom floor. It was dribbling from the cuts I had made on my wrist just a few minutes ago. I gently placed Rio's dagger on the counter by the sink, giving myself a mental reminder to wash it off in a couple minutes.
"My love? Have you seen my dagger?" I froze up once I heard her voice and her footsteps just a few feet away from the bathroom door.
"Oh no- sorry." I gulped, knowing it was her prized possession. I knew she wouldn't care if I had it but if she knew what I had used it for...that's another story. I quickly hid it in the cabinet below the counter, knowing she would walk into the bathroom next.
The doorknob turned and the first thing she noticed was the blood on my floor. "Did I forgot to heal something?" She queried, a bit confused.
"Oh- uh-"
"I'd never hurt you on your wrist." She sounded a tiny bit accusatory, but that quickly turned to worry. "My love what did you do?"
"Nothing." I whispered quickly, watching as she grabbed my hand to bring my wrist to her tongue, licking the cuts and to heal them while holding eye contact.
"I didn't do this." She whispered, her eyes clouding with worry. "My love...did you do this to yourself?"
"I just...I yeah...yeah I did." I wiped away a single tear that fell from my eye and sat on the edge of the bathtub, avoiding eye contact. I really never wanted her to figure it out.
"I'm not mad at you sweetheart. I just want to know why." She knelt down in front of me, apparently she had found her dagger because it was back in its rightful place in her belt.
"Does it even matter?"
"Of course it matters. I have known everyone who has commit suicide-"
"I didn't try to commit suicide-"
"I'm well aware of the warning signs." Her voice was more firm now but it calmed me, she knew. She wanted to help.
"I'm sorry-"
"My love I'm not angry with you." She reminded me, laughing softly with a small smirk. I was the only one she was ever soft with, but even I had never seen her this soft. She ran her thumb over the now healed cuts, helping me stand up and leading me to our bed.
I sat against the headboard in silence as Rio gave me a glass of water before putting a flower in my hair. "I don't want you to be in pain." She whispered, her lips inches from mine. I snickered a little, knowing how our foreplay worked. Her eyes lit up as she saw me laugh. "You know what I mean." She pecked my lips.
"It was the first time." I admitted quietly. She gave a small nod, kissing my forehead and pulling me in for a hug.
"I want you to talk to me about this stuff." She murmured in my ear. "Instead of letting it get to this, you know?" My heart sank.
"I know."
"Hey, don't feel bad about it, ok?" She gently cupped my face in her hands. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I have been for the past 100 years and I'm not going anywhere now." She wiped away a small tear that trickled down my cheek.
"Thank you. That means a lot." I leaned my forehead against hers.
"Of course my love." Another forehead kiss. "I'm always here. I love you so much."
"I love you too."
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I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43
part one
an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol
wc: 5.2k
Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.
But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.
The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadnât once thought it was rightâhe had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. Theyâd been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. Thatâs what heâd told himself, anyway.
But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel theyâd rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadnât been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasnât he?
The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. Heâd travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.
And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldnât shake the thought of her. The way sheâd looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monzaâbefore she left for good. The way sheâd walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.
What if I had chosen her?
He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. Sheâd moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasnâtâsteady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasnât tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram storyâher laughing, the two of them in a cafĂ© in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happyâhad been the final blow.
That was the last straw.
And now, three years later, here he wasâabout to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasnât his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. Sheâd followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasnât sure he loved her anymore. He wasnât sure he ever had.
She had been the easy option. She fit into the world heâd built for himselfâthe shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.
But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one whoâd loved him first and probably would, even when he didnât deserve it. Even when he hadnât been able to see it for what it was.
He hadnât thought about her for a whileânot in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. Heâd buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angeloâs name pop up, or when heâd hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldnât help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?
He could only imagine the life sheâd built without himâthe kind of life she deserved.
But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if heâd ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldnât help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?
His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancĂ©e. A text: âHey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!â
He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard.Â
He knew he shouldnât, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadnât heard from her in so long, hadnât even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.
But, for some reason, there he wasâtyping out an invitation to his wedding.
Itâs the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. Theyâd spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.
He hit âsendâ before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.
It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinnerânothing fancy, just pasta and wineâand now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.
Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.
She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since sheâd thought about himâsince Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way heâd looked at her before everything changed.
Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.
I hope this message finds you well. Itâs been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. Iâm getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldnât feel right without including you.
I understand if youâre unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.
I hope everything is going well in your life.
All the best,
Fran
She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.
Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud ofâone that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldnât be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.
And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.
She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angeloâs gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made togetherâtogether, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Francoâs message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.
She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasnât hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?
Why am I even asking myself this?
She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didnât want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.
The following morning, the soft clink of Angeloâs keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.
She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.
âHey,â he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. âYou seem a little quiet this morning.â
She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. âIâm fine. Just tired, I guess.â
It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Francoâs invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldnât escape.
âWhatâs up?â Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.
She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.
Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldnât bring herself to look at him. She wasnât sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.
Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. âHeâs getting married, huh? I didn;ât believe it when I saw it on the news.â he said softly.
âYeah,â she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. âI guess he thought I should know.â
âYouâre not planning on going, are you?â Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.
She shook her head, biting her lip. âHeâs my past now. It doesnât matter. Itâs⊠itâs not something I need to revisit.â
Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to herâhow he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.
âI havenât seen Franco since we were sixteen,â Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. âI know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.â
She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. âClosure?â she repeated, almost incredulously. âI donât need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.â
âI know,â Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. âBut I think sometimes itâs easy to say weâve moved on, that weâre over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing himâseeing that lifeâwill help you put the final chapter behind you. Donât you think?â
She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasnât about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.
âI donât know,â she murmured, shaking her head. âI donât want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I donât want to go and be reminded of something that doesnât exist anymore.â
Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. âIt wonât. I promise. Youâre the one I want, mi amor Youâre the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, thatâs not us. Itâs not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then Iâll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.â
She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like thatâsteady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didnât hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.
With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. âYouâre right. Maybe it would be good to go. I donât know what Iâll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.â
Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. âThen weâll go. Together.â
She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his lifeâwhatever that was nowâcould stay in the past, but she wouldnât be running from it anymore.
âThanks,â she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. âFor always being here.â
âAlways,â Angelo replied, his voice warm. âNow go. You donât want to be late for your shift.â
She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.
Three months later
The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.
She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.
She was here. With him. With Angelo.
He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. âYou look beautiful,â he said, his voice tender.
She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.
âThank you,â she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. âYou look handsome, as usual,â she added with a smile.
He chuckled softly. âI try,â he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. âAre you ready for this? I know itâs been a long time coming.â
She nodded, squeezing his hand. âYeah. Iâm ready. Itâs just⊠itâs strange. You know? Weâre not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like Iâm finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.â
âWhatever you need, you have it,â Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.
She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.
âIâm going to step outside for a second,â she said, pulling away from him gently. âIâm going to grab a photo of the schedule. Iâll be right back.â
âTake your time,â Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.
She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremonyâs schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.
That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.
She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.
Franco.
He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years agoâhandsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.
Her stomach tightened.
âYou came,â he said, his voice soft with surprise.Â
She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. âI said I would,â she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.
He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldnât quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadnât expected.
âI didnât think youâd follow through,â he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
She didnât know what to make of that. She shrugged. âI thought Iâd at least be polite.â
A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Francoâs gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.
âCan we talk?â he asked, his words hesitant.
She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didnât want this. Didnât want to go back to the pastâdidnât want to open that door again.
âIâd rather not,â she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.
Francoâs expression softened. âItâs been three years. Three years overdue, donât you think?â
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didnât owe him anything, and yet, a part of herâperhaps the part that had loved himâknew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadnât been able to shake off.
She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. âFine,â she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. âBut just for a minute. I donât have time to rehash everything.â
âThank you,â Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. âMy roomâs just down here. I wonât keep you long.â
They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasnât sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasnât going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.
It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.
âCan I get you anything?â he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. âWater? A drink?â
She shook her head. âIâm fine.â
There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.
âSoâŠâ Franco began, taking a breath, âI guess this is awkward, huh?â
âYeah,â she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. âA little.â
Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.
âI never meant to hurt you,â he said, his voice quiet. âI know I did, but that wasnât ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I shouldâve done better. I shouldâve realisedâŠâ
Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.
âI shouldâve told you,â he started, voice low, almost regretful. âI should have told you that I loved you.â
She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. âDonât,â she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. âYou canât do that. You canât come here and say things like that after all this time. Itâs... itâs mean.â
Francoâs jaw tightened, but he didnât back down. âI shouldâve told you,â he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldnât quite placeâguilt, perhaps? Regret?
She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. âWhy are you still with her, then?â Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.
He didnât answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. âItâs easier to pretend to love her,â he admitted, his voice flat. âItâs easier than facing the truth.â
âThan what?â she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. âThan admitting you love me?â
The silence that followed was deafening. Francoâs eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.
âYou donât understand,â he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. âI was scared. I didnât know how to handle what I was feeling. I still donât.â
She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. âYou canât do this,â she said, her voice cracking with frustration. âYou donât get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You donât get to say things that undo everything we went through.â
Francoâs gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. âSay it, and Iâll leave her,â he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. âSay you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and Iâll do it. Iâll walk away from her. Iâll choose you.â
Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was thereâfamiliar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasnât that girl anymore. She wasnât the girl who would wait around for him to realise what heâd lost.
âI canât,â she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. âI canât do that anymore. Iâm happy now. Iâm happy with Angelo.â
The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Francoâs eyesâstill searching, still wantingâshe realised that she meant it. She really did.
Francoâs face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. âYou donât understand,â he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. âI never stopped loving you.â
She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. âNo,â she said firmly, her voice resolute. âYou donât get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when Iâve spent three years getting over all of this. You donât get to come here and break my heart all over again.â
For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.
âI canât undo what happened,â she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. âBut Iâm not that girl anymore. And Iâm not going to be someoneâs second choice.â
Franco didnât say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything theyâd been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.
She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.
âIâm happy now, Fran,â she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. âAnd you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I canât be part of that anymore.â
She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.
The wedding was beautiful.
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.
She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautifulâeverything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldnât shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasnât.
She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.
âYou okay?â he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.
She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. âI donât know,â she murmured. âSomething feels wrong.â
The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.
After a few more minutes, she couldnât hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. âDo you think heâs going to come?â
Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. âI donât know, cariño. Maybe somethingâs happened. Heâs probably just... running late.â
But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasnât just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.
And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw himâFranco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasnât in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.
The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of facesâhis family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didnât speak immediately.
He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the brideâs family sitting in the front row.
âExcuse me,â Freddieâs voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. âIâm sorry for the disruption,â he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. âI... I canât do this. I canât marry her.â
The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldnât look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.
âIâm sorry, I thought I could,â he went on, his voice quiet but steady, âbut I canât marry her when I love someone else.â His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had beenâit was all there in that single glance. But she didnât feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone elseâs dream unravel.
The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors heâd just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.
âIâm sorry, I justââ Franco continued, his voice breaking, âI canât do it. I canât go through with it. Iâm sorry. IâI just canât.â
Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.
The room was filled with stunned silence.
Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didnât know how to feelâdidnât know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.
And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.
She couldnât help herself.
The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.
It was her fault.
the end.
an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah
tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#formula one#formula one x y/n#franco colapinto x yn#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto#fc43#fc43 x reader#fc43 x you#fc43 imagine#williams racing formula one#williams formula 1#williams f1#williams racing#williams#formula one x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1#ann speaks#ann talks#angsty#angst#franco colapinto angst
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you writing is so beautiful. the way that logan tries to stop her - how blunt and earnest he is and the worst person for the job (but also best, in his own way) but he's trying, gosh that got me. love the line about logan's tailights being a lighthouse, guiding her back out in all that dark, and then trying to make her promise she won't go back.
and how they bump into each other again, the way he takes time and listens to her each time had my heart aching. the way you write her grief felt so real (I really appreciate how you wrote this fic - my own mental health over the past few years has been rocky and this felt so - gosh, I don't know, relatable? hopeful? wonderful? to read), and the fact that he understands in a way that no one else she knows does - it such a rough connection but you have me feeling glad for each of their encounters.
âLogan.â He sighs when you frown. âI know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,â he gestures at his face thatâs covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situationââ
Wheezing omg - perfect Wade introduction. And then that she goes back, and I that she hates but I love that he is getting a handle at how she thinks, how he makes her be honest. And gosh when he opens up in return, that fondness he had for Wade, how he's still hurting from before, I was inhaling this.
Loving 'DVDJ' (and the F9/Wade & Logan references omfg) and I so feel for reader and how hard it is to put yourself out there, but what a great group of people for her to surround herself with. And the whiplash with her finding him like that, how it still comes back to him after all the healing he's been trying to do, all of this made my chest ache.
Heâs talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but itâs more than that. Itâs shame, remorse, grief, survivorâs guilt, all wrapped into one. // âYou did what they would have done. And now you⊠you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.â
Ahh this made me want to cry - I love how you dug into his grief in this. How she's able to help him this time, find the words he needs to hear. And ahh I love how you write everyone - Vanessa, Wade, Althea. Logan's chip! I am tearing up again, especially at this part:
âI have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. âCause I donât want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my⊠past shit.â He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, âThey show me so much kindness and understanding, that⊠that even though itâs fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I⊠have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.â
oh!! đ„șđ and then I love the reveal that the cliff was a space in his world, even with their shared history of it. like they were always meant to meet, the âThink it took me coming over here to find reason in it.â had me like !!!! - sad and lovely is so right.
ââsides, I donât know if I would have a lot of⊠consideration for peopleâs boundaries.â
this made me laugh (reference to Hugh's interview right??) omg. and the way you pace things, how they slowly get better and fall into place for her, it makes me so proud, even just as a reader.
âOh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.â He grins. âWeâre so alike.â // It isnât lost on you he doesnât deny a thing.
Grinning, oh my god. And how sweet she is with the gift and how Wade wants to take a new photo of his new world - my heart. And then how seeing Vanessa and Wade makes her think about more, when at the beginning that was impossible - weeping.
Everything thatâs been happening, that youâve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldnât put your finger on⊠it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.
You like him.
!!!!! god, what a realization. and how she can't handle it, so real. And how he comes through the rain to check on her, oh my god. That he checked, and how scared he must have been!
âIâ No. Logan, this isnât about Wade or Vanessa, but itâs about⊠what they have. Something thatâs real, but imperfect, and thatâs what actually makes it perfect, and I just⊠I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didnât give myself time to even think about⊠I havenât felt myself wanting for so long,â your gaze flicks up to his. âSeeing them just made me realize thereâs so much left that I still want.â // His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. Thereâs no doubt he finds his answer; youâre ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.
Oh. And oh my god that perfectly imperfect kiss, the fact he's been wanting to for ages!!!!! I am screaming. âWouldnât be the first time we figure it out together, huh?â !!!! (the vein appreciation, loved that)
âIâll make it good for you,â he promises. âYou want that?â
eep! đłđ the smut was so perfect, so good. I am obsessed with how soft he is for her -
âLet me give you something to come on,â he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance.
LOGAN đł the desperation with how theyâre still on her table, how sweet and pleased he is - the âthen get it outâ, omg he is so filthy. This was amazing (that stomach vein yesssss) just absolutely steamy as hell and so so well-written and I had to keep taking breaks to stare at the wall. Phew! Fucking her against the wall!!!! I love the use of the strength here and yessss a long night indeed!! đđđ
And gosh, the last segment. No words, my heart is tied up in the sweetest of strings and knots. This was really something special. I already want to reread and pick each line apart. This was Logan and this is canon to me and wow I just loved this so much and I hope you are so proud of this fic because you really really should be. I am going to be thinking about this for a long time đ (and I would love to hear about the title, is Logan her cardinal?)(like a sign of hope and new beginnings?)
Cardinal
Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader
Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).
Word count: 16.6k
Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.
Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!
Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.
If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.
THE LOOKOUT
With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. Itâs strangely soothing that maybe youâre not the first to stand here to do this.Â
Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight itâs violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible â it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadnât been as bright as it is.
Itâs like youâre looking at the edge of the world.
During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliffâs edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.
Something had crept in while you werenât looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that⊠something.
Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately itâs been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. Youâre exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.
Today you want it to be your last time here.Â
Youâve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined â all but romanticised â how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that itâs apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. Youâll be gone, but the thing will be too.
The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like itâs right, how itâs supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, andâ
âHey, stop!â
A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.
âFuck off!â you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how itâs amplified by the wind.Â
After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you canât even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your bodyâs baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where youâre standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor.Â
You almost miss the much softer, âHey,â as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you donât hear him, or see him â you simply pretend he isnât there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset.Â
But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.
âDonât fucking touch me,â you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling â weak.
âEasy.â He holds his hands up in surrender. âWasnât planning on it.â
You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you donât move, donât blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket heâs wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.
âYou knowââ he begins.
âIâm not really looking for a conversation.â
âMe neither,â he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, âso Iâll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the waterâs gonna be nice to you, youâve got that wrong. Youâll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isnât gonna do shit.â
Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth youâve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatterĂng your expectations with them sting, but you donât even know this guyâ
âAnd thereâs nothing fuckinâ peaceful about it, itâs just panic. Right before you go too farâŠâ He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, â...thereâs this burning right here thatâs hell.â
âAnd what makes you such an expert?â you finally spit out.
âDied like that a couple times,â he says without waiting a beat.
The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. ââA couple timesâ?â
âI, uhâŠâ You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, âLetâs just say I canât die.â
Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. âThat must fucking suck.â
He barks out a laugh, âGot that right.â It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. âBut trust me, being down there isnât much better.â
Thereâs something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You canât really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe itâs because youâre freezing and itâs your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe itâs simply because heâs a stranger and itâs so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.
âThings just feel soâŠ,â you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on whatâs closest to how you feel, âendless.â
To your relief, he doesnât say anything. Doesnât tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit youâve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you havenât encountered before.
Understanding.
It might be worse. If anything, itâs overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff.Â
The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. Itâs a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.
You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadnât taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.
âShit. Hey, you still with me?â The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. âJesus, youâre fucking freezing.â
âNo s-sh-hit,â you retort.
He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. âCâmon, let's get you warmed up.â
â â â â â
Logan.
Thatâs his name.Â
Itâs how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didnât want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here â here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Loganâs tail lights served as a lighthouse.
Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphletsâor pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.
Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadnât learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same.Â
Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like sheâs asked Logan twice now. Youâre handing her the glass when Logan says, âSheâs had enough.â
Your head whips from her to him. âExcuse me?â
He doesnât say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Loganâs is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like heâ Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You donât need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,
âQuit pitying me, Logan.â
âIâm not,â he says before taking another sip. âYou still have to drive.â
You quirk an eyebrow at him. âAnd you donât?â
Logan shrugs. âItâs different for me.â
Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, âWell, let me guess, itâs another case of âI died like that a couple timesâ?âÂ
He hums.
âAnd how does that work?â
âRegenerative ability,â he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, âX-Gene.âÂ
The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things â heâs a mutant. Youâre not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isnât like you couldnât have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what itâs like to... Thatâs why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different lightâ
âNow whoâs pitying who, hmm?â Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.
âIâm not, Iâm just⊠processing. So this...â you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, â...doesnât even affect you?â
âIt does. For a few seconds.â He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two⊠before going back to normal. âBut if I chugged the bottle, Iâd pass out.â
âWell, so would I,â you say with a chuckle. âSo maybe weâre not that different after all.â
Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because⊠it isnât true; youâre very different. Youâre pretty sure you donât have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like youâve overstayed your welcomeâburdened him.
âI should head home,â you say, standing again.
Lightning fast, Loganâs hand shoots out to close around your wrist. âThat really where youâre going?â
âYes,â you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesnât let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, âLet me go.â
âJust promise me something,â he says, eyes as dark as theyâd been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. âDonât go back there again.â
âNot making promises I canât keep,â you say, giving him a wry smile. âTo strangers, but least of all to myself.â
He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.
THE CRAVING
New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.
You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Loganâs words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. Itâs not a good way to deal with things, but it works.
Thereâs a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that⊠something inside you is busy trying to squash it.Â
Itâs getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much youâve already had to drink, but youâre buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, youâre tired⊠The truth is that youâre too old for this, but itâs easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.
The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend whatâs being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.
After some time â could be an hour, could be 10 minutes â you make your way to the bathroom. Itâs quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy.Â
When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.
Itâs a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you canât help but think heâs looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, âNeed something to take the edge off?âÂ
Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand.Â
âFirst timeâs on the house.â
You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.
A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.
âShe isnât interested, pal.âÂ
Itâs another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, thereâs a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the manâs shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you donât understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, andâ
âLogan?â you slur in disbelief.Â
Logan doesnât reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. Youâre stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. Itâs a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Loganâs grip loosens â another and he lets you go.
âHow did you even findââ You cut yourself off, eyes widening, âOh, my god, are you following me?â
Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. âOh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?â
âYouâre here, arenât you? You and your fuckingâŠ,â you gesture wildly into the air at him, âsavior complex.â
âI work here,â he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, âItâs temporary. âSides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isnât selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!â His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.
âMaybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,â you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.
Logan sighs. âWhere are you going?â
âIâm leaving.â
âAnd then what, huh?â
âI donât fucking know, Logan,â you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. âFigure out a new way out of this.â
âYeah? Third timeâs the charm?â
âWhy do you even care, huh? You donât even know me,â you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. âBut I guess that makes two of us.â
Itâs not like you expected him to, but he doesnât answer.
âYou know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes⊠everything.â You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. âIt takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until Iâm something Iâm not and until Iâm so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fuckingââ you pause with a wet gasp for air.
âDestroy yourself,â Logan finishes for you.
Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. âExactly.â
He takes a step closer to you. âLet me take you home,â he says, voice gentle.Â
You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you donât. In your drunk state of mind, itâs easier to admit itâs nice that someone understands, that someoneâs there to stop you from going too farâŠÂ
Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, youâll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldnât be standing here with him. If youâre lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that youâll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishmentâ
âWhat about your job?â you ask with a sniff.
Loganâs palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. âTheyâll manage without me.â
â â â â â
When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. Theyâre not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillowâs too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize youâre on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from youâ
âMorninâ, sunshine.â
The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air.Â
âWish I could say itâs a pleasure, but it hasnât been very pleasurable. Youâve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,â he adds with a whisper. âBut donât worry, she left about an hour ago.â
âWho are you?â you slur, blinking against the light.
âLogan.â He sighs when you frown. âI know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,â he gestures at his face thatâs covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situationââ
âCut it out, Wade,â comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.
âIâll let you two talk.â Wade winks.
Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.
âHow are you feeling?â Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.
You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. âLike shit.â
âYeah,â is all he says as he sits back down.
âWhatââ
âYou fell asleep in the car. Didnât know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.â
âOhâŠ,â you say, voice small.Â
You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Loganâs car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Loganâs fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.
âI have the weirdest memory of you having⊠a sword?â
You watch as Loganâs lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, âYou probably saw these.â He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!
âJesus fucking Christ,â you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didnât sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk.Â
Thereâs so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.
âItâs a story for another time,â Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until theyâre gone. âI gotta go check if I still have a job.â
The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.
ââS not your fault,â Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. âYou donât have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.â
âYeah, okay,â you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door.Â
He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.
THE PUZZLE
It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You donât have a name for it yet, or maybe youâre afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasnât all there was. That there is something beyond this.Â
Perhaps foreign wasnât the right way to describe it, because it is something youâve felt before â itâs just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldnât fall for it again, but you canât help it. The feelingâs too sweet, and the idea that thereâs still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you.Â
So yeah, maybe youâre just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps â quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured nowâs your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.
Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isnât anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you donât know if this is much better.Â
Just when youâre about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other thatâs caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. âShit, sorry.â He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.
âHi,â you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.
He nods in greeting. âBrings you here?â
It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; itâs not that heâs ever been any different in his interactions with you.
âI came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you knowâŠ,â you trail off, gesturing at the door.
âBarfing up the place!â comes a shout from inside the apartment.Â
Loganâs eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang.Â
âThat,â you finish sheepishly. âIâm really sorry.â
He nods in acknowledgement.
âI also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.â
Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.
âI want to quit drinking,â you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. âIt doesnât make me better, and when I donât do it I finally feel a little⊠normal. Maybe coffeeâs technically just as bad, but itâs the only thing thatâs currently acting like⊠like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like youâre the only person I know that might get that feeling ofââ
âI do,â Logan cuts in, voice softer than before â assuring. His arms drop from where theyâre crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. âLetâs go.â
â â â â â
You donât know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar â and you like the tall windows. The coffeeâs pretty decent.
âDid they fire you?â you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.
âBoss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,â Logan replies. âGot off with a warning.â
âIâm sorry.â
âSaid that already, and I accepted,â he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. âNo need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.â
You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.
âBut, um, Wade hasnât shut up about⊠the incident.â Thereâs a different tone to his voice, like heâs trying to lighten the mood. âHis words.â
âYou know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesnât shut up about a lot of things.â It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little.Â
âYouâre a quick study.â
Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. âI also stopped by because I wanted to, uh⊠because I realized I never really⊠I never⊠I never thanked you, for um⊠Andââ
With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. âYâdonâtââ
To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, âLogan, Iâm supposed to be deadââ
âSo am I,â he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, âIâve been where you are. Past it, even.â
You donât know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but itâs impossible to look away from him. Loganâs gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but itâs not from anger. Instead, itâs like heâs searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesnât bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,
âI had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you thatâs, franklyâŠ,â he makes a face as he pauses, âa horrible excuse for a coffee, helps⊠I can do that. I want to do that.â
The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. âWas it Wade?â
Logan lets out a chuckle, and itâs honest â fond. âYeah.â
âFigured,â you say. âHow did you meet him?â
Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. Itâs an innocent question, but maybe it isnât something heâd like to revisit right now. Loganâs mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeatâÂ
It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you metâŠ
Thereâs no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here.Â
Thereâs hesitation in it, like he isnât telling you the whole story, though you donât comment on it. He doesnât owe you anything and youâre too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.
âItâs a very brave thing the two of you did,â you say when heâs finished.
âHmm, it was all Wade,â Logan muses. âHe did it all for the people he cares about.â
âIâm sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.â
At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. âDo me a favor, donât put me on a pedestal.â
You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried youâve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.
âI gotta go but um, Wadeâs friendsâ,â he stops himself, correcting, âour friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap theyâre going to be watching but⊠itâs nice. Itâll be nice to be around good people.â Logan doesnât wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.
âWait, no, I invited you,â you protest. âI shouldââ
âYou can pay next time.âÂ
When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.
â â â â â
You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.
THE PANTRY
ââbut itâs the best one!â Wade protests, DVD in hand.
âThey fly a car into space, Wade,â Laura sighs.
âLaunched off a jet,â he corrects. Like it helps.
You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyoneâs babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.
It hadnât been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, youâd thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that youâd be relieved you hadnât canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadnât been as bad as you feared.Â
Thereâs Peter, Wadeâs friend. Ellie, another one of Wadeâs friends. Yukio, Ellieâs girlfriend. Laura, Loganâs daughter. Mary Puppins, Wadeâs small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wadeâs blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wadeâs ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasnât there.
Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were⊠unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, âgood for the group dynamic,â and it made you beam with pride.
âDonât they have like, rockets attached to the car?â Ellie questions, to which Yukioâs eyebrows knit together.
âExactly!â Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. âCitizen Kane wishes.â
Thereâs more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasnât in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.
Youâre pretty sure heâs the only one who knows what heâs even talking about.
An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesnât need to pause the movie before you go.
The apartmentâs small, so it isnât far to the kitchen, but itâs nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. Theyâre more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.
Right as youâre finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. Thereâs another sound, like a muffled groan. Itâs coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. Thereâs a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it youâre walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it openâ
Youâre not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasnât this. Loganâs sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how heâs trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.
Fuck.
Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. âItâs okay, youâre having a panic attack,â you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. âYou need to breathe. Iâll help you, just look at me.â
Loganâs head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.
âHey!â you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, âLook at me.âÂ
Loganâs eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees itâs you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where itâs buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.
âBreathe,â you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesnât catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Loganâs eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. âThere you go, good job. Keep going.â
You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.
âCame outta nowhere⊠suddenly I was back there⊠letting them down.â
âIt caught you off guard, it happensââ
âI let them get killed,â he says, voice raw. âThey were likeâ They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I⊠I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.â
Loganâs tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. Heâs talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but itâs more than that. Itâs shame, remorse, grief, survivorâs guilt, all wrapped into one.
Itâs the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.
âHowâ How can I ever atone for that?â he asks. âHow can I everââ
âLogan, you can't change your past,â you interrupt carefully. âYou made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them byâ byâŠstepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.â
âWhat if it wasnât enough?â
âWhat if it was?â you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, âYou did what they would have done. And now you⊠you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.â
Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal⊠until thereâs a loud explosion coming from the living room. Itâs followed by cheers and hollers, and youâre both suddenly reminded of where you are.Â
âCâmon,â you say, patting Loganâs knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. âBetter get back before we miss the good stuff.â
Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. âThink this was the good stuff.â
â â â â â
Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway.Â
It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wadeâs mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck youâre staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps⊠He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessaâs expression twist into recognition.Â
âNice to meet you,â she says, followed by an apologetic smile.Â
You respond in kind.Â
When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. âSee you around!â she throws over her shoulder.
A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, youâre not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.
THE MEETING
April flies by, rolls into May, and thingâs are⊠okay.
With some help, you find a therapist. Itâs good, sheâs good, but itâs difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself itâs all part of the process youâre going through.
Last week, after a particularly difficult session, youâd left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything youâd discussed â like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.
Youâd answered without saying a word.
âGot any plans?â Logan had asked on the other side of the line.
âNo,â youâd replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.
âAlâs making her meatballs â she and Wade canât agree on if theyâre famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, weâll order in.â
Youâd hummed, managing to ask, âWhat time?â
It had stayed quiet on the other end, and thatâs how youâd known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed itâwanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago.Â
âSounds to me like now might be good.â
âYeah,â you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. âYeah, Iâll be there soon.â Youâd released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination.Â
âLogan?â
âStill here.â
âThank you for calling.â
ââcourse. Get here soon, Iâll stay on the phone.â
The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartmentâs kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories â Altheaâs recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.
The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldnât be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day.Â
Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week.Â
âI thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,â heâd explained. âFigured I couldnât continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to⊠avoid my problems.â
You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so⊠official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You werenât good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other peopleâs problems...
But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasnât just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe⊠this was his way of telling you he needed some support.Â
Thatâs how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. Itâs as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters.Â
Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that thereâs a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front.Â
The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel⊠connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, itâs actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.
âBefore we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,â says the woman leading the meeting â youâre ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. âDoes anyone want to share something about that?â
It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand.Â
âLogan! Come on up!â She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.
The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.
âNot good at this stuff, so Iâm going to keep it brief,â he starts.Â
It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesnât expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.
âMy life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, itâs not all bad. Coming here has been good. Iâm starting to feel more like I did beforeââÂ
He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after.Â
âI have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. âCause I donât want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my⊠past shit.â He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, âThey show me so much kindness and understanding, that⊠that even though itâs fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I⊠have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.âÂ
You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.
âSo, thatâs what Iâm currently working on.â Logan sighs. âThatâs it. Thank you.â
A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.
Your palms hurt after.
â â â â â
âIt was really nice, what you said in there,â you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You havenât felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.
The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Loganâs when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didnât plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company â it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.
Logan scoffs in reply.Â
âIâm being serious,â you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. âIt was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. Iâm proud of you.â
You swear he blushes. âA guy like me, huh?â he asks, almost amused.
Itâs your turn to scoff. âYou know what I mean.âÂ
âA mutant?â He looks at you from the corner of his eye.
âNo,â you say, because itâs not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact heâs not entirely wrong make you track back. âWell, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.â
Logan doesnât shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. âThink you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.â
âMaybe next time.â
During the comfortable silence that follows, youâre reminded of something youâve been considering for weeks now. You hadnât paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.
âIâve been wondering something,â you begin. âThe night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?â
Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. âWhen I had just, um, gotten here, it wasnât always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that theyâre not that different.â
âYou went there on your side?â
He hums.
âBy yourself?â
He hums again.
âDid youâŠâ You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because youâre not sure if you have any right to ask and because youâve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead.Â
âNo, no, no, I⊠I canât explain it, itâs just one of those places I was always drawn to,â Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. âThink it took me coming over here to find reason in it.â
Itâs a thought thatâs equal parts sad and lovely.Â
The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you canât place, but Logan doesnât look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You canât help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,
âIs mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?â
His eyes widen â amusement or surprise, you canât say. âIt can be.âÂ
âCan you do it?â
âNo,â he says. âAnd itâs for the best, fucking hurts when you canât control it.â Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. ââsides, I donât know if I would have a lot of⊠consideration for peopleâs boundaries.â
It makes you chuckle. âRight. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot â imagine reading Wadeâs mind.â
âHurts to even imagine,â Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, âThis your place?â
âWhaâ?â Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. âOh! Yes.â
âAll right,â he nods. âSee you next week?â
âDefinitely,â you reply.
âOh,â Logan says right before you turn around. âBring coffee? You owe me.â
You make a face at him. âYou donât have toâ Iâll get you something else, I know you donât like it.â
âI like it when I drink it with you.â
Itâs incredibly hard to hide your grin. âOkay, Iâll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.â
âSee you.âÂ
He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. Itâs not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.
THE SUMMER
Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. Itâs a warm feeling to know that youâll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.
Youâre invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.
Itâs not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you heâs proud of you.
Itâs way better than champagne.
â â â â â
Youâre in serious, desperate need of a new placeâŠÂ
The August heat is relentless, and the entire buildingâs AC isnât working. Itâs with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friendsâ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isnât with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, thereâs no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.
âNo.â Itâs a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. âHere, too?â
âIf it wasnât this fucking hot Iâd be offended by that greeting.â He sighs. âCome in.â
Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. Heâs in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room.Â
âTried everything, thereâs no fixing that fucking thing.â
Wade makes a face, âListen, I know what youâre thinking: Wadeâs in his underwear, Loganâs emerging from the bedroom⊠But we didnât fuck, itâs not that kind of stââ
âWho are you talking to?â you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.
âNo oneâYou!â The door closes with a bang.
Confused, you walk further into the apartment. âWell, telling me you didnât is just going to make me think that you did.â Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.
Wade suddenly turns to face you. âDid I ever tell you about our time in The Void?â
âWade,â Logan warns.
Wadeâs eyes are sparkling with mischief and you canât deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Loganâs buttons. Itâs a good distraction from how youâre drenched in sweat. And youâre actually curious.
You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. âDid you..?â
âOh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.â He grins. âWeâre so alike.â
âShut up. Both of you.â Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. âItâs too fucking hot to be annoyed.â
It isnât lost on you he doesnât deny a thing.
â â â â â
Apartments look weird with nothing in them.
Itâs what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. Itâs a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.
âIncoming!â comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.
You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked âKitchenâ down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, thatâs also the kind of energy youâre bringing to this.
Itâs nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You donât get long, however, because more help has just arrived.
Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.
It draws everyoneâs eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.
âAll right, all right,â he says. âStop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!â
â â â â â
âSo it was like an experiment?â you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.
Tonightâs your first night hosting at your new place â Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare.Â
Once he had arrived, it hadnât taken long for him to admit he wasnât much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You donât remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.
âThey needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,â he explains. âI was in a dark place. Figured I didnât have anything to lose if it didnât work.â
You nod in understanding. âDo you⊠remember much about it?â You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan.Â
Loganâs knife stops hitting the cutting board. âYeah, I⊠I remember every second of it.â
You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what youâd want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Loganâs head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you couldâve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze.Â
âBut Iâm trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.â As soon as heâs said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, âHere in this timeline, I mean.âÂ
You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. âThat sounds like a great idea.â
â â â â â
âI need your help with something,â you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you donât like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.
âJust say the word,â comes Loganâs reply from the other end.
âI need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.â Thereâs a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.
âAm gonna need you to say a little more than just that.â
You laugh, âWadeâs been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fuââ
âYes, I know the one,â he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, âConsider it done.â
THE PARTY
âThere you are!â Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartmentâs crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.
âI got you something,â you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.
âWouldnât have let you in if you hadnât,â he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. âIs it a cock ring?â
You canât help but laugh at that. âUnfortunately, they were all sold out.â
âThey always are,â he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. âWell, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.â
âLogan helped me kidnap it,â you explain, pointing at the picture. âAnd the little red hearts on the frame, well, theyâre your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.â
When he looks at you after, itâs with genuine emotion⊠but Wade is Wade. âNever thought Iâd say this, but Iâm kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.â
A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. âThank you.â
âWe should take a new one,â he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. âYou both should be in it.â His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. âBut letâs be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldnât even fit in the frame, much less his bulââ
âStop talking about my dick, Wade,â Logan snaps.
âI was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitiveâŠâ Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.
âDid he like it?â Logan asks, voice low.
âYeah,â you smile.
âGood,â he replies. âWas a nice idea.â
You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. âWhat did you get him?â
The corner of Loganâs mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.
âItâs an inside joke,â Logan shrugs.
Wadeâs eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesnât elaborate, only adds, âItâs classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.âÂ
âAnd I have top level clearance, lieutenant,â you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates youâve gotten the reference. âWhat, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?â
âNo,â he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, âbut that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.â
â â â â â
The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay sheâs doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips.Â
While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration heâs almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.
It hits you how you havenât thought about this in a while. Youâd decided long ago that the future wasnât something you had to worry about, but suddenly youâve arrived, like youâre in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time youâre getting back with the life you now have.
For a while now, youâve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isnât much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that thereâs room for something else.
Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know itâs been far from easy for them. You suppose thatâs what itâs like, especially as you get older. Itâs less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet momentsâ
âDo you dance?â
You startle, head turning towards the voice next to youâÂ
âLogan,â you breathe.Â
Itâs like youâre seeing him for the very first time. Heâs standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt heâs wearing isnât even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. Heâs grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but thereâs a hint of green between the hazel.
It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything thatâs been happening, that youâve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldnât put your finger on⊠it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.
You like him.
All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. âI mean, not that Iâ You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, itâs a reference toââ Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, âAre you okay?â
You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that youâre afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. âYeah,â you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes.Â
Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what itâs puzzled together at such a sickening pace that thereâs an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this beforeâ
âI gotta go,â you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.
Loganâs eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. âWaitââ
âBye, Logan.â
THE TABLE
Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.
Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, itâs laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. Itâs not like you donât know what Loganâs like; heâs kind, funny, supportiveâŠ
âŠbroad, handsome.
Shit.
Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Loganâs your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. Itâs ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.
But he might.
Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.
But it would change everythâÂ
Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, youâve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are yourâŠÂ
friends.Â
You didnât say goodbye to Wade.
The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didnât even say goodbye to him before you left. Youâre a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, thereâs a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where youâre seated.
âAre you in there?â a muffled voice calls out.
Itâs Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.
The first thing you notice when you open it is that heâs dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. Thereâs a deep furrow in his brow, and itâs different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.
âLogan, is everythingââ you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor.Â
âJesus, here you are. Whyâd you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didnât see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you werenât in the water, thank fuckââ
âWait, you wentââ you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. âDid you think..?â
âYeah,â he sighs, shoulders slumping.
âShit.â Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. âNo, I wasnât⊠I donât want that anymore.â
âThen what the fuck was that all about?â
The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. âI was just⊠I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,â you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.
âYou⊠like Wade?â Logan asks, his frown deepening.
You canât help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. âNo. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. Heâs with Vanessa.â
The answer does nothing to change his expression. âAnd you want it to be different?â
His line of questioning confuses you. âIâ No. Logan, this isnât about Wade or Vanessa, but itâs about⊠what they have. Something thatâs real, but imperfect, and thatâs what actually makes it perfect, and I just⊠I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didnât give myself time to even think about⊠I havenât felt myself wanting for so long,â your gaze flicks up to his. âSeeing them just made me realize thereâs so much left that I still want.âÂ
Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. Thereâs no doubt he finds his answer; youâre ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.Â
Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. Itâs eager, and the angle is off, but itâs quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction.Â
Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, âBeen⊠thinking about doing that.â
âReally?â you say, breathless and amused. âWhen did you, um, start wanting to do that?â
âFew weeks agoâFuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,â he admits. âBut I wanted to give you time, space. Wasnât sure if you feltââ
âI do. Didnât realize it before, but I fucking do,â you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.
Loganâs hand on your waist holds you off. âI just donât know how to⊠how to be this,â he confesses softly.
âThatâs okay,â you say, your nose brushing against his. âI donât either.â
He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, âWouldnât be the first time we figure it out together, huh?â
The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Loganâs hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him.Â
His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before youâre scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Loganâs while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.
Loganâs sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you canât help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own.Â
âYouâre so good to me,â he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. âAlways so fucking good to me.â
It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, heâs the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Loganâs flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit.Â
âThis okay?â Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.
âYeah, itâs justâ Oh, god.â Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. âBeen a while,â you manage to finish your sentence.
âIâll make it good for you,â he promises. âYou want that?â
All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. Itâs paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Loganâs nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down.Â
The feeling of Loganâs hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isnât tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.
âOh, that feels really good,â you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine.Â
Loganâs eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where youâre dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.
The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.Â
Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. âLet me give you something to come on,â he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.
âOh, fuck, fuck, fuckââ Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Loganâs off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. Heâs too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, andâŠ
âLogan,â you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge.Â
Itâs so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Loganâs tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt.Â
Heâs a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesnât leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.
âHowâs that?â Logan dares to ask.
âHmm, no speaking yet,â you protest.
Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Itâs slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel.Â
With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.
âFeels nice,â he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, âAre you gonna let me fuck you?â
âGod, yeah,â you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. âWant you inside of me.â
âJesusâThen get it out,â he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt.Â
If you werenât so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.
He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.
âFâfuck,â Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin.Â
It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. âHowâs that?â you echo with a teasing lilt.
He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, ââS good, sweetheart.â
The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.
âCâmere,â Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.
Youâre so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.
âJust like that,â you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. âKeep going just like that.â
He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Loganâs hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that youâre practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.
âFuck, itâs a lot,â you say, and when he grins against your mouth you canât help but kiss him again â just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and itâs a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over. Â
âCan stay like this a little longer if you want,â he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.
âHmm, no, you can move.â Youâve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didnât feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. âJust donât break my table.â
The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you canât say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skinâ
With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. Itâs a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesnât miss a beat as he continues fucking you.Â
âJesus, Logan,â you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.
With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.
The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, âItâs so deep like this, canâoh, my godâcan feel you everywhere.âÂ
Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. Thereâs a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesnât quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow heâs still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple.Â
You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, itâs not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall.Â
Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies.Â
âTouch yourself,â he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where youâre joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. âThatâs it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.â
You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Loganâs finding with every thrust. âYeah, fuck, IâmâDonât stop, donât stop, pleaseââ
Heâs coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. Itâs so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where youâre gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come.Â
The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Loganâs shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.
It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like youâre made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions.Â
Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Loganâs hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell heâs already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly thatâs making you pant, and...
Itâll be a long night.
THE PEARL
It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasnât that he didnât trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasnât a Christmas movie â mandatory for December. Wadeâs right, but after you explained that itâs the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) heâd agreed.Â
Now that youâre actually watching it, you suspect heâs genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, heâs been quiet for longer than youâve ever heard him be quiet.
In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffaloâs character Dan and Keira Knightleyâs character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.
â...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these⊠these beautiful, effervescent pearls,â Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. âI gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just⊠becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.â
The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.
âMore string than pearls?â Gretta inquires with a frown.
âYeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.â Thereâs a pause as he turns to look at her, âThis moment is a pearl, Gretta.â
She gives him a hint of a smile. âIt sort of is, isn't it?â
âAll this has been a pearl,â he admits, sharing a look with her.
A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Loganâs. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.
It takes a lot of string indeed.
Sometimes even interdimensional string.
â â â â â
(THE END)
If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.
And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help đ«
#this was incredible#logan howlett x reader#jess reads#2024 fave fics#fic rec: logan howlett#fic rec: deadpool & wolverine#thinking of queue
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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE
thought iâd be lying if i said âi didnât want you to myself.â when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that itâs mine, iâŠ
pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc
taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l
kalena speakss đȘœ! chapter in honor of game day! but itâs not looking too good for our faves i fear.
June 2025 â Los Angeles, California
âCan you open the door?â
âIn a second, K! Be patient!â
âWe need to talk, open this door!â Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.
I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me sheâd be visiting.
I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. âWhat?â
âWe need to talk about your birthday show.â
The show is something weâve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?
âWhat about it, K?â
âSo Summer backed out.â She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. âSomething came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.â
âThat all couldâve been a text message. Or a phone call.â I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. âWhy are you here?â
âWhat, you donât want me here? Julian around or something?â
My eyes canât help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.
âNo heâs at a conference in Phillyâ are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?â I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.
Itâs quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though Iâm waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.
âYou know, Iâve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.â She says. âYou sure you didnât mess with it?â
I try to avoid looking at her. Iâm a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I canât lie to her anymore. Sheâs suspicious, and though I donât know of what itâs still incredibly nerve wracking.
âYeah. Not at all.â Which technically isnât a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.
Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like sheâs weighing odds in her head. âAnd whatâs his name is in Philly, yes?â
âYes. Kaylee, whatâs up with all theââ
The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. âSo then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.â
In all honesty, I couldâve kept the lie going. I shouldâve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I couldâve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.
âRaye, Iâm not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.â She reassures me.
âNo, no, youâre definitely gonna be mad.â
âWas it Paige?â I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, sheâs covering her mouth incredulously. âRaye, no.â She whines.
âIâm sorry!â I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I donât regret anything.
âYouâre gay?â
âI donât think thatâs the most important topic at hand.â
âRight, sorry.â She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.
Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.
I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.
I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.
The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.
âThose pictures. Were you guysââ
âNo, we werenât doing anything then. I promise.â I reassured. Kaylee isnât even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; Iâve known her long enough to know that look. âI dunno, she just makes me feel different.â
I donât know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldnât understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl Iâve known for a month and a half. There really isnât an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesnât feel like it.
Paige doesnât feel like a mistake, I couldnât ever classify her as one.
The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. âDifferent? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?â
âWe havenât slept together, K.â
She raises her head gingerly. âWait so...â Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly Iâm even more aware of the bruises on my neck. âYouâre telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that youâre just friends, when youâre not. But you havenât slept with her and might have feelings for her?â
âItâs complicated, Kaylee. Iââ
âItâs messy, Raye, thatâs what it is!â She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. âYou canât be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.â
I donât hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. âShe wouldnât do something like that.â
âYou donât know that! Yâthink she canât be pillow talking someone else right now?â
I havenât even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isnât like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isnât who she is.
âYouâre still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isnât messing with someone else either?â Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. âYouâre thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.â
I do know better. Iâve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.
I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. âFucking hell.â I mumble under my breath.
âYou need to make a choice, babe. It canât be both, you know that.â
I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. âYeah, I know.â I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldnât have.
She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.
Then thereâs Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.
Iâm fucking screwed.
â
marayemusic
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â
June 2025 â Malibu, California
âTwo minutes is crazy, P.â
âShut up. Quit being nosy.â I responded.
We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.
âIâm not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.â Nika hums. Sheâs smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. âThose photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.â
âDefinitely not a girlfriend. Itâs complicated, Nik.â I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. âShe got a boyfriend.â
Nikaâs jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julianâs relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didnât think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.
âAre you being serious.â Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.
âOh yeah. Deadass serious.â
âPaige.â
âI swear itâs not my fault.â I shake my head in defense. âShe justâ itâs literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.â
Nika doesnât even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I canât help but laugh with her. If I wasnât in this position, I probably wouldâve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl whoâs in a relationship, and allegedly straight. Itâs truly comical.
âOh my God, youâre pussy whipped!â
âChill!â I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. âI havenât even had sex with her, Nik. This ainât what you think it is.â
She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. âYou know what this reminds me of?â Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. âThis reminds me of Nyla.â
I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. Weâd slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasnât that.
Maraye wasnât anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.
âThereâs been many other girls since Nyla, yâknow that right?â I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.
âEw, I donât need to know about your slut activities, P.â She brushes me off.
âYou asked!â I counter.
âMy point is, youâre letting yourself get in too deep again.â She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. âIâm not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I donât care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.â
My leg bounces soundly under the table. Itâs a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, weâre doing all that weâre doing while she goes back home to Julian.
âI can never figure her out.â I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. âI dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if Iâm jusâ a distraction for him.â
âYou caught feelings for her, didnât you.â
I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.
I think I do have feelings for Raye. Sheâs all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. Iâm searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs Iâm thinking that it doesnât sound like hers, or how someoneâs perfume doesnât smell as good as herâs does.
âI feel something for her, thatâs for damn sure.â I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. âI needa clear my head, Iâm never thinking straight when it comes to her.â
Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.
âWhat?â I ask.
âNot thinking straight. Get it.â
I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. âHa ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.â
âYou said it, not me!â The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. âAll Iâm saying, is that you donât deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.â
I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isnât the case. She isnât my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.
I donât know how to be second best. Iâve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether itâs basketball or anything else in life, Iâd rather be dead last than second best.
So to know that Julian is Marayeâs first choice, and Iâm forced to be second is fucking unbearable.
Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I donât know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasnât texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.
âP?â
âHmm?â
âYou good?â Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.
I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. âYeah, fine. Howâs recovery goinâ?â I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.
#sierrale8ne#kalenaâs works ৠâ§âË đ” â
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers smut#uconn wbb#la sparks#lesbian#my fic#40 days and 40 nights
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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 7
Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5017 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.
Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together.Â
But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.
Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.
However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.
Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?
~~~
T-minus 1 day until Echidna's War.
'All right, everyone!' Y/N called out to the group, forcing them to stop sparring in their pairs and look at her. 'That's enough for today. Go, shower and get ready for our feast. You deserve to enjoy this night before tomorrow.'
'Yes, Princess!' the warriors said in unison, then quickly dispersed, leaving the training grounds to head back into the city to prepare for tomorrow.
'You should get ready too, Princess,' Calliope said, looking after her sisters-in-arms chatting and walking down the stairs to their homes. Y/N's heart pulled at the thought that she'd never see such happy smiles again after tonight.
'In a moment, Calliope,' Y/N answered, looking around the remaining groups that were finishing up their drills. Her gaze fell on one particular acrobat who was teaching the group blocking techniques and some acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid an opponent. All the while doing so, Dick was smiling, encouraging the women to keep trying.
'He's not too bad,' Calliope said with amusement. 'For a mortal man, that is.'
Y/N turned to Calliope only to see a knowing smile on her friend's face. Only then did Y/N realise she was smiling stupidly wide, and made quick work to get rid of it. 'I guess so. But he's stupidly naive and impulsive. He'll get himself killed because of it.'
'Maybe,' Calliope said thoughtfully as she looked back at Dick for a moment before facing Y/N again. 'But isn't that how a true warrior should die? In battle fighting for what's right?'
Y/N didn't like the thought of Dick being clawed open or beheaded by monsters, so she quickly said, 'It's not his battle to fight in, though. He shouldn't be here.'
'But he is, Y/N,' Calliope insisted, coming to stand in front of Y/N so she had no choice but to make eye contact. 'And that's what makes him even braver. He's here helping us save our home; a home he had never seen until a few days ago; a home that has no connection to him whatsoever but he is here trying to save it.'
Before Y/N could protest, Calliope gripped Y/N's hands in a manner that was desperate and insistent. 'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'
Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. 'What are you-'
'Oh, don't play dumb with me,' Calliope interrupted. 'I see how you look at him. You're worried about him. Which means you care, despite everything you say to convince us otherwise.'
Y/N went to deny it but couldn't find the words to do so. Her heart was being torn in so many different directions any time she thought about Dick, she didn't know what exactly she felt for him. It was hard to put into words what he meant to her, the good and the bad.
When she remained silent, Calliope patted Y/N's hands gently then dropped them as she too walked away, leaving Y/N standing frozen in a battle with her head and her heart.
Y/N could've been standing there for one minute or an hour for all she knew, until someone waved their hand in front of her face and broke her from her trance.
'Y/N,' Dick said, his brows furrowed in concern. 'You okay?'
Y/N took a deep breath in as she came back to the moment. 'Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just...'
'Worried?' Dick offered, and Y/N was grateful for the change in subject. 'Well, I wouldn't be if I were you. These women are stronger than some of the heroes back home.'
Y/N raised a playful eyebrow. 'Only some?'
Dick chuckled. 'Okay, all of them.'
The two shared a quiet laugh, and it brought Y/N a sense of normalcy and nostalgia that warmed her heart.
She looked around as the remaining warriors finished their trainings and made to leave for their homes. Y/N could almost name each and every one of them, and there was the possibility that after tomorrow she would never see them again.
'Echidna is the one who should be worried,' Y/N said, her voice slightly shaky with anger and determination. She knew that if death were to come tomorrow, Y/N wouldn't be able to save them all. But she'd be damned if she didn't try to.
A warm calloused hand tentatively enclosed her fist, and the touch was enough to cease Y/N's shakes. 'I agree,' Dick said, two simple words seemingly echoing around the quiet training ground. His smile was smooth but genuine and Y/N could've believed they were eighteen again and back on the mainland and with the team. Back when his smile eased all her problems, back when Wally and all their lost friends weren't gone. Back when it was just them, and everything in Y/N's world made sense.
But now Y/N felt like she was on another planet, and they were about to go to war with the Mother of Monsters and nothing made sense anymore.
Y/N slowly pulled her had away from Dick's and cleared her throat as she stared straight ahead. 'We should probably get ready for the feast. Could be the last one we have in a while.' Or ever, she wanted to add, but Dick was an optimist and would ridicule her for thinking such thoughts and she really didn't want to keep talking with him.
'That's right,' Dick said, eyes brightening up at the thought of food. 'I bet you guys put on the best meals, as well.'
Y/N just rolled her eyes as they made their way across the training grounds to the stairs that would lead them back into town. 'A true boy. Only ever thinking about food.'
'A true girl. Turning every compliment into an insult.'
Y/N shoved him and he shoved her back and the two couldn't hold back radiant smiles. It astounded Y/N how easily they fell back into old habits. How familiar and safe Dick was.
'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'
Tell him what exactly? Y/N could hardly discern what mixture of emotions was running through her, let alone wheedle down to a specific point what her true feelings were for Dick. She'd been upset for so long, then angry at him. But the past three days he'd shown himself to be the Dick she'd always known and come to love. Kind, brave, funny, strong, compassionate.
It all lead her to a very confusing fork in the metaphorical road of her heart.
Even so, there was something she felt for him...
Just as Dick took a step down the stairs, Y/N found herself reaching out to him this time, bringing him to a stop with her soft grip on his shoulder. 'Wait.'
Dick looked over his shoulder immediately, his piercing blue eyes glued onto her with curiosity and wonder. 'Yeah?' he asked.
Y/N took in a deep breath, calming her racing heart as she said, 'I'm sorry.' When Dick only frowned with confusion, she elaborated. 'I'm sorry for doubting you. For being... well, I haven't been the most welcoming of people have I?'
Dick didn't say a word, but he turned fully around to face her, his face as serious as it was the other night on another staircase. Y/N's hand dropped to her side, and she found she could not look away from Dick's eyes as the words started falling out.
'I guess... I just didn't think you cared about us anymore,' she said. 'About the team, about me. And it made me so angry, but then you came to the one place I thought I could finally find peace again and I just couldn't accept that you were here for me. But I see now I was wrong.'
'No, I was the one who was wrong,' Dick said with a shake of his head. 'You had every right to be angry with me, in fact you still do. You were right, I was ignorant and only thought of my pain in those years I was away. I didn't think how coming here would affect you after everything I've done.'
Dick returned to the landing, now towering over Y/N, and took her hands in his and said in a gentle voice, 'I know I am far from forgiven, but I promise you, I will spend whatever time I have left on this earth trying to make it up to you.'
Y/N could hardly breathe with the way Dick was looking at her. It was almost dream-like, and suddenly all of her teenage emotions came rushing back into her bloodstream. The adoration, the awe, the love - it had remained all this time, she'd just repressed it in her time of pain and loss.
And it could've just been her, but something flickered briefly across Dick's face - the slightest arch of his brows, the minuscule twitch of his mouth. An emotion Y/N had no time to discern before Dick was the one stepping back and resuming his journey down the stairs, a careless smile on his face like the moment never happened.
'The showers await us, Princess,' he jested as he waved her after him. 'Wouldn't want to be late for the feast!'
Y/N stared after him for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He was serious, he would do anything to make it all up to her. And that look on his face...
Y/N shook herself out of her imagination. Probably just seeing things, she told herself as she followed Dick down the stairs. She wouldn't get her hopes up again.
Not for Dick Grayson of all people.
~~~
When Dick Grayson arrived back at his room, he drew himself a bath and allowed himself to relax if only for a few minutes. The first night in his room he'd been affronted to find a group of women ready to bathe him like a child. He'd argued with Y/N about them, her saying it was their tradition and all. Eventually she caved and dismissed the women from his room. He laughed at the memory, thinking beneath his own anger that she looked cute riled up.
There it was again - the thoughts he had never thought before.
He couldn't deny Y/N had grown into a beautiful young woman, one who stood by her values and always fought for the right thing. She'd stuck by the team when he couldn't, and for that he would always admire her.
But then again he had always admired her. That's part of the reason she was his best friend. She was this strong and loving individual that had always stuck by him and the others. She had the most infectious smile, and her laughter was like music-
Dick bolted upright in the bath, his heart racing at a million miles per hour as an alarming thought entered his mind. Do I like Y/N?
Well, it wasn't a matter of like. Of course he liked her, she was his best friend after all. But they'd never... she'd never implied...
He recalled when they were younger how many people - including their parents - said that he and Y/N would end up together. They were each other's better half, and honestly part of the reason he ended up breaking up with each and every one of his past girlfriends. Because they couldn't see how important Y/N was to him.
That didn't mean he liked her like that... did he?
Dick splashed his face one last time before leaping out of the bath to get ready for the feast. Maybe all the training he was doing was making him tired and delusional. After all, even if he truly felt that way for her, she'd never feel the same. Maybe once - though there was no telling so - but certainly not now.
However, they'd had a moment on the stairs this afternoon, and something felt... different. The way she looked at him had sent his gut rolling with something akin to a roller coaster, and the vision of her hair in the golden rays of sun had taken his breath away completely. Dick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way - completely and utterly entranced.
Dick dressed himself in the only set of clothes he'd come in and opened his door to find Calliope and other guards standing in the corridor.
'We are to escort you down to the feast, Mr. Grayson,' Calliope explained. 'By order of the Queen herself. You will be seated at their table tonight.'
Dick found this surprising as he usually sat with the soldiers of the group he'd trained that day, getting to know them and laughing with them. But he was to sit at the royals table, which consisted of Queen Hippolyta, some generals, and Y/N.
When they entered the dining hall, the feast had pretty much begun as hundreds and hundreds of women were already seated at long tables that ran almost from the door to the dais where the Queen sat chatting with other generals at their own long table. Dick made sure to greet any woman he knew as he was guided up to the royals' table.
'So nice of you to join us, Mr. Grayson,' the Queen said as Dick was seated.
'The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty,' he replied politely, then noted the empty chair between him and the Queen. 'Is Y/N not down yet?'
'She is usually late to these sorts of things,' the Queen replied defeatedly. 'She always fights with the maidens about her hair and dress. In that respect, she is very much her mother.'
As Queen Hippolyta turned back to the speak with the generals, a quiet voice leant in behind him and quietly said, 'Eager to see the princess are we?'
'W-What?' Dick exclaimed to Calliope. 'No, I'm not. I just... I'm just making conversation, that's all.'
'Whatever you say, mortal,' Calliope teased, her smile knowing and irritating as she remained by Dick's head.
He turned to her, annoyed. 'What do you mean by that?'
Calliope just shrugged. 'Nothing nobody doesn't already know.' When Dick just stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes and said, 'You cannot tell me you do not feel for our princess. Do you not?'
It was like she was reading his mind or something. It was a little freaky and off-putting. But Dick was used to off-putting questions - journalists used them all the time on him when Dick did press interviews with Bruce.
So he calmly sat in his chair and looked out to the busy hall in front of him. 'Well, I still have the bruises from our first sparring match when I first got here so I guess I do feel something because of the princess.'
Calliope chuckled and shook her head. 'Avoid the question all you want, mortal. But Truth always has an interesting way of making itself known.'
Dick didn't like her know-it-all tone, and so finally turned around and said in a quiet but hard tone. 'My relationship with Y/N isn't up for debate here. She is my best friend, and the only thing I'm interested in is restoring her trust in me and saving your island.'
'How noble...' Calliope started, but her attention turned to the opening of the hall's doors and so Dick's eyes followed. He was struck still at the vision he was met with.
It was Y/N, draped in a flattering arrangement of white cloth that was synched at her waist with a golden chain. Her H/C hair had been put up in a loose bun, held together by golden pins. Plain sandals covered her feet as she made her way towards the dais, the many bracelets and arm bands adorning her arms flashing golden in the firelight.
Dick knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. No one could it seemed, as Y/N greeted many women along the way, and whispers of her beauty echoed throughout the hall. When she drew closer, her eyes connected with Dick's, and instead of the cold or distant expression she'd given him since day one, she offered him an embarrassed smile.
That brief interaction sent his heart in motion. It reminded him of the time they had gone to prom in their junior year of school. It had been the first time Dick had seen Y/N with makeup and in a dress. She'd given him the same embarrassed look, and he had been just as transfixed.
Dick felt someone lean in to his ear as he continued to watch Y/N make her way to the dais. 'But are you sure there is no other reason that you are here?' Calliope finished with a whisper.
She stepped back into her position before Dick could respond, not that he knew what he would say anyway. His gut was rolling so much with indecision that he thought he might throw up.
He was brought out of his thoughts as Y/N took her seat between him and the Queen. 'Grandmother,' she greeted coolly.
'Y/N,' the Queen responded, a kind smile stretching her lips. 'You look beautiful, my dear.'
'Thank you, but I still do not understand why I must wear this to every feast we have,' Y/N argued.
'It is tradition, and you are Themyscria's princess,' the Queen explained, tapping her granddaughter's hand in comfort before returning to her previous conversation.
Y/N sighed in mild defeat as she sat back in her chair. After a moment, she clocked that Dick was looking at her and sighed again. 'Not a single word from you, Grayson.'
'I wasn't going to say anything!' Dick retorted, quickly collecting himself.
'I can see it in your eyes that you're going to laugh at me.'
It took Dick a moment to realise she wasn't joking. She fidgeted with the loose cloth that draped over her body, eyes flickering from him to the crowd and back. She genuinely thought she looked ridiculous. If he was sixteen still, maybe he would've made a comment or two.
But sixteen was a long time ago now.
'No, I wasn't,' he said, and his answer must've surprised him as she turned to him with a perplexed expression on her face. 'You look... You look beautiful, Y/N.'
Y/N's E/C eyes scanned over his face, possibly searching for any kind of lie or detection of amusement. But she obviously didn't find anything, as she smiled at him, her eyes shining with surprise. 'Thank you. I would offer you the same compliment, but you've looked the same as you did the day you got here.'
'Ruggedly handsome?'
'Hmm, I'd say a bit worse for wear.'
Dick let out a painful groan as he slapped a hand across his chest where his heart was encased under. 'Wow! Way to wound a guy.'
Y/N just laughed, and Dick joined her, genuinely happy to see her smiling as they used to together. Once the laughter died, he said, 'But seriously, Y/N, you look great. And... I'm just glad you're not calling me Nightwing anymore.'
'Well,' Y/N started, fiddling with one of her bracelets, 'I figured you deserved that much after all your help.'
Help. That's right. He was helping her save her new home and new family. It wasn't because she'd forgiven him and were suddenly best friends again.
'I'm sorry to interrupt,' a young girl said, coming to stand on the other side of the table. 'But I just had something to discuss with you, Princess.'
'Of course,' Y/N answered, turning all her attention to the girl. 'Go ahead.'
Throughout dinner, Y/N was kept busy by other conversations with warriors and young girls and teachers alike that all had questions for their princess. Y/N answered every single one of their queries with enthusiasm and grace, not batting an eye as she ate and spoke and listened.
She was a natural and a pro. The whole time she spoke, Dick couldn't help but think about the two years he'd been gone for and how many times Y/N had to soothe a fear, had to deliver a confident speech that would encourage the team to keep going no matter how bleak the future seemed.
It saddened and pained him to think he'd forced that responsibility onto her in his absence. But she'd done it, held the team together and she was doing that right now as well for her people.
Upon the conclusion of dinner, the Queen called for silence as she rose to address the hall. 'Evening everyone,' she started, her voice radiating composure and control. 'Tonight, we are in the presence of our own history in the making. Tomorrow, we face Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.'
The mention of the goddess sent whispers of fear rattling throughout the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the raise of the Queen's hand. 'I know some of you, if not all of you, are fearful of the coming events. Echidna is a foe that will not be so easily defeated. However, this is what we have trained for. This is what us Amazons are built for.
"Think of the young women, young girls and infants in their houses sleeping peacefully right now. Think of the women you grew up with, of the friendships and sisterhoods you have forged in those years. Think of the woman beside you now. That is who you fight for when Echidna comes. Not ourselves, but the women" - the Queen made a pointed look at Dick as she continued - "and man that reside on this island tonight. They will need you when the fight comes. So are you ready?'
The entire hall exploded with cheers and whistles of eagerness, and that brought a bright smile to Queen Hippolyta's face. 'In that case, enjoy tonight. Dance, eat, drink, sing. Be free.'
By the flick of the Queen's wrist, the band in the corner Dick hadn't seen started playing beautiful music and the tables were moved to create room for a dance floor.
'Princess, you must join us for a dance!' Some young girls came around the table and gently pulled Y/N from her seat, to which Y/N just laughed as she allowed them to drag her to the dance floor. Dick watched Y/N join the other women, watched her smile stretch wide and bright, watched her embrace and let herself go as she danced.
When was the last time she'd done that?
'...when we last spoke, she sounded like she didn't want to be found. That she would come back to us when she was ready...'
'Maybe she doesn't want to see you, have you considered that?'
Kaldur's words haunted him, had been since he left M'gann and Connor's house. He just hadn't taken his friend's warning seriously until now.
Kaldur was right.
Dick rose from his seat and quickly excused himself from the party, suddenly overwhelmed by the music and the full room. He escaped to one of the balconies nearby and was relieved that he could finally hear himself think. And yet now he could hear it all in the outdoor silence - the conflicting emotions and thoughts running through him.
Did she really belong here or back home?
Did he mean as much to her anymore as much as she meant to him?
What did he truly feel for her?
What will happen when Echidna strikes tomorrow?
So many issues and so little time to solve them all.
He didn't know how long he stood there, looking out over the mountain and ocean, over the flickering lights of those who feasted in their homes. It could've been hours, and yet the full moon barely moved.
'What are you doing out here?'
Dick was knocked out of his mind at the sound of the sweet voice, and he turned to find Y/N standing on the steps that lead back inside to the bustling party, an exhausted grin adorning her flushed face. With the firelight behind her and the moon shining onto her dress, Dick could've sworn she glowed divinely.
'S-Sorry?' he called out, confused as to why she was out there in the first place.
'I asked what are you doing out here all by yourself on such a beautiful night?' Y/N repeated, walking down the steps before making her way over to him at the balcony's edge. 'You're usually one for parties if high school was any indicator.'
Dick tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak cough. 'Yeah well, we're a long way from high school, aren't we.'
'What's going on with you?' Y/N asked, and Dick could feel her stare on him. 'You've been oddly... quiet this evening.'
'I just don't feel well is all. Don't worry I will be fine for the battle tomorrow.'
'That's a load of crap, Grayson and you know it.'
Dick didn't reply, just looked out over the ocean in the hopes that she would leave. But she didn't and Dick finally turned to meet her stare. It was like she was undressing him, but not in the physical sense. In the way she'd always been able to read him and say silently that she knew he wasn't okay.
That one stare made him feel more vulnerable than being naked, or doing flips off a podium twenty metres in the air with no safety net to catch him.
'I just... I've been doing some thinking,' he started, 'and I think that... if we both survive this... that you should stay here. On Themyscira. If that is what you want.'
Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'So... you're giving me permission to stay here if we all live through Echidna's war? Seriously?'
Dick turned to her fully. 'No, I mean yes- But no you don't need my permission to stay, I just... I'm sorry this is coming out all wrong.' He took a calming breath before starting again. 'What I mean to say is, I came after you for the wrong reasons. I was being selfish and stubborn. But I want you to be happy. And seeing you dance tonight with the other women... well, I can't remember the last time myself or any of the team brought you that kind of happiness.'
'What about your mission?' she asked, her voice distant, almost scared.
Dick flashed her a casual smile. 'Don't worry about it. I'll manage. I never should've come here in the first place. I'm sorry.' Dick gestured back to the stairs and started back-tracking towards them. 'Let's go rejoin the party while we still can, huh? You're right, I do love a good party.'
Just as he turned his back, Y/N called out. 'I'm not.'
He paused for a moment, then looked over his shoulder to find Y/N looking at him with an intensity that almost sent him staggering. 'What?' he asked.
'I'm not sorry you came,' she answered, taking a deep breath in to maintain her composure.
Surprised by her answer, Dick turned back to her. 'You're not?'
She shook her head, then started fidgeting with her dress and looked down. 'Am I angry you came? Yes, initially. Am I still hurting because of what you did, and is your presence just a daily reminder of that pain? Most definitely.'
That last one struck him deep. He had never wanted to be the cause of so much pain. Not to her of all people.
After another deep breath, Y/N finally looked up at him. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you.'
There it was again, that look she'd given him on the stairs earlier, in fact she'd given it to him many times before, he realised. Not just on Themyscira but back home, back when they were sixteen. It was the look of truth and honesty, of adoration and care.
His heart thumped so heavily in his chest he swore Y/N could hear it, and while he didn't understand what the thought of Y/N missing him implied, he knew how it made him feel.
'I missed you too,' he said honestly, returning to stand in front of Y/N. He didn't know why, but it felt right to reach for her hands, and she didn't push him away as he enclosed his fingers around hers. 'A-And being here has made me realise something else, too.'
'What's that?' Her breath fanned his face they stood so close, closer than what simple friends should. But he didn't care, it felt right, it felt natural.
'That I... I just...' He couldn't get the words out, they were so heavy with meaning they got stuck in his throat. Both afraid and excited to say them aloud, he couldn't decide what fate would be worse. Be honest and rejected, or be honest and see if she felt the same.
'You what, Dick?' she whispered, eyes never leaving his.
They both realised that it was the first time she'd called him by his first name since he'd landed on Themyscira. And if that wasn't a sign, then Dick didn't know what would be.
'I just...' Dick started, but a shadow crossed over Y/N's face and he quickly turned to find a a giant winged creature with fangs and a humanoid body reaching to him with its claws.
'Get down!' Dick cried as he turned and dove to the ground with Y/N. He felt the talons of the creature brush against his back as he partially covered Y/N out of natural instinct. The creature screeched as it soared high above again, disappearing into the darkness despite the moonlight.
'Are you okay?' Dick asked as he helped Y/N to her feet.
'Yes, I'm fine,' Y/N said, her eyes trained on the sky.
'What was that?' Dick asked, trying to spy the creature but there was no sign of it anywhere.
'That was a harpy,' Y/N answered, then her eyes locked on to something in the sky, her face paling with fear.
Dick followed her gaze and found himself frozen with fear himself. The harpy had come back but with more of its kind. Many more. So much so they blocked out the moon and engulfed the palace in darkness.
'Echidna's war...' Y/N breathed out in disbelief. 'It' has begun.'
---------------------
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#romance#angst#friends to lovers#slowburn#young justice dick grayson#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#young justice x reader#young justice#young justice imagines#wally west#kid flash#kaldur'ahm#aqualad#artemis crock#artemis#m'gann m'orzz#miss martian#connor kent#superboy#wonder woman#diana prince#bruce wayne#batman#dc x reader#dc comics#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing imagines
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I Love You But Do You Love ME?
Part 2 to The Love, I have Longed For
Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Tall Thick Brown-Skinned Women
Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing and Teasing), "drama", Fluff, Sensitive Topic
Summary: The After Math Of The Problems You Create.
A/N: There will be a part there as I did not want this too long, as always, to improve I would love constructive criticism. There also will be a part 3, which will be the final chapter or not?
*Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future writings.
Divider from @@uzumaki-rebellion
How could he cheat on me? We've been together for 4 years and married for 2. I gave him my early twentiesâŠhow could I be so dumb to believe he was differentâ. Estella cryâs into the arms of Amir in the parking lot of her home.
 âThat British buffoon, Fucked up something good for a few quick fucks with his co-star not being man enough to leave firstâ. He picks up Estellaâs head, making her look in his eyes, âHeâs gonna try to convince you to take him back back, don't, stand up to him and never lower your confidence for a man ever. Ok you are too beautiful and intelligent to do soâ. She nodded her head , agreeing with his statement. âOk, Iâm okâ Estella mumbled wiping her tears.
Days after, Estella goes to pick up her things while Aaron is at work.Â
 âNow let's get out of this car and pack up your things before that big - green eyed bastard child comesâ. They share a hug and a laugh then exit the car. As they walk to the door, a few cars pull out, her friends exit the cars. They walk up to her with a pity look, ready to help her pack her shit.Â
A few hours later they are in the last box ready to leave when Aaron pulls up in the driveway.Â
Getting out of the car, he recognizes the cars in the driveway, one being his wifes. He rushes to the door and up the stairs, trying to make it to his wife. Seeing him, everyone rolls their eyes, signin in unison that he's here, he walks up to her standing directly in front of her, seeing her disguised expression, his heart breaks a little, tears threatening to fall out his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, when she puts her hand up to stop him from speaking âThe audacity that you have to stand here in front of me after cheating on me with tears in your eyes when I should be the one crying. You made the drastic decision to cheat on me, for god knows how long, with your co - worker of all people. to put more salt in the woundâ.Â
Her face starts getting hot, but she takes deep breaths to calm herself down.
 âYou ..Said..You.. Loved..her, right after saying the bullsshit you said to meâ Her voice breaks.Â
âHoney..I..want to apologise, I regret what i didâ He gets down on his knees, grabbing her body close. â I love you with everything in me, ignore me, make me sleep on the couch but please donât leave me, I love you with everything in me. You are my heart, my soul, I donât know how to live without youâ Tears fell down his face. â Are you dumb or fucking stupid, which one quickâ, Estelle snaps her fingers pushing him off of her, âTo say that knowing you have been cheating long enough to exchange I love youâs is mentalâ, she turns to pick up her last box, to meet up with her friends. When she turns back around, he slaps the box of her hands âit was a simple mistake, your really going to leave me for it, baby I love please stayâ With tears still falling down his face, she picks back up her box ignoring him, and his foolishness. âIâll be filing for divorce in due time, I don't know when you will receive the papersâ before he could protest. She walks out, leaving him gripping his chest to calm himself down due to the best thing on earth walking out on him.
A few months later, She managed to find her own apartment to stay in and started to finger out how she's going to continue life without him. She filed for divorce and is now waiting for Aaron to sign the papers. In the house that they once shared, the doorbell rings and he goes to open it. âAre you Aaron pierre? The strange man questioned leaving Aaron confused âyes, may i help youâ aaron questioned confused âYou have been servedâ Aaron takes the papers from the man watching him walk down his driveway, getting into his car driving away. Aaron locks the door, walks to his living room, and sits down with one thin thigh over the next, while he opens the orange envelope, reading it to realise that itâs divorce papers.
 He clutches his chest, as the room starts spinning, he squeezes his eyes closed, bending over into the couch, forcing himself to take deep breaths which slightly works as he feels a sharp pain in his chest every time he inhales. After a few moments he manages to calm himself down, tears dripping down his face like he's been holding them in for years. He takes the papers and throws them into his garbage.Â
She texts him âDid you get the divorce papersâ âI have received it, they are not getting signed thoughâ Aaron texts back. âBe soo for real, how about we meet up at the diner on kingston st and discuss this because I'm tired of talking to youâ. âOk, I love youâ. She leaves him on read, making him wipe his face, and walk up to his room to lay down.Â
âCan I have the 10 wing combo with honey garlic and extra sauce on the side?â Estella said to the waitress, who wrote her order down âThank youâ she said to the waitress, who walked to the kitchen. Feeling disturbed, she looks up from her phone and seeâs Aaron staring at her. âCan you put down the phone so we could have a civil conversation?â Aaron mumbled to Estella, which she obeys to. âYou're right, so who's getting the house and I would like to terminate our shared financials. You also need to sign those papersâ.Â
âNo, I want my wife backâ Estella opens her mouth to speak but the waitress comes by with their food. âThank youâ Estella said to the waitress, sighing âCan you not do this right now, let's figure out what we are going to do with our financial situation first before you start with your bullshitâ. Time goes on and they settle out their situation breaking their agreement and leaving Aaron with the house, which he ends up selling.Â
At the end of night Aaron pays the bill and Estella rushes out before he could say another thing. They settle out their situation, breaking their contracts and leaving Aaron with the house, which he ends up selling.Â
6 years had passed making Aaron and Estella are now 30 years old.The diner was the last time Aaron saw Estella in person. Due to her being absent, not knowing where she is and what her new life was like. He moved on, went to therapy and started putting his focus in the gym, getting bigger roles and being healthy. Â
Estella on the other hand, moved to another state, finished law school, while enjoying motherhood to the fullest.
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âthanks, lucy gray.â he doesnât deserve this kindness, but it means the world to him to know that she believes he can still be a good man. a good brother. âitâll take time, but iâll make things right between joe and i. weâll be brothers again.â smiling softly at lucy gray, he canât help but admire the way she looks in this light. the little deer on her sweater only adds on to her overall charm. heâs tempted to reach out and twirl one of these shiny ringlets around his fingertip, but refrains. âhowâs your headache? are you feelinâ better now?â he asks, suddenly reminded of her terrible hangover. âoh, thatâs huge! iâm so happy for her, glad she ran that disgusting man off and is a business woman now.â a girlboss. thatâs how his friend, tom, would put it. âdo you have any pictures of the stuff she makes? next time iâm home, iâm definitely stoppinâ by her shop.â and buying something for his apartment, of course. âplease, i still have the sweater she made for me when i was sixteen.â itâs a little tight around the shoulders now and the sleeves constantly ride up his forearms, but itâs got too much sentimental value and he refuses to throw it away. âwhich one? wait, are you seriously tellinâ me that one of our babies is a mom now? i refuse to believe that.â but he laughs, thereâs nothing but happiness in his eyes as he listens to lucy grayâs sweet voice. âa food fight? maude ivory? that little angel?â he shakes his head in amusement, trying to picture that. âabout me? hm, letâs see⊠oh, i bought a motorcycle last summer.â because the traffic in new york city is just insane. âcharlie, my ex-roommate,â does she remember him from those pictures heâd shown her all those years ago? âand his girlfriend are having a baby.â the showerâs in two weeks and he almost asks her if sheâd like to go with him, but reminds himself that he has to take things slow. besides, blair will probably be there, too. it might be rude and awkward if he comes with a friend. âwhat else?â he smiles, blues meeting these pretty fawn eyes that never fail to make his heart melt. ânot much, really. iâve been busy with that TV show. youâd love that set and the costumes and horsesâŠâ
âwell⊠you could say that. but the fact youâre sayinâ that means you are beinâ a good older brother now.â lucy gray softly points out, if heâs thinking like thisâ that means he feels guilty and if heâs guilty, he has a conscience and a heart after all. deciding to say this because she feels bad for him, even though heâs brought it all on himself and hurt each of them. âhmm⊠lemme think on it.â she replies, smiling gently as she continues to look at the city passing them by before the smile starts to widen brighter, âmama opened her own sewinâ shop. itâs goinâ real great and sheâs enjoyinâ it. she makes quilts, shirts and all sorts of thingsâ course she did that before, but now sheâs makinâ money at it. one of the horses had a baby. and maude ivory almost got detention for startinâ an almost food fight at her school.â lucy gray chuckles as amusement starts to etch across her face, thinking all of that is pretty new information he probably doesnât know anything about. âwhat about you?â she wonders, turning her attention back on him, fawn eyes flickering up on his face.
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Home in the Madness
summary: In the heart of a chaotic hideout, surrounded by machinery and unfinished projects, a makeshift family finds comfort in each other.
Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader
Wordcount: 1.4k
Authors note: Im feeling real low but writing about Jinx and Isha brings me serotonin.
masterlist
The hideout was as chaotic as ever, filled with the constant hum of machinery and the unmistakable scent of burnt metal. It was the kind of place that could make anyone feel lost in the mess, yet here, in the middle of it all, there was something beautifully grounding about the way you, Jinx, and Isha existed together. The walls were covered in graffiti, the floors cluttered with half-finished projects, but in the midst of the madness, there was a familyâan unspoken bond that ran deeper than the wreckage of the world around you.
You sat beside Jinx on the floor, her warm, electric energy radiating off her, drawing you in like a magnet. She was showing Isha how to assemble a small gun, her hands moving with practiced ease, but it wasnât just the task at hand that made your heart race. It was the way Jinx looked at you when she thought no one was watching, her eyes softening just for a moment before she went back to her usual chaos.
She was yours in a way no one could ever understandâwild, unpredictable, and impossibly charming. You were more than just partners; you were a team, and in this makeshift family youâd created, the love between the two of you was undeniable. Jinxâs playful touches, the way she leaned in just a little closer when explaining something to Isha, the light teasing in her voiceâit was all wrapped in layers of affection that only you could truly see. You knew her better than anyone, her quirks, her flaws, her genius, and above all, the love she had for you.
âOkay, kiddo, you see these parts?â Jinx said, her voice playful and energetic as she held up a small metal piece. âThis is the trigger guard. We gotta be careful with it, alright? If you mess up, itâs not a âboom,â but itâs still a pop thatâs gonna sting.â
Isha nodded seriously, her wide eyes focused on Jinx, hanging on every word. âA pop,â she repeated, her voice almost a whisper as if speaking too loudly might ruin everything. She took the metal piece in her tiny hands and studied it.
You watched her, your heart fluttering as she gently guided Ishaâs hands. You couldn't help but smile, loving the way her energy filled the space, making it feel like home.
Isha looked up at you both with wide, eager eyes, clearly trying her best to mirror everything Jinx was doing. âLike this, right?â she asked, holding up the piece of metal like it was the most important thing in the world.
You leaned in, your hand brushing against Jinxâs as you offered a gentle correction, your fingers tracing the outline of Ishaâs little hands. âJust a bit to the left, like this,â you murmured, looking at Isha with the kind of softness that only came when you were with them.
Isha's eyes sparkled with determination as she followed your instructions, her little fingers carefully holding the pieces together. She glanced up at you, then over to Jinx, looking for approval.
âLooking good, kid!â Jinx chimed in, leaning closer to inspect Ishaâs progress. Her voice was as encouraging as it was teasing. âYouâre gonna be the best gunsmith in the Lanes at this rate.â
Isha beamed at the compliment, a proud smile spreading across her face. She tightened her grip on the parts, adjusting them ever so slightly before her hands froze. âAm I doing it right?â
âPerfect,â you reassured her, leaning in to gently guide her hands into place. âYou just need a bit more pressure on the side here, like thisââ
Just as you finished the sentence, Sevika's low, almost inaudible chuckle broke through the stillness of the room. You glanced up and saw her sprawled across the couch, arms crossed, eyes watching you three with a calm amusement. She didnât seem to mind the chaosâshe had gotten used to it long agoâbut you could tell she was enjoying the scene. There was something comforting in seeing the whole family together, in its own disjointed, chaotic way.
âAre you sure teaching her to make guns is safer than bombs?â Sevikaâs voice was laced with dry humor, but there was an underlying affection in the way she watched over you all. She didnât often show it, but her eyes softened whenever she saw you and Jinx together, especially with Isha.
Jinx let out a mischievous giggle, leaning over to poke you in the side. âHey, I didnât think Isha needed to make any big explosions just yet.â She shot Sevika a look, her grin wide and full of playful challenge. âGotta start small, right?â
Sevika raised an eyebrow, giving a half-smile as she pushed herself up from the couch, walking over to where you, Jinx, and Isha were. âYou two are going to turn her into a walking arsenal, arenât you?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Jinx replied with mock innocence, but there was a flicker of pride in her voice. âJust showing her the basics. Gotta be prepared, right?â
Youâd never imagined a life like this, especially not with Ishaâyour heart swelled as you realized just how much she had become part of your world. Over the past few months, she'd grown on you, not just as Jinxâs sidekick, but as your little girl. She was smart, fierce, and sweet in ways that surprised you. It didnât matter that she wasnât technically your child; she was family, your child. You loved her fiercely, like you loved Jinx.
Isha proudly held up the completed gun, a wide grin on her face. 'I did it!â she declared, her voice full of pride and excitement.
âPerfect!â Jinx cheered, her voice full of pride as she high-fived Isha. You could see the joy in her eyes as she ruffled Ishaâs hair, her usual carefree grin softening with an unexpected hint of pride.
You smiled at her, the love for this little girl bubbling in your chest. âYou did amazing, Isha,â you said softly, pulling her into a quick hug. âIâm so proud of you.â
Your eyes met Jinxâs for a moment, and there was a softness there, something you hadnât seen in a while. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a soft kiss. In that fleeting moment, the world fell away, leaving just the two of you. You could feel her wild affection for youâuntamable and pure. She was more than just Jinx, more than the chaos. She was yours, and you were hers. The bond between the two of you had grown so strong, woven through with every shared look, every touch, and every moment spent together, even in the madness.
As she pulled away, her fingers lingered on your hand, her thumb tracing the lines of your palm in a soft, intimate gesture. There was a glimmer of something deeper in her eyesâsomething that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that said everything without saying a word.
âLove you,â Jinx whispered, her voice quiet but steady. You could feel the weight of those words, how much she meant them. She didnât need to say it often; you both knew.
âI love you too,â you replied, your voice just as soft as you gave her hand a gentle squeeze.Â
You leaned back against the wall beside Jinx, your hand instinctively finding hers. In that simple touch, you realized that, amid all the madness, this moment felt like home. There was something so natural about it now, like the two of you were always meant to be here, in this messy hideout, teaching Isha how to make guns. You and Jinx were in love, but it was more than that. It was a deep, unshakeable connection that made everything feel like it had meaning, even in the chaos of the Lanes.
Jinx grinned, her heart clearly swelling with affection for the girl who had become part of the fabric of her world. âSheâs gonna be unstoppable,â Jinx said with a laugh, her eyes meeting yours once more, this time with something even deeper than mischief. Something that said, without words, this is home.
Sevika snorted, shaking her head. âDonât get any ideas, Jinx. Iâm not cleaning up after all the disasters you two are going to cause.â
Jinx winked at her, her fingers still intertwined with yours. âNo promises,â she teased. But there was warmth in her voice, a depth to it that spoke volumes.
You, Jinx, Isha, and Sevikaâsomehow, despite everythingâhad become a family. It wasnât a traditional one. Hell, it wasnât even close. But in the chaotic, unpredictable world you all lived in, it was more than enough. And as Isha held the gun frame proudly in her hands, a bright smile lighting up her face, you realized that thisâthis chaotic, loud, beautiful familyâwas everything you needed.
#jinx arcane#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#arcane jinx#jinx/you#jinx x fem!reader#jinx posting#jinx league of legends
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ITâS NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLEâS LOVE LANGUAGES.
p â MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g â humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w â swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.
requested by â @gluion âgo kill yourself x âiâm pretty sure they have a crush on meâ
note â part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.
myung jaehyunâs friends are pretty sure heâs had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.
âstop staring at me, you fucking creep.â
âsorry, i didnât mean to make your heart flutter. canât help it when youâre so pretty.â
âiâll stab your fucking eyes out.â
âmy eyes are all yours, pretty.â
so they canât wrap their head around why heâs acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world thatâs ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. âshe wants me so bad,â he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.
âwhat...what makes you say that?â sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why heâs so convinced that you feel the same way.
âhuh?â jaehyun perks up. like heâs genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. âshe was so flustered earlier. couldnât you tell? it was adorable.â
âshe threatened to mutilate youâŠ?âÂ
jaehyun beams. âshe sure did.â
there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. âhyung, what the hell?â he raises. âif telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies mustâve been head over heels for me.â
a silence. a pause. âweâll unpack that later,â sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. âyou. youâre a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just canât keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i canât help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!â
admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friendâ who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.
âsungho-yah,â jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. âthereâs no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. iâm telling you, she likes me back.â
speechless.
in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.
so, reasonablyâ they call for backup.
âthe only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,â taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why theyâre all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. âdo you guys know when heâs planning on doing that?â
âno idea,â leehan answers. âbut maybe we can pressure him into it.â
âso, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?â sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. âgod, thatâs gonna be tough.â
a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. âi donât get why youâre all going against jaehyun-hyung!â he yells indignantly. âlet hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys canât dictate his love!â
âheâs received fuck youâs straight in the face and swears sheâs flirting, woonhak. youâre too young to understand.â
itâs four votes against one. woonhak canât win against his hyungâs determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that heâd been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never shouldâve went. he never shouldâve shot down jaehyunâs suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.
but this is not the time to lament and regret. itâs time for sungho to right his wrongs. itâs time to bring jaehyunâs self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection.Â
which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.
âwhat?â
âweâre going on a date.â jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sunghoâs ears are starting to ring. âthanks for the encouragement, sungho!â
itâs ringing. itâs ringing so badly. âwait, what do you mean youâre going on a date?â he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind ofâŠproud? this guy actually succeeded? âshe said yes? she didnât tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?â
âshe did. she looked pretty while saying it.â jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho âshe also told me sheâd kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. weâre going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.â
sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyunâs guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?
a thought enters sunghoâs mind.
hold on a secondâ
âanyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.â
âwhat if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?
oh my god.
âwait!â sunghoâs face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. âdonâtâdonât go on the date!â
âhm?â jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. âoh! donât worry. iâm not gonna show up looking like this. iâm gonna head home first to change.â
âthatâs not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!â
this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. thereâs still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. heâs gonna tell the rest of them because thereâs no way in hell theyâd allow myung jaehyunâs cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyunâs lifeâ but his dignity as well.
âremember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they canât figure out weâre here.â
hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. âhyung, is the khao soi good?â
âyeah, we should order it.â
âwhat drinks should we get?â
this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.
no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round headâ
âhuh.â
the back of a very familiar round head that doesnât seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.
sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyunâs fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. âyouâve got something on your face.â
âtouch my face, and iâll kill yâ hey!â
first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like youâre attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyunâs head looks exceedingly happy. the dots arenât connecting. sungho is malfunctioning.Â
âshouldâŠshould we interfereâŠ?â leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.
âi think...i think we should just leave them alone.â
âbut isnât his life in danger?â
âi misunderstood.â
forget misunderstanding. sungho canât even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldnât even try so long as myung jaehyun is happyâ happy with being on the receiving end of fuck youâs and go to hellâs in response to his youâre so prettyâs and see you tomorrowâs, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really canât just wrap his head around.
ITâS NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLEâS LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.
#ship dynamics: insane edition#myung jaehyun x reader#jaehyun x reader#myung jaehyun fanfic#jaehyun fanfic#boynextdoor x reader#bnd x reader#boynextdoor jaehyun x reader#bnd jaehyun x reader#boynextdoor scenarios#bnd scenarios#bnd jaehyun scenarios#boynextdoor jaehyun scenarios#bnd imagines#myung jaehyun imagines
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