#i might make one for each of the outsiders (that i can watch the pov of at least)

[krowfangs]

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Almost, Always - Chapter 13

paige x azzi

Previous chapters: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

A/N: I know... I'm a day late here, but I've hit some writer's block on where to take this next so I've been sitting on it hoping for some inspiration. This is a bit of a filler chapter, but hopefully you'll feel fed a teeny bit before this weekend! Don't count on any updates until next week, sorry...

WC: 2.6k+

Chapter 13: Cookies...

Azzi POV

She could still taste the cookies.

Not the chocolate chip ones Paige brought over like they hadn’t just nearly killed each other on national television. No, those were warm and gooey and slightly underbaked—the way Azzi liked them, obviously. Paige knew what she was doing. That was the thing. She always knew what she was doing.

But that wasn’t the cookie Azzi was still tasting.

It was the other one. The kind that had her legs still a little shaky, her throat a little dry, and her sheets in need of a good wash—or maybe just retirement altogether. The kind of cookie that made her eyes flutter shut mid-thought just remembering how Paige’s mouth had moved—slow, deliberate, like she was making up for lost time. Or like she thought she might not get the chance again.

She rolled over in bed, the morning light already slipping in through the blinds. The spot beside her was empty now, but the imprint of Paige’s body still lingered in the sheets, just like her scent—vanilla and sweat and something that always, always made Azzi feel at home.

Last night had been… a lot.

The kind of a lot that made her brain short-circuit when she tried to piece it all together. Paige had shown up with that crooked smile, those ridiculous cookies, and eyes that said I love you. 

She’d seen that look before. Azzi let her mind wander back to a different, simpler time. 

It had been a weird kind of winter. The kind where time slowed down but your thoughts didn’t—where everything outside kept moving like normal, but you were stuck in pause.

Both of them were sidelined—Paige with her ACL, Azzi with yet another knee injury. The rehab schedule was brutal in its own right, but the real drain came from the silence. The waiting. The not-playing.

Azzi had claimed the dorm common room couch that night, her leg propped up in the bulky, humming compression sleeve that wrapped around her knee like a cold, clingy ex. The air pump clicked rhythmically as it inflated and released, over and over, steady like a metronome.

On the TV? Some random nature docuseries. Bears in the Arctic or something equally irrelevant. She wasn’t even watching it. Not really. Just letting it run. She couldn’t stomach watching the game that night. Couldn’t watch her teammates run up and down the floor while she was stuck here, wrapped in neoprene and frustration.

“Didn’t peg you for a wildlife girl,” Paige said as she appeared beside her, holding two Gatorades and a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos like they were gourmet offerings.

Azzi didn’t flinch. Paige had a way of appearing without warning, like her body just gravitated toward Azzi’s orbit on autopilot.

“I needed background noise that wasn’t ESPN,” Azzi muttered, not taking her eyes off the screen as a polar bear dug into a snowdrift. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Paige handed over a Gatorade without a word and eased down onto the opposite end of the couch, leg stretched straight out in front of her, the brace on her knee still locked in place. She winced a little as she shifted, then settled.

They sat in silence for a while. The kind that was only comfortable when it was them.

Eventually, Paige spoke—quietly, eyes still on the screen. “You looked pissed earlier. Like, real pissed. When I saw you leave practice.”

Azzi sighed. “It’s just… frustrating. Being in the gym but not in it. Watching everyone else do the thing you love, and all you can do is walk in a straight line and hope today’s the day your knee stops clicking.”

Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”

She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to. They were both living the same limbo.

Azzi finally turned her head, eyes dragging across Paige’s profile— in one of those giant hoodies she never took off with her blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard bun like she’d stopped caring halfway through. 

And when Paige looked back, something in her eyes shifted.

There it was—that look. Something Azzi hadn’t seen her use on anyone else. Not teammates. Not fans. Not even the cameras she knew so well. It wasn’t just soft—it was singular. Like Paige had an entire look saved just for her, tucked away behind all the bravado and sarcasm she handed out to everyone else. It was quiet and steady and undeniably hers—a kind of gentle that didn’t ask for anything in return, that just was. And the way it landed on Azzi… it didn’t feel performative. It didn’t even feel like comfort. It felt like recognition. Like Paige saw every ache, every fracture, every bit of Azzi trying to be strong—and loved her more for it.

Like she saw Azzi hurting and didn’t want to fix it—just wanted to sit in it with her.

“You know you’re not alone, right?” Paige said, her voice low, almost hesitant. “I mean… you don’t have to be.”

Azzi blinked. “I know.”

They looked at each other a second too long.

Paige reached for the remote and muted the TV without breaking eye contact. The room fell into a hush. The only sound was the quiet hiss of Azzi’s rehab machine.

Paige’s fingers brushed Azzi’s hand—barely a touch. But it was enough.

And in that quiet, half-lit room, surrounded by static and snow bears, Azzi felt something shift. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft click, like something inside her had lined up without trying.

She didn’t know what it meant then. Not fully.

But she knew this: Paige looked at her like she mattered. In a way no one else did.

And nothing had been quite the same since.

Azzi stretched out like a cat, immediately regretting it as her thighs screamed in protest. Not from practice. Not from game two. From Paige.

She smirked to herself. “So that’s how she says sorry now,” she muttered, flopping back onto the pillows.

In her defense, the foul had been egregious. The elbow to the ribs and the forearm to the chest sent Azzi straight to the floor like a cautionary tale.

“I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” she had said last night, voice low, eyes apologetic, hands not-so-innocently creeping under Azzi’s hoodie.

“Damn, I knew you were competitive, but body-slamming your girlfriend? Wild.” Azzi had shot back, but she wasn’t exactly pushing her away. In fact, she’d leaned in. Let herself sink into the familiar warmth of Paige’s touch like her body remembered something her brain was still sorting through.

But they hadn’t talked. Not really. Not about the photo. Not about the video. Not about the silence.

What they had done was close the gap between them in the oldest way they knew how—fast hands, shallow breathing, a lot of whispered are you sure’s and I missed you’s, tangled up in the spaces where words used to be. It was easier that way. Safer.

But now, in the bright clarity of morning, Azzi couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation they still hadn’t had. About the way Paige’s eyes had lingered on her afterward, like she wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.

They had another game to prepare for. Another battle in this short, brutal series. And as Azzi really thought about it—laying there in the quiet of her room, Paige’s scent still clinging to her sheets—she wasn’t sure when that conversation would actually happen.

Because one of them would be moving on soon. One of their seasons was about to end. And whichever way it went, it wouldn’t be fair to pull focus. Not now. Not with everything on the line.

So for now, the words would have to wait.

The feelings? Not so much.

Azzi finally peeled herself out of bed, limbs still a little sore in that satisfying, post-win, post-Paige kind of way. The apartment was quiet, the early D.C. light pouring in through the slats of her blinds, washing everything in soft gold. She padded barefoot into the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied in a loose, haphazard bun.

The silence was peaceful—not empty. Like the air still held the echo of last night’s laughter, soft sighs, and tangled limbs. Her muscles ached in ways she didn’t mind. Her heart? A little steadier than it had been in weeks.

She reached for the coffee grinder, instinct kicking in. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted breakfast yet—just needed something warm to anchor her. As the beans started to hum and rattle in the machine, her eyes flicked toward the living room—and that’s when she saw it.

Paige’s hoodie.

The gray one with the faded USA Basketball logo and a slight tear in the collar—the one Azzi had tried to steal half a dozen times in college. It was draped over the back of a chair like it had been left on purpose. And maybe it had.

Azzi walked over slowly, drawn in without realizing it. Draped across the chest of the hoodie was a small folded piece of paper, tucked into the collar like a secret.

She hesitated only for a second before picking it up.

Her name was written in Paige’s handwriting—messy, left-slanted, ink a little smudged.

She unfolded it carefully.

Azzi,

Just in case you woke up and wondered if last night was real — it was. I’ll take the foul if it means I get to make it up to you like that again.

You were unreal out there. You were insane last night. Like, straight-up unfair. I had the best seat in the house, even if you did kinda cook me.

There’s still a lot we need to figure out. But I’m not scared of it anymore. Not if you’re still choosing this. Still choosing me.

See you back in Dallas.

Try not to miss me too bad.

—P 

Azzi read the note again, a breath catching in her throat at that last line. Try not to miss me too much.

“Menace,” she muttered under her breath. But she was still smiling—helplessly, stupidly, like her body didn’t know how to do anything else anymore when it came to Paige.

She reached for the hoodie without thinking, hands slipping into the sleeves like it was muscle memory. The fabric was oversized and worn in, soft in that way only old clothes and steady love could be. It still smelled like her—vanilla, gym sweat, a hint of something warm and unmistakably Paige.

Azzi pulled the hood up, tugging it over her bun like armor. The hem hung low on her thighs, brushing against bare skin as she moved back toward the kitchen.

Wrapped in it, she felt stupidly safe. Like the night hadn’t ended. Like Paige had never left.

She flipped on the stove, cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, and leaned against the counter, watching the whites sizzle and spread. The note was still sitting there beside her coffee mug, folded and soft at the edges now, like it already belonged to her.

Back in Dallas.

She could still feel Paige’s hands on her hips. The scrape of her teeth against Azzi’s shoulder. The sound of her laugh muffled into her neck.

Azzi exhaled slowly, the kind of exhale that meant okay. I’m in this.

Game three was coming. So was everything else. The conversations, the questions, the spotlight.

But wrapped in Paige’s hoodie, Azzi felt like she could breathe through all of it.

She didn’t say it out loud—not yet.

But she was ready. _____________________________________________

Paige POV

The flight was quiet in that way early morning flights always were—just enough hum from the engine to lull you into your thoughts, not enough chaos to drown them out. Paige had her hoodie pulled up, legs stretched long under the seat, and a travel-size pack of cookies open on the tray table, mostly untouched.

Not Azzi’s cookies, obviously. These were dry, sad, clearly baked in a facility that had never known joy. Or butter.

But still. It made her smile.

Because the real ones? She’d baked them herself—slightly underbaked on purpose, the way Azzi liked, gooey in the center, golden at the edges. She’d shown up to Azzi’s apartment with a box of those and a heart in her throat, not totally sure what to expect. And then…

Well.

They hadn’t talked much.

But they had talked. In their own way. In a language made of hands and mouths and maybe’s whispered into collarbones. Of laughter caught between kisses, of Azzi arching up into her with something that sounded a lot like forgiveness.

And the hoodie had been left on purpose.

She could picture Azzi in it now—hood up over that messy bun, sleeves swallowed past her hands, walking barefoot into the kitchen like the night hadn’t ended yet. Paige imagined her reading the note she tucked into the collar, that little smirk forming slowly like molasses, like, yeah, okay, you still got me.

The thought warmed her.

For the first time in weeks, Paige felt like she could breathe again. Like the coil inside her chest had finally unspooled. She wasn’t overthinking. She wasn’t bracing for the next headline or rehearsing what she’d say if Azzi pulled away again.

Because she wasn’t pulling away.

She had let her in.

Paige could still feel the weight of Azzi’s hand on the back of her neck. Could still hear her say stay, just stay a little longer like it wasn’t even a question.

And that was enough.

Game three was coming, sure. Someone was going to win and someone was going to go home, and it was going to hurt no matter which way it landed. But Paige wasn’t worried about them anymore. Not like she had been.

They weren’t broken. Not even cracked. Just paused. Just bent around the pressure for a minute, the way all good things do when the world tries to press in too close.

But now?

Now they were coming back to themselves.

Paige leaned her head against the window, watching clouds blur by in soft waves. The sun was starting to rise over the wing, casting everything in that peachy, golden light that made the world look softer than it probably deserved to be.

Her phone was still on airplane mode, tucked into the pocket of her hoodie, but she didn’t feel the usual itch to check it. She wasn’t spiraling. Wasn’t scanning the news cycle. Wasn’t wondering if Azzi had changed her mind in the two hours since she’d kissed her goodbye.

She was just here. Floating somewhere between cities and certainty, stomach full of cheap airline cookies and something dangerously close to joy.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew they still had stuff to work through. But for the first time in weeks, that didn’t scare her. She didn’t feel like she was holding on by a thread anymore.

They were good.

They were them again.

And Paige? She was already thinking about what she’d say when she saw Azzi next. Already planning which song she’d add to their shared playlist. Already wondering if she should just pack the ring in her gym bag and carry it around like a secret lucky charm.

Because if there was one thing she knew now, deep in her chest where the doubt used to live—it was this:

Azzi wasn’t running.

And Paige had never been more sure of anything.

She smiled to herself, letting herself lean back in and settle in the chair, and let the hum of the plane carry her the rest of the way home.

Everything was falling back into place.

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @pro-weems-places @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @fictionalized-lesbian @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @http-sam @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @niceminipotato @thevillagegay @barbarasstar @lilfartbox1 @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @daydream-cement @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @ilovetlcc @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @jadewolf22 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens-wife

[frostdayz]

its you in my dreams i find

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: angst (mwuahahahha I will die on this hill but angst is so much better than fluff)

summary: Aegon is betrothed to his sister but his heart belongs to someone else. With his wedding only mere seconds away he goes to find you just to see your face one last time. (time jump included)

wrds: 2.63k

note: I saw this one quote on twitter and I just had to use it. Anyways so this has 3ish parts? The story + aegon and readers pov when they see each other again I made them different so it can also be little stand-alones! Enjoy :)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Today, Aegon would wed his sister, cementing alliances and securing the Targaryen bloodline. The air was filled with the sounds of celebration, but my heart felt heavy with sorrow.

I slipped away from the festivities, making my way through the labyrinthine corridors of the castle. My feet carried me to a secluded chamber where Aegon and I had often met in secret, away from the prying eyes of the court. It was here that we could be ourselves, if only for a brief moment.

When I entered, he was already there, his regal attire a stark contrast to the vulnerable expression on his face. He looked up as I approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain.

"Y/N," he breathed, closing the distance between us. He took my hands in his, holding them tightly as if he could anchor himself to me in the storm of his duty.

"My love," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He nodded, his grip tightening. "I know. But before I walk down that aisle, I needed to see you. I need to remind myself of what truly matters."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at him. "You do not have to do this. We could run away, leave this place behind."

He shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "You know I cannot. My duty to my family and the realm binds me. But my heart... my heart belongs to you."

I choked back a sob, the reality of our situation crashing down on me.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear. "You are mine, Y/N. In every way that matters, you are mine. This marriage is a formality, a duty. But my love for you is real, and it will never be changed."

I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes to savor the warmth of his hands. "I can't bear the thought of you with her. Your sister is kind but I cannot fathom the thought you bedding another woman."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I won't be. Not in the way you fear. My heart, my soul, they are yours. Always."

For a moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the closeness that would soon be taken from us. The world outside could not touch us here, in this stolen moment of love and loss.

"I have known you since we were children," Aegon murmured, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. "You are a part of me, Y/N. This throne compares not to you or this out of body feeling I have when your eyes meet mine. What we have is something people look for all their lives.

I clung to him, my heart breaking with the knowledge that this might be our last meeting. "Promise me you'll never forget."

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes with an intensity that took my breath away. "I promise. You will forever be tethered to me and I to you."

The sound of distant bells reached our ears, signaling that the ceremony was about to begin. Our time was running out.

"I have to go," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But know this, Y/N: When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find."

With one last lingering kiss, he turned and left the chamber, leaving me alone with my sorrow. I watched him go, my heart shattering with every step he took.

As I made my way back to the shadows, I clung to his words, finding strength in the love we shared. We were star-crossed lovers, bound by fate and duty, but our love was a flame that could not be extinguished.

And though the path ahead was filled with heartache, I knew that as long as I held onto his promise, I could endure anything. Aegon might be bound by duty, but his heart was mine, and that knowledge would sustain me through the darkest of days.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Readers pov:

Years had passed since I last saw Aegon. The world had moved on, and so had I, or so I told myself. Life in King's Landing was unpredictable, but I had found my place in it, working at a modest inn and living a life free from the court politics and royal intrigues.

One evening, as I laughed with a kind man who had become a close friend, I felt an inexplicable pull. The inn was bustling with activity, filled with the noise of patrons enjoying their evening, but suddenly, it felt as if everything had quieted. I glanced towards the entrance, and there he was.

His presence was unmistakable, even after all these years. He stood in the doorway, his fine clothes setting him apart from the crowd. But it wasn't just his appearance that drew my attention; it was the look in his eyes. A mixture of surprise, longing, and sadness.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Memories flooded back—our secret meetings, the stolen kisses, the whispered promises. All of it came rushing back in a torrent of emotion that left me breathless. But as I looked at him, I realized something had changed. He was still Aegon, but there was a heaviness about him now, a burden that he carried with every step.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The noise of the inn faded into the background, and all I could see was him. But then I remembered where we were, who we were. He was a king now, married to his sister, bound by duty and responsibility. And I was a part of his past, a chapter that had ended long ago.

I forced a smile, turning back to my friend, trying to push the memories aside. I laughed at some sill story he has told 100 times, though I didn't hear the words. I could still feel Aegon's gaze on me, a tangible weight that pressed down on my heart.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him take a step forward, as if he intended to come over. My breath caught in my throat, a part of me yearning for him to close the distance, to bridge the years that had kept us apart. But then he stopped. I saw the conflict in his eyes, the war between his heart and his sense of faithfulness to the crown.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his crown pressed down even harder. He watched me for a moment longer, his eyes reflecting a world of unspoken words and lost dreams. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.

I felt a tear slip down my cheek as I watched him go, my heart aching with a mixture of love and resignation. Aegon had chosen his path, and I had chosen mine. Our lives had diverged, and though our love had been real and deep, it was now a memory, a beautiful, bittersweet memory.

My friend noticed my silence and gave me a concerned look. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

I wiped away the tear, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought for a moment."

He nodded, accepting my answer without pressing further. As the evening wore on, I tried to push thoughts of Aegon aside, focusing on the present, on the life I had built for myself. But deep down, I knew that a part of me would always belong to him, just as a part of him belonged to me.

And though our love had been strong, it was now a whisper in the wind, a memory that would forever linger in the corners of my heart.

And so, I laughed and smiled with my friend, cherishing the moments of joy and companionship that life had given me. But every now and then, when I lay down for bed and closed my eyes, it was Aegon I saw in my dreams, a reminder of a love that could never be, yet would never fade.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Aegon's pov:

I often found myself lost in thoughts of Y/N, the woman who had stolen my heart and whose absence left an unfillable void. The memory of her was a constant companion, a nostalgic reminder of what could never be.

The day had started like any other, filled with the mundane and the ceremonious. My friends, eager to lift my spirits, convinced me to join them for a walk through the streets of King’s Landing. The bustle of the city was a welcome distraction from the confines of the Red Keep and the duties that awaited me there.

We strolled through the market, the vibrant colors and the mingling scents of spices and roasted meats filling the air. The sound of laughter and chatter was a stark contrast to the solemnity of the court. As we turned a corner, my heart suddenly lurched in my chest.

There she was, Y/N, standing at a vendor’s stall, examining a piece of fabric with a smile on her face. She looked radiant, more beautiful than I remembered. Time had been kind to her, and seeing her now, happy and carefree, was both a joy and a knife to my heart.

She was not alone. Beside her stood a man, laughing at something she had said. The sight of them together was a sword to the heart. I felt a surge of jealousy and sorrow, emotions I had no right to feel. She had moved on, found happiness in a new life, and I was a mere shadow in the new world she made for herself.

My friends continued their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. I watched as the man leaned in closer to Y/N, his hand resting on her arm. She laughed again, the sound a melody I had longed to hear for so long. But it was not meant for me anymore.

I knew I should turn away, leave her to her happiness, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Every fiber of my being wanted to rush to her, to hold her and tell her that I had never stopped loving her. But what right did I have to disrupt her life? She deserved happiness, and if this man could give her that, then who was I to interfere?

“When I lay me down for bed, you're always on my mind; and when I close my eyes and sleep, it's you in dreams I find,” I murmured under my breath, a silent reminder of the words I spoke to the woman I love from the last moment we met.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to step back, to let go. My friends were moving on, and I needed to follow. But as we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Y/N was still laughing, her eyes shining with a light that had once been reserved for me.

As painful as it was, seeing her happy was a balm to my soul. Knowing that she had found joy, even without me, gave me a strange sense of peace. Our love had been real, and it would always be a part of me, but it was time to let her go.

Back in the confines of the Red Keep, I found myself standing on the balcony, staring out over the city. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the rooftops. I thought of Y/N, somewhere out there, living her life, and I whispered a silent prayer for her happiness.

“I will always love you, Y/N,” I said softly to the wind. “But I’m glad you’ve found your own path.” A soft smile lingering on my lips.

As the first stars appeared in the twilight sky, I made my way back inside. Y/N would always be in my heart, a cherished memory, and knowing she was happy was enough to carry me through the darkest of days.

[rxmqnova]

Hey! Just a cute one, Nat has Liho.

Yn joined the Avengers and she has a cat too, a orange one(Liho is a black one) [so for all I saw on tiktoks or Twitter is like the oranges one can be more affectionate I don't know if that is true or not.]

So Yn's cat(you can write a name) always was near Liho but It was a surprise for Natt that her cat wanted another cat around her.

Wanda being the good friend she is, she talked to Nat saying that the relationship between the cats reminds her of her and Yn, being so differents but they were perfect for each other. So you know, yn and Nat watched a bit the cats and then Nat told her about it and asked her on a date.

Different, but perfect

NO ONE'S POV "Look at that Foxy, now we're officially Avengers" Y/N says excitedly, petting her cat behind ears.

She's finally moved to the Avengers compound today and is more than excited to start her new life as an Avenger. It has always been her dream to become one of the Avengers and be able to help other people. And it's finally happening.

Y/N watches with a smile as her cat walks over to her new friend Liho, a black cat that belongs to Natasha. It's kinda funny how Foxy and Liho are similar to their owners.

Liho is more of a loner, she doesn't really like anyone besides Natasha. Most of the time the cat is somewhere out of sight and alone. Kinda like Natasha. The redhead joins the team if she needs to, but she's happier in the gym on in her room where she has time to think and has no one around.

On the other hand, Foxy is such a friendly cat who loves human touch and is more than happy when someone's petting her. Y/N is also very friendly, loves to be around people and her absolute favorite thing is cuddling.

Who would say that absolute opposites like Liho and Foxy could be such good friends. But you know what they say… opposites attract.

"Oh, there you are. I've heard you also have a cat, so I just wanted to tell you that Liho's not really fr…" Natasha stops when she sees her cat happily playing with Y/N's.

"I think they like each other actually" Y/N smiles, glancing at Natasha before looking back at the two happy cats.

A little shocked Natasha sits down on the ground next to the newest Avenger, watching their cats play. What shocks her even more is that both cats make their way over to Y/N, wanting her to pet them which Y/N happily does.

———

Over the weeks Y/N's spent on the compound, Liho's behavior towards Foxy hasn't been the only surprise.

Liho grew to like the new Avenger quite a lot. And to be honest, Natasha did too. She often finds herself thinking about Y/N or finding every opportunity to spend time with her.

Anything like this has never happened to Natasha before and she has no idea what to do. If she should just admit how she feels, or if she shouldn't say anything? What if Y/N doesn't feel the same?

Of course, Y/N does. She loves spending time with the redhead. But she is absolutely clueless and doesn't see the way Natasha looks at her. She's noticed Natasha's nicer to her than she is to the others, but she thinks it's just because she's new here.

"I don't know, Wanda. We're completely different. I don't even think she feels the same way" Natasha sighs, taking a sip from her coffee.

The redhead's currently in the kitchen, talking to Wanda who's the only one who knows about Natasha's feeling for the newest Avenger. Everyone else is either somewhere around the compound or somewhere outside. Y/N went out shopping this morning, so Natasha doesn't have to be worried she would hear her conversation with Wanda.

"Look at it from a different point of view. Look at Liho and Foxy. They're so different and yet they won't make a single step without each other" Wanda starts, pointing at the two cats that are walking around together. "Just like you and Y/N. You two might be different, but you are perfect for each other"

"But what if you're wrong? And she's just being friendly?" Natasha asks unsure, making Wanda roll her eyes playfully.

"Nat, I see the way she looks at you. She definitely likes you. Just ask her out and you'll see I'm right" Wanda says confidently.

"Hey, guys! What are you up to?" Y/N smiles brightly, stepping into the kitchen with a few bags, some filled with clothes and some filled with food.

"Hi there. We're just talking. But you seem like you had a successful shopping day. What you got?" Wanda asks with a smile.

"Well, I got some clothes. I especially love the cute dress I got. And I stopped for groceries, cause the fridge is nearly empty… again" Y/N says. "Oh, and I got some treats for the cats" She smiles, taking out the cat treats and showing it to both girls. "Foxy and Liho are gonna love it!"

"I'm sure they will, детка" Natasha chuckles at Y/N's excitement, watching as Y/N's cheeks turn red on the name she called her. (baby)

"Well, I'll go to give them some" Y/N informs, quickly walking over to the cats and petting both behind ears, hoping Natasha hasn't noticed anything.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you two here. Go get her" Wanda says just for Natasha to hear, winking at her before turning around and walking out of the room.

Natasha takes a deep breath before standing up and walking over to Y/N and the cats, taking a seat next to the girl.

They just watch their cats for a bit, eventually petting them behind ears until Natasha finally gets the courage and starts speaking.

"Wanda thinks the cats are like us" The redhead blurts out on which Y/N tilts her head in confusion.

"Well… I mean, kinda I guess" Y/N shrugs, not understanding Natasha's point.

"What I meant to say is that they're completely different, but they're such good friends" Natasha explains, receiving a hum in response. "Just like us… Y/N, I don't know how people do it. I'm trying to tell you I like you" Natasha sighs. She's never confessed her feelings to anyone and it seems harder than she thought.

"Y-you do?"

"Yes. I… I was hoping that maybe you would go out with me? Like a date?" Natasha asks nervously, waiting for an answer.

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She's been imagining this moment for so long and now when it's finally here, she's too shocked it's actually happening.

"I'm sorry, just forget I asked" Natasha says after no response from Y/N, bringing her back to reality.

"No, no. I-I like you too. I would love to go on a date with you, Nat" Y/N quicky catches Natasha's hand, stopping her from standing up.

"Really?" Natasha better asks to make sure, receiving a warm smile and a nod back.

"Of course, going on a date with you would make me the happiest girl on the entire world"

----------------------

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong part 2

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 5499

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: After Y/n's accident on her mission, her mother's are terrified that they might not get the chance to make things right with their daughter. That's assuming Y/n wants anything to do with them when she comes around.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Nat's POV:

It's been over 24 hours since Y/n came out of surgery and she's still unconscious with a machine helping her breathe. I thought she would have been awake by now and there'd be a relief that she was on the start of her long road to recovery.

Instead, Wanda and I are glued to our seats next to her bed. We've only gotten up to use the bathroom. Otherwise, we've remained by her side. Pepper kindly offered to take the boys for as long as it's needed. Though they are both very anxious to see Y/n themselves. They might be young, but they understand that she's hurt. They love their sister, and they want her to wake up just as much as we do.

I've not slept since we found out that she was hurt, and I don't plan to until she is awake. Though the longer it goes on, the more my body is fighting against that desire. I want to be there when she wakes up to show her that her moms are going to be there for her the whole way through her recovery.

Wanda and I have spoken a lot over the last day. We've shared our pain and sadness, whilst making sure we come up with a plan to help her with her recovery and to ultimately gain her forgiveness.

We both know that Y/n will not forgive us easily, if at all. But that doesn't mean that we're not going to try with everything in us. For too long we've allowed her to go about her life thinking that we don't love or care for her anymore. She has every right to feel that way after how we've treated her. But she will not ever question that again.

The both of us are sat in silence, both of us watching over our daughter. My eyes are trained on her chest, making sure that she is still breathing, gaining a lot of comfort from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. However, the silence doesn't last long until the door flies open.

Out of instinct, both Wanda and I shoot up from our seats and take a defensive stance in front of our daughter to protect her from any danger. However, we soon relax when we see Yelena's worried face. "I came as soon as I could." She tells us as she moves closer to the bed, her hand hesitant as it reaches out towards her niece.

Yelena has been away for most of the time over the last few years. She's been helping to find all the widows and has only come back for a couple of days at a time. Each time though, she has always made time for us. "How is she?" She asks, as I pull up another chair for my sister.

"It's not good. She's still in critical condition. They had to remove part of her liver, but Cho reckons that if she can get through these first few days, that she'll be on track for a full recovery." I fill her in as her eyes never leave Y/n. "Clint said that it was a double agent that set her up." She states and we nod in clarification. "I'll be paying a visit to Fury when I'm done here." She announces, an anger to her voice. "We've tried to see him, but Fury won't let us anywhere near him." Wanda warns her but Yelena just scoffs. "I'll get to him one way or another." She states and I believe her. She's incredibly protective of the people she loves, and she'll want to make sure that he pays. I actually hope that she does.

"Wait, you said you were with Clint?" I question her and she nods. "Yeah, he was with me on my last mission. He's waiting outside, he didn't want to intrude." She responds, pointing towards the window behind her where Clint is stood with a young girl next to him. "Who's with him?" I ask. "Kate Bishop. Clint's stray. He's going to see if she can join Shield." Yelena explains. "She was with us and had no where else to go so I said she could stay here for now." She adds on. If Clint thinks she's worthy of Shield, then I believe that she is. She must also be good if Yelena has been working with her. She wouldn't let anyone help who would slow her down.

"How long are you back for?" Wanda steps in with her own question, making my own ears prick up for her response. "As long as I need to be. I want to be around to help with her recovery." Yelena replies, making me smile. Y/n is going to need all the help she can get, and she adores Yelena, so I'm glad that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

After a while, we indicate for Clint and Kate to come in. We go through our introduction, and I can see how enthusiastic Kate is. She's very chatty and I'm surprise she's not pissed off Clint and Yelena yet though! "I read about Y/n in the Young Initiative files." Kate shares. "Did you know she is the only recruit to ever get a perfect score. She could have passed the exams two years ago and still topped the class." She tells us enthusiastically. "Sounds like you're a fan." Yelena teases her, making the young girl blush. "I guess when your parents are the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch, you're going to be good." Kate chuckles.

It makes my gaze drop, something that Yelena clocks on to instantly. She's not been around so hasn't seen how we've treated Y/n. I'm actually worried for when I tell her. She's going to hate us for it and I'd be surprised if she even lets us stay around Y/n. "Y/n did it all on her own. With a little help from Steve. Her talent has come from her own ability and desire to be the best." Wanda corrects Kate, showing that we have no claim to how good Y/n is at being an agent. "Oh, that's even more impressive then. You must be really proud." She smiles at us and we both nod. "More than she'll ever know." I mutter.

__________

When Kate and Clint leave, Yelena is quick to question Wanda and I. We tell her of what's been going on and how ashamed we are and how much we want to be able to fix everything. "You don't deserve to fix it." She spits angrily at us. "It's no excuse to say that you got lost in the boys. Y/n is your daughter too and she needed you." She shouts, calling us both out on our actions. "We know Yelena. We can't take back how we've treated her. But I promise that we won't every do anything like that again!" I tell her sincerely. "No, you won't. I won't let you. If you are going to be back in her life as the parents you should have been, you have to be all in. You promised to be better than we had Natasha!" She tells me firmly with a finger jabbing into my chest.

"I know Yelena. I wish I had a valid excuse or reason for what we did. I will never forgive myself. I will always have a hatred towards myself for ever making her feel the way we did. But I'm not going to wallow and hide away from it. I want to own up to the mistake and try and fix it. I know that it's not going to be an easy fix, but I will stay here and face the brunt of the anger and pain that she's feeling because I will not give up on her. Not again." I tell her passionate. "Neither of us will. I promise you Yelena, we will do everything in our power to fix this." Wanda steps up and adds her own promise, taking my hand. At least we have each other through all of this.

Yelena doesn't speak, she just looks between the two of us, her chest heaving with anger. It's intimidating to be the one on the receiving end, but we deserve it. I'm glad that Yelena is here. She simple nods her head and that is the subject over with. For now.

That night, my body ultimately wins, and I end up getting a couple of hours sleep. Though it's full of nightmares that I can't seem to escape and then when I wake up, I'm terrified that Y/n will be awake already and I'll have missed it. But when my body wakes with a jolt, I'm met with my sleeping wife and still unconscious daughter.

I stretch out and move closer to the bed and take Y/n's bruised hand in my own. "I can't lose you. You are my daughter, blood or not and I love you so much. I know I haven't shown that to you and there is no excuse for that. I also know that you have every right to never forgive me. So, my only request, is please wake up. Please survive. I don't think I can live in a world without you in it." I plead with her. Hoping that somewhere in her subconscious she can hear me. I squeeze her hand, hoping for any response, but nothing comes.

The day goes by slower than usual. That is until Cho comes in to check on Y/n and gives us the good news that she should be able to breathe without the ventilator now. Wanda and I step outside as we watch through the window. We're holding on to each other tightly as we watch. "This is good. She's strong and this is the first step to her waking up." Wanda speaks. I can hear the hesitation in her voice, showing that she is trying to convince herself more than anything. "You're right. She is so strong. I know she's going to wake up soon." I add on, smiling at my wife.

Cho soon joins us with a smile. "She's doing well. She's now breathing easily on her own. I expect she'll wake up within a few hours. I'll be back to do a full examination then so we can assess her injuries." She informs us. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Hopefully it won't be long until our daughter is back with us.

The next couple of hours seems to drag by. Clint, Yelena and Kate all paid another visit but left to try and sort a room out for Kate in the compound. Steve was then the next to join us, taking a seat at the end of Y/n's bed. It's a long wait until we finally see a twitch to Y/n's eye.

I'm the first to my feet, leaning over to see if I had imagined the small movement. "Y/n, honey. It's mama. Can you hear me?" I ask her, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. With a flutter, her blues eyes lock on to mine. "She squeezed my hand." Wanda says excitedly. "Baby, we're here." She tells Y/n, who's got a confused look in her eyes.

"You're in the medical wing sweetheart. You got shot on your mission." I explain to her. "S-t-Steve." She stutters out. "He's fine. He's here." I reassure her, waving for Steve to come closer. "Hey kiddo. Boy we're glad to see you awake." He tells her with a relived smile. One that she returns. "I'll got and get Dr Cho." Wanda states, quickly leaving the room. "T-the m-mission." Y/n starts but Steve is quick to stop her. "Is not to worry about right now. Just know it wasn't your fault. But we'll explain it when you're doing better." He tells her, earning a nod. She reaches out her hand to Steve and he instantly takes it. "You're not allowed to scare us like that again." He chuckles, his voice wavering.

"S-sorry." She replies, her eyes fluttering again. "It's ok sweetheart. Don't fight it if you want to sleep again." I tell her softly. She doesn't really acknowledge me, but she does seem to listen as her eyes flutter shut once again.

They don't stay closed for long though, soon woken up by Cho as she comes in with a wide smile. "There's my favourite patient." She smiles at Y/n, who grins in return. "I bet you s-say that to e-everyone." Y/n responds through a struggled chuckle. "But with you I actually mean it." Cho winks, before looking over Y/n's chart and obs.

She takes the time to explain Y/n's injuries to her and the plan for her recovery. I see her face drop when she realises she's going to be in the hospital for at least another week before being on strict bed rest when she's discharged. "I'll be around if you need anything or have any questions. So please get one of the nurses to get me if you need me. That goes for all of you." Dr Cho offers. "Thank you. For everything." I tell her sincerely. She gives me a tightly smile before turning on her heel and leaving the three of us too it.

With Cho gone, it's silent in the med bay as Wanda, Steve and I just watch over Y/n. She is struggling to keep her eyes open, but I can see a pain in them when they lock on to mine. "You should get some rest kiddo." Steve speaks up as Y/n nods in return. "W-will you s-stay?" She asks, making Steve smile widely. "Of course." He returns, moving to get another chair to sit with us. At that confirmation, Y/n seems comfortable enough to let her eyes close and for sleep to take back over.

It's almost agony to see her asleep once again. We've been waiting for so long for her to wake up, for her to be asleep so soon is tough. I almost want to start apologising and showing her that we're going to change and it's going to stick. But I don't want to overwhelm her. At the moment, her recovery is the most important thing. As much as I hate it, earning her forgiveness will have to wait.

"Now she's awake, you two should head to your apartment. See the twins, eat some proper food, and get some sleep. I can stay with her." Steve offers, but I'm quick to decline. "I don't want to leave her." I tell him, whilst gripping her hand tighter, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form. Steve lets out a sigh. "She'll be asleep for a while, and she needs you both on top form." He tells us.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Wanda smiling warmly at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had moved from the other side of the bed. "Steve's right. We've been here for days. If we want to do what's right by Y/n, then we need to look after ourselves as well." She speaks sense.

With a huff I stand from my seat and lean forward to press a kiss to Y/n's head. "We'll be back later sweetheart. I love you so much." I tell her softly then move so that Wanda can say goodbye too. With one last look to our daughter, we both reluctantly leave. Though I smile when I see Steve move closer and take Y/n's hand in his own. Although I will forever regret how we have treated Y/n, I'm glad that she has had Steve there for her.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that was not how I wanted my first mission to go. I wanted to impress everyone, not end up in the med bay with part of my liver missing! Waking up was a weird experience. Seeing my parents' faces were the last thing I expected to see. They seem genuinely worried, but that was probably all a front for everyone else. They can't be seen to not care about the daughter they've ignored for the last few years.

When I wake up next, I see Steve smile down at me. "You're still here." I say and he nods. "Of course. I wanted to make sure that you're ok." He replies, making my own smile grow. I look around and my smile drops when I see that my moms aren't here. I can't hide that it hurts a little that they didn't stick around. But I shouldn't care about that. They haven't cared about me.

"Should have guessed they would go once I woke up." I complain, wincing as I try to adjust myself in bed. "Careful Y/n/n." Steve scolds me as he shoots to his feet to help adjust my pillows. "I told them to go." He admits and I look at him with a frown. "Not like that. But they have not left your side since you were brought in. They weren't looking after themselves and if they are going to help you through your recovery, they need to be at 100%" He explains but I just scoff.

"I don't need their help with my recovery. They didn't care before I was hurt, they don't get to care now." I groan. Steve takes his seat again and looks at me with his, "I know I'm right" look. "Y/n. I know you don't believe it, but they do care for you. They were cut up when you got hurt. They were devastated that they wouldn't have the chance to be able to make things up to you." He says. I roll my eyes, but he continues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive them. But you can't question how much they have cared for you over the last few days."

"Fine, but I'm not going back to their place to recover." I huff, folding my arms. "Considering you've been shot and in a medically induced coma for the last few days, it's good to see it hasn't affected your attitude." Steve teases.

We sit in silence as I think about my parents. They surely can't think that just because they've been sat beside my bed whilst I've been hurt is going to make up for everything that they have done over the years? Who's to say that they won't go back to how they were once I'm healed? I have a place at Sheild now. Somewhere that I can make a name for myself and create my own family.

"I'm sorry I messed up the mission." I break the silence, my mind now moving on to the fact I failed at my first mission. "You didn't fail anything kiddo. We were set up. If anything, I should apologise to you. They were after me, but you were the one to get hurt. You did a great job of take on as many agents as you did." He explains, taking my hand in his. "You fought, and it's because of your skill and ability that you're alive. You impressed everyone." He assures me, running his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

Our moment is broken when my moms walk back in. "You're awake!" Mom says excitedly as both her and mama move into the room quickly. Steve moves back from my side, which I frown at as mama takes my hand in hers. I'm quick to pull it away. The hurt that flashes across her face doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not in the mood to pretend like everything is ok right now.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asks, appearing to my left. "I'm fine." I respond shortly, receiving a warning raised eyebrow from Steve. "Are you in pain? I can get the nurse to come in and get you some pain killers." Mom fusses. "I'm fine." I repeat the same words. "That's not true, you've been wincing since you've woken up." Steve rats me out. Traitor. "If a 40 calibre bullet went through you, I'm sure you'd be wincing too." I snap. "Told you. Amazing how your attitude hasn't changed." Steve chuckles.

However, both my mom's look at me with worried looks. "I'm going to get Dr Cho. You look pale." Mom worries before rushing out the room.

Mama reaches forward and places her hand on my head, which I quickly try and move away from her touch. "You're hot. I hope you're not running a fever." She states. "Like you care." I mumble, but she hears it and that look of hurt appears on her face again. "Look Y/n. I know you believe that we don't care or love you. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I want nothing more than to talk to you about it and start to make up for everything. But right now, all that matters is your recovery. You can hate us and ignore us or yell at us, but we are not going anywhere." She states firmly, her eyes locked on to mine. I just roll my eyes and turn to look at Dr Cho who has walking into the room.

She checks me over and I notice the frown on her face. "What's up?" I question. "I'm worried about your temperature. I want to run some tests, but with the inflammation to your incision, I'm worried you've got an infection. It's nothing to worry about as we've caught it early. But we'll need to keep a close eye on you." She replies. "So, no discharge yet then." I huff.

Cho chuckles and looks up from my chart. "It's funny you think you were close even without this infection." She teases. "Aren't you meant to be nice to me? I'm a patient after all." I pout. "If I'm on good behaviour, can I get out early?" I plead. "Maybe in a week. But you'll be on strict bed rest and need to be cared for. You're still technically a minor." Cho breaks the news and I know exactly what she's getting at. "But I'm 18 in like 4 days! Besides, I literally got shot on a mission for Shield. Surely that's enough?" I argue.

"Y/n, you are going to struggle to walk, let alone be able to properly look after yourself. Even after you're 18, you'll need support during your recovery. It isn't a simple road ahead for you." Dr Cho returns. "So, what are you saying?" I get straight to the point. "I'm recommending that you are discharged to your family. You'll be in the compound so if anything goes wrong, you can get the right medical attention straight away." She explains. "Really? There are no other options. Can't I stay with Steve or something?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"Y/n, come on. It's what is best for you. Your moms will be there to help. I'll be away on missions so can't give you the care you need." Steve speaks up, but soon shrinks back as I glare at him. "Really, what makes you think that I'll get the care I need at home?" I growl, my anger building. "Y/n..." Mama starts but I cut her off. "No! You can't just stand there and act like the caring parents when you have done nothing to back that claim up. I've been the forgotten daughter for years! Slowly I have been pushed out this family and now you want me to just act like everything is ok and trust that you'll look after me?!" I yell, that frustration finally finding its way out.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. Your heartrate is getting too high." Dr Cho tries to calm me down. "Kiddo. You're ok. You need to give them a chance." Steve tries to reason. "A chance like I was given? I've practically raised myself these last few years!" I snap. Why is he suddenly defending them?!

"Please sweetheart. You're going to make yourself sicker. We want to be there for you. We're not denying how badly we've treated you. But I promise that it will never happen again. You'll be safe with us. We just want to be able to care for you and help you get to full health." Mama speaks, her eyes filled with tears. I look between her, and mom and I see that she's almost inconsolable. "Do I have a choice?" I sigh, turning to Cho. "Technically, yes. But physically, you won't be able to follow through with it." She breaks the bad news. Suddenly the sounds of my heart monitor becomes noticeable so I lie back and take a couple of deep breaths. I can feel all their eyes on me, and I let out a sigh. "Fine whatever." I respond. I just need to do everything that Cho tells me so I can heal as fast as possible and move back to Shield and start my life again.

__________

The next few days are not fun. My infection hit me pretty hard, and I spent a lot of time either sweating or freezing whilst fighting the urge to throw up. I hate being stuck in this bed and I just want to be healthy again and being able to go on missions. Before it went south, I was loving it. Even if it was just a small one.

I'm also finding it hard that my mothers are suddenly around all the time. Mama is much better at not smothering me. Mom on the other hand, she is always fussing. But that's her and I used to love it when I was younger, when she actually cared about my wellbeing. "Wands, she's already said she has enough pillows." Mama sighs, her own frustrations growing. "Yes, sorry you did." Mom apologises, slowly putting the pillow down she had in her hands.

"Can I get you anything else? Some food. Though the food here is pretty horrible. When you're back home, I'll make sure to cook you something tasty with the food you're allowed to eat." She starts to ramble. I'm not going to lie, that does sound amazing, and I'd kill for a bowl of paprikash right now. I remember when mom taught me how to cook it. It was one of the last memories I have of us spending quality time together.

I don't realise I'm smiling until I see both my parents looking at me warmly. I quickly shake it off, not wanting to let them think that I'm enjoying this in the slightest. "You know what. A sandwich would be good." I say, taking them both by surprise. I've not been very talkative, but I could do with a break right now. I know I won't be able to get rid of both of them, but I can at least take a break from mom fussing.

"Of course. I'll go and make you something up and bring it down. The bread is always dry here." She speaks, grabbing a couple of things and turning to leave. "Maybe I'll check with Cho if you could have a smoothy." She mumbles, making mama chuckle as she leaves.

I let out a breath of relief. I feel slightly less suffocated. But I am still very aware of mama's eyes boring into me. I'm used to her being quiet. She always observes, making her conclusions before talking when it's necessary. But seeing her now, it feels different. I'm pretty good at reading people and I can tell that she is lost in her own thoughts. I've only seen her like it a couple of times before and it's been after particularly difficult missions. Ones that bring up bad memories for her.

I grab the TV remote and try and find something to watch. I end up with Rizzoli and Isles on. I don't really watch it, but the sound is helping to break the awkward silence. Just after they break the case in the show, I notice mama sit more upright in her seat.

"When I found you in Hydra, I knew instantly that I wanted to help you. There was something about you that melted my heart. When we found out that you had no family to return you to, it wasn't even a question, I knew I was going to adopt you. In that short space of time, I had spent with you, I grew to love you." She starts. I don't look to her, my focus on the TV.

"Even though you had been through so much, you had this happiness around you. You were grateful for everything and found the joy in the smallest thing. I just wanted to give you a life that you deserved. When I married Wanda, I was so happy that I could give you two loving parents." From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile tearily as she picks at the skin around her fingers.

"I failed you Y/n. When I adopted you, I promised that I would be the best parent to you. That you would never want for anything. What's worse, is I never even noticed what I was doing. What we were both doing. I've always prided myself on being able to read people, but I couldn't see the damage I was doing to my own daughter." She continues, pain evident in her voice.

"I wish I could go back in time to change how we acted with you. To include you fully with the twins, to support you in your work in the Shield Programme. To show that even with the boys, you were loved and an integral part of this family. All I can do is apologise and promise that we are not going to let that happen again." She finishes, finally look up to me, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's been years. We're not just talking about a couple of months here." I speak up, still not able to lock eyes with her. "Steve became more of a parent for me than the two of you." I admit, and that seems to make mama's heart break a little more. "Is it because I'm not biologically yours and moms?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Mama is quickly to her feet and takes my hand in between both of hers. "No. Of course not Detka, and I will forever hate myself that I've allowed you to think otherwise." She tries to reassure me, a panic in her eyes. "I wish I could give you a reason for why we acted like we did. Initially, it was because we were so focused on the boys, but after that, I have no idea. I wish I could pinpoint why, maybe it would make this all easier. I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you as much as those boys. Blood doesn't matter to me. You are my daughter as much as they are my sons. I know and feel that through every fibre of my body." She expresses. The sincerity is evident in both her voice and facial expressions. "Saying sorry isn't going to fix this. You only knew what you were doing because I called you out on it. Had I not gotten shot, would you have made any effort to rectify what was wrong?" I question her, my anger growing.

"We wanted to. We were planning on taking you to breakfast to talk and work out a way that we could make things right with you. But you had gone, and we couldn't get to you. You have a lot of people at Sheild that love you." She chuckles humourlessly. That is true. Maria is like an aunt to me and her and Fury happily kept my room allocation secret, "Look, I know that we don't deserve your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean that we are going to stop trying." She states firmly.

"It's not that simple mama. I have learnt to live without you now and I've got my own place with Shield. We can both move on with you getting your perfect biological family and I get the career I want." I say, but that only makes mama cry more. "No, our family is only perfect if you are in it too!" She almost shouts, but she's quick to calm herself down. "Look, we've got to live together through your recovery, let's just see how things go after that ok." She proposes. "Fine, but I can't promise anything will change." I respond and she nods. "I know. But I'm going to try everything to earn your forgiveness." She comes back with a newfound confidence.

We fall back into a silence, one that feels more comfortable. Mama looks less stressed, but her brow is still furrowed. When mom returns, the quiet is broken again, despite mama trying to get her to calm down. I try not to smile when she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I miss this caring side of my parents so much. But for me, it's too little, too late.

Part 3

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 7

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

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Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Previous

Chapter 7: Breaking Point

Y/N’s POV

It’s been, what, two weeks since I last saw Sukuna? Since he left my apartment I finally put my foot down. It feels surreal. Like he was here one moment, his presence filling every part of my life, and then, just like that, he’s gone. I can actually focus in class again, and my thoughts are less cluttered without his constant ups and downs. For the first time in a long time, I’m getting assignments done on time, and keeping up with my workload. But underneath it all, there’s this ache, a hollow space where he used to be.

I try to ignore it, but it’s always there, tugging at me, making it hard to concentrate completely. It’s the little things—his laugh echoing in my mind, the feel of his arms around me, his stupid smirk whenever he got under my skin. I find myself wondering if he’s okay. Did he come out of the hospital yet? Did he manage to finally piece himself together?

A part of me wants to reach out, just to check in. Maybe see if he’s doing better, if he’s still leaning on his friends, getting through each day somehow. But that’s not my place anymore, is it? I gave him so many chances to let me in, to let me help, and every single time, he shut me out. He made it clear he wanted to handle things his way. And I… I need to start respecting that boundary, as much as it hurts.

I take a deep breath, glancing out the window of the studio. The city is buzzing outside, people going on with their lives, completely unaware of the turmoil inside me. I sip my coffee, watching the people walk by, their laughter faintly audible through the glass.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a message from Utahime.

Utahime: You doing okay? Need anything?

I smile, appreciating her concern. She’s been there since everything happened, her presence a constant comfort, even when I didn’t realize I needed it.

Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking too much, as usual.

Utahime: Well, stop that! We’re going out tonight. A distraction is exactly what you need.

I hesitate, looking down at my phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I know she’s right. A distraction might help me let go of these lingering thoughts, these small pieces of Sukuna that I can’t seem to shake.

Me: Fine. Where and when?

Utahime: I’ll pick you up at 8. Be ready!

A part of me feels relieved at the thought of getting out, of being around people who remind me of who I am outside of Sukuna, outside of this relationship that became such a heavy part of my life.

as the car moves through the city streets, I press my head against the cool window, letting the world blur past me. The bass-heavy beat of W.D.Y.W.F.M. pulses through my headphones, each lyric tugging at parts of me I’ve been trying to bury.

Maybe you’re right, maybe this is all that I can be, the words echo, hitting a little too close to home. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of those lyrics settle in my chest. The memories start seeping in—the countless times I let myself believe that if I loved Sukuna enough, if I was patient enough, he’d eventually find it within himself to let me in. That if I just waited, things would finally feel right. But now I wonder… maybe it wasn’t just him. Maybe I should have known better than to believe that love could fix someone so broken.

But what if it’s you, and it wasn’t me?

The question pierces through my thoughts, stirring a bitterness I didn’t know I still had. He wanted to drown in his own pain, to shut me out every time I tried to pull him up for air. I couldn’t have been the answer, and yet here I am, with pieces of him still lingering, haunting me at every turn.

The Uber driver takes a corner, the familiar streets near my apartment coming into view. I force my gaze away from the window, back to my phone screen, trying to focus on anything but him. It shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does—knowing that for all the love I poured into him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from self-destructing.

The song fades as I arrive at my building. I thank the driver, taking a deep breath as I step out, feeling the city air wrap around me. The streetlights cast a dim glow on the sidewalk, and I let myself pause for a moment before going inside. I need to let him go, I tell myself firmly, as I push open the door and head up the stairs to my apartment. I have to learn to let go of the weight of him, of the what ifs and the could’ve been that keep me tangled in his memory.

I climb the stairs, my heart pounding faster with each step as I spot the car parked out front. The familiar shape, that old, dark-colored sedan that Sukuna drove everywhere... no, no, no, I think, my pulse racing. I’m not ready to see him. My body tenses with dread, the past few weeks crashing down on me in waves.

But as I get closer, I realize it isn’t him. The figure slouched in the driver's seat isn’t Sukuna—it’s Yuuji, his face drawn and pale under the streetlight glow. Relief floods me, only to be replaced by confusion and worry. I stride up to him, feeling the weight of all the things I know about Sukuna’s recent spiral pressing on me, unsettling and heavy.

"Yuuji," I say, my voice sharp, "why are you here?"

He startles, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes. I catch the shadow of sleepless nights, maybe even nights spent worrying about Sukuna. He tries to brush off the tension, but I can see right through him. He's younger, not yet old enough to be driving around on his own at this hour. That alone makes my stomach twist.

"I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to," he mutters, glancing away. The hurt and worry in his voice rip into me.

My gut clenches as I realize just how much of Sukuna’s pain has been spilling onto his family. The weight he’s putting on Yuuji, on Choso… it’s more than I ever understood. The anger, frustration, and heartbreak I felt these past weeks—they’re nothing compared to what Yuuji was going through. He’s barely an adult, forced to watch his older brother destroy himself.

“Yuuji,” I say softly, keeping my tone steady, “what’s going on? Why didn’t you call me?”

Yuuji looks up, and in that one look, I see just how much he’s been holding in. “I thought… I thought I could handle it, but… he’s just getting worse. I can’t even talk to him without him blowing up at me. He left some days ago, maybe more, and just stormed out. No one knows where he is. Toji, Choso, and even Geto…they all tried reaching him, but he wouldn’t answer. And then I remembered… you always knew how to reach him when he was like this.”

The ache in his voice cuts through me, and a fierce protectiveness rises up. I left Sukuna to deal with his pain, but it’s clear that his absence has left more than just a hole in my life—it’s tearing his family apart too.

“Yuuji,” I start, forcing calm into my voice. “I know things are tough, and Sukuna… he’s dealing with a lot. But you don’t have to do this alone. Have you told anyone else? Choso? Gojo?”

He shakes his head, looking at the ground. “No. Choso is dealing with enough as it is… and I don’t want them to worry more.”

He’s trying to be strong, trying to hold everyone else together when he’s the one falling apart. I know that feeling all too well. Sukuna and I broke things off because I couldn’t keep sacrificing my sanity for someone unreachable. But I never thought about how much worse it would get for those who couldn’t walk away, like Yuuji and Choso.

I reach out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yuuji, you don’t have to do this alone. You shouldn’t be doing this alone. Sukuna needs someone to get through to him, and it might not be me anymore—but we can try together.”

He stares at me for a moment, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Do you think… Do you think he’ll ever listen? Or is he too far gone?”

My heart aches at his words. “I don’t know. But we have to try.”

He nods, the glimmer of hope in his expression heartbreaking and determined.

I closed my eyes, gripping the phone tight. I knew Kenjaku could be difficult, even evasive when he wanted to be. Sukuna had a talent for finding people who were just as stubborn and reckless as he was. But I couldn’t back down, not now, not with Yuuji looking at me like he was counting on me.

“Kenjaku, I need to know. Yuuji’s here with me. He and Choso haven’t heard from Sukuna in days. They’re worried sick, and he’s…he’s not okay. I think you know that.”

There was a pause on the other end, the silence stretching uncomfortably long. I could almost picture Kenjaku’s calculating look, weighing his options. Finally, he sighed. “He showed up here a few nights back. I didn’t ask questions. He’s been sleeping it off on my couch, but I’ll be honest—he looks like hell, Y/N.”

The anger that had been simmering inside me now sparked, but it wasn’t toward Kenjaku. It was all for Sukuna—his self-destructive spiral, the pain he was dragging everyone into, and the part of him that still didn’t realize how much he meant to those around him.

“I’ll be over soon,” I said, voice steady despite the turmoil within me. “But please, don’t tell him I’m coming. I don’t want him bolting before I get there.”

Kenjaku’s chuckle was dry, but he agreed. “Sure thing. I’ll keep him occupied, though good luck getting through to him. He's really badly…. He’s fucked up, Y/N.”

I hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. When I looked at Yuuji, his eyes were wide, filled with a flicker of hope. He didn’t need to ask what I’d found out; the look on my face told him everything.

“I’m going to see him,” I said softly, reaching for my bag. “I’ll try to talk to him, to get through to him, somehow.”

Yuuji looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and worry. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

With a final squeeze of his shoulder, I turned and headed out the door, my heart pounding as I braced myself for the conversation I wasn’t sure I was ready to have.

Yuuji nodded, taking the key from my hand with a somber expression. "I will. Be careful, okay?" he said, his voice thick with unspoken worry.

I offered him a brief smile, though I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. "I will. Just... keep an eye on things here, yeah? If anything happens, call Toji."

Yuuji gave me a small, reassuring nod before he turned to head toward the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the hall as he climbed.

I stood there for a moment longer, staring at the door. The tension was building inside me—this wasn't going to be easy. I had no idea what I was walking into, but I knew I had to face it. For Yuuji. For Choso. And for myself.

With a deep breath, I pulled my jacket tighter around me and left the apartment, locking the door behind me. The walk to Kenjaku's place felt longer than usual, each step heavy with uncertainty. The city seemed quieter tonight, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement as I made my way toward the familiar building.

When I finally arrived, I didn't bother knocking. Kenjaku had given me the code to the door ages ago. I typed it in quickly, the door clicking open with an almost too-loud sound. The hallway was dimly lit, and I could hear the faint murmur of voices from behind one of the doors.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand on the doorframe. This was it. I didn’t know what I was about to walk into, but there was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

I stood there, taking in the scene before me—Sukuna, looking completely worn down, his eyes barely open, his hair disheveled and his face a mess of exhaustion and defeat. The cigarette hung loosely from his hand, the smoke curling up into the air as Uraume stood nearby, her posture stiff, frustration radiating off of her.

"Uraume, calm down," I said, my voice steady but firm as I crossed the room, stepping closer to the couch where Sukuna was sprawled out.

He groaned in response, his hand sliding off his face just enough for his eyes to meet mine, dull and clouded. He didn’t look surprised to see me, but his expression was unreadable.

"Great, now I'm fucking seeing and hearing shit," he muttered again, his voice thick with fatigue and annoyance.

I didn’t react to his comment, not letting it phase me. Instead, I walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, just enough to be close but not invading his space. I glanced over at Uraume, who seemed to be holding her ground, but she took a step back, recognizing that I was the one who needed to handle this.

"Sukuna, stop hiding," I said, my tone softer now, almost pleading. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn’t answer immediately, instead, taking another drag from the cigarette, his eyes drifting away from mine, focused on the wall as though he didn’t want to face me, or anyone.

"You think running away is gonna fix anything?" I continued, my voice low but insistent. "You think wallowing in this is gonna bring Jin back? Or fix what’s broken?"

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to snap at me again, but instead, he just let out a deep sigh, and the silence in the room hung thick.

"I’m not hiding," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "I’m just... tired."

"Then let us help you," I replied, my heart aching for him, but frustration mixing with it. "You don’t have to carry all this alone."

Sukuna shifted on the couch, his hand coming up to cover his eyes again, but this time, there was something in the way he did it—a sort of resignation, like he knew I was right, but couldn't bring himself to admit it. Uraume stood there, arms crossed, clearly waiting for him to make a move, but it was clear he wasn’t ready.

I stayed quiet for a moment, allowing him his space, but I couldn’t just leave it at that. He needed to hear it, and I needed him to understand.

"You're not alone in this, Sukuna," I said quietly, my voice breaking through the tension. "You’ve got people who care about you. People who are worried. And you don’t get to shut them out."

He didn’t respond immediately, but I could see his body language soften just a little. I wasn’t sure if he was hearing me, or if he was just too far gone to care, but I couldn’t give up on him—not when he was this close to losing everything, including himself.

"Sukuna..." I started again, but Uraume cut me off.

"You can only do so much, Y/N," she said, her tone serious, but a little softer now. "He’s gotta want it. He’s gotta find it in himself to get back up. And we can’t make that choice for him."

I nodded, swallowing back the knot in my throat. I knew she was right. But it didn’t make it any easier.

"You think he’ll listen?" I asked, barely above a whisper, not expecting a clear answer.

Uraume gave a small shrug. "Maybe. But only if he realizes he’s not beyond saving. But that’s up to him."

I glanced at Sukuna once more, feeling the weight of everything press down on me. His eyes were still closed, and he looked so damn defeated. Part of me wanted to scream, to shake him out of his spiral. But I knew that wasn’t what he needed.

What he needed was time and a reminder that he wasn’t the only one who had lost something.

Sukuna's smirk was laced with bitterness, and it was as if the weight of his guilt and self-loathing had manifested in those cruel words. His eyes never left me as he took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around us like a barrier, creating distance between us that I could almost feel.

I didn't flinch. I refused to let him see the impact his words had, but inside, I was crumbling.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the air, his pain seeping out in every syllable. "You think you can save me, Y/N? Don’t fool yourself. You know I’m worthless."

I wanted to shout at him, tell him he was wrong, but instead, my voice came out softer than I expected. "Sukuna, you're not worthless."

He let out a dry laugh, one that held no humor. "Yeah? Then why the hell did you leave? After we fucked, you tossed me out like I was nothing. Isn’t that what you think of me too?"

Each word felt like a blade to my chest. The anger, the resentment in his voice—it was suffocating. I could see the way his eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable that he kept buried under layers of pride and self-doubt. But he was pushing it all on me now.

I took a shaky breath, trying to keep my composure, but the truth was, hearing him say those things cut deeper than I ever anticipated.

I stepped closer to him, ignoring the thick cloud of smoke that hung in the air. "I didn’t leave because I thought you were worthless," I said, my voice trembling but determined. "I left because you pushed me away. You closed yourself off, pushed me out of your life like I was nothing. And I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t see it."

His expression hardened at that, the smirk fading away as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes narrowing at me. "You think I wanted to push you away?" His voice was quieter now, but there was still that edge of anger behind it. "You think I wanted to feel this empty... this fucking broken?"

I shook my head, my heart aching for him even as I held my ground. "No, I don't think that. But that’s what you did. You kept pushing everyone away, even when they were just trying to help. I couldn’t be the one to fix you, Sukuna. I’m not your savior."

He looked away then, the cigarette trembling slightly in his hand. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Y/N?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, the anger gone, replaced by quiet desperation. "How do I fix this? How do I fix myself?"

I didn’t have an answer. How could I? He had to want it, had to find the strength to fight through his demons on his own. But that didn’t mean I was ready to give up on him.

"You can start by not pushing everyone away," I said, my voice softer now, almost pleading. "You’re not alone, Sukuna. Not yet."

For a long moment, there was silence between us. The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy, as I waited for him to respond. But instead, he just took another drag of his cigarette, looking lost in his thoughts.

"I never asked for any of this," he muttered finally, his words barely audible. "I never asked to be the one holding everything together. I never asked for... this pain."

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t have an answer for him. All I could do was watch him, hoping, wishing he would find the strength to face what he had been running from.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t up to me. It never was.

His words hit like a punch to the gut. The rawness in his voice, the way he almost choked on the words—it was as if he was tearing himself apart right in front of me. I watched him, frozen, my heart pounding as he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Just go, Y/N. Please," he said, his voice rough, barely holding it together. "You made the right choice. Don’t let guilt eat at you. Your love... it wasn’t enough."

I felt the sting of tears welling up, but I forced myself to hold them back. This wasn’t the time to break down. He was pulling up walls as quickly as I tried to break them down, and part of me wondered if he would ever let anyone truly see the pieces of himself he kept hidden. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t about my love being "enough"—that he was worthy of love even in his darkest moments. But I knew, standing there, that he wouldn’t hear it. Not now.

"Sukuna," I began, my voice catching despite my best efforts to stay steady. "It's not about being enough or not enough. You’re worth more than this... more than what you think of yourself right now."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t... don’t do that. Don’t pretend I’m some lost soul you can save. You’ve done enough. It’s... it’s better this way."

"Better this way?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, feeling the frustration bubbling up. "Better for who? Because I don't think it's better for you. Look at yourself, Sukuna. You’re drowning, and you’re just... letting it happen."

He clenched his jaw, his hand shaking slightly as he flicked the cigarette into an ashtray. "Maybe that’s what I deserve," he said quietly, almost to himself.

The silence between us felt thick, suffocating. I took a step closer, reaching out, but he backed away, pressing himself further into the couch as if my touch would somehow make things worse.

"If that’s really what you believe..." I whispered, my chest tight. "If you really think you deserve this pain... then I can’t force you to change your mind. But I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something soft and vulnerable, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He lowered his gaze, the same smirk that once felt charming was now nothing more than a mask.

"Just... go," he whispered again, his voice so small it was almost lost in the room. "Forget about me. Move on. It’s better that way."

I stared at him, wanting to reach him, to pull him out of this dark place. But maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn’t save him. Taking a shaky breath, I nodded, my heart shattering with each step as I turned toward the door.

Before I left, I looked back one last time. He wouldn’t meet my gaze, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the floor, lost in his own torment.

“Goodbye, Sukuna,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. And with that, I stepped out, leaving behind the man I’d loved—and the pieces of myself that still wanted to believe he could be saved.

Sukuna's pov

I watched the door click shut behind her, the silence settling thick in the room. My chest felt hollow, but the ache gnawed deeper, clawing its way up my throat. I turned to my side, curling up on the couch, pressing my hand over my eyes as if I could shut out everything I’d just done. I’d pushed her away—again—and for what? To prove some sick point that I was beyond saving? That I didn’t deserve her?

I could still smell her faint perfume lingering in the air, feel the warmth she’d brought with her now slipping through my fingers. It wasn’t like I didn’t want her here. God, I wanted her more than anything. But how could I let her stay, knowing what a mess I’d become? How could I put her through the hell I was living every day?

My mind drifted back to Jin and Gramps, memories that never stayed buried long. Jin would’ve slapped me across the head if he saw me like this, wasting away, hurting everyone who tried to care. But I could never forgive myself for that night, for not being there when he needed me. And now, I was dragging Y/N down with me.

The silence felt louder now, each second stretching painfully, mocking me. She’d tried, even after everything I put her through. She tried to reach me, to pull me out of this pit I’d dug for myself. But I’d thrown her love back in her face. Again.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my fists to my temples. I wanted to cry, to scream, to feel something other than this endless, numbing void. But even that felt like too much. All I could do was lie here, drowning in my own misery, pushing everyone who mattered further and further away

Kenjaku grabbed my wrist, yanking my hands away from my ears. "Look at me, Sukuna," he snapped, his tone harsher than I'd ever heard. "This is your last chance. No one else is going to fight for you if you don’t fight for yourself."

I kept my eyes shut, trying to hold on to the darkness, anything to keep from facing the weight of his words. What good was that going to do? The damage was done, and I’d burned every bridge around me.

I tried pulling my arm free, but his grip tightened. "You think you’re the only one hurting?" Kenjaku’s voice dropped, each word laced with a fury that broke through my wall of apathy. "Your brothers are terrified. Toji, Uraume—they’re all watching you tear yourself apart. And Y/N? She might be gone, but you know damn well it’s killing her too."

My hands trembled as I finally opened my eyes, meeting his stare. I could see the disappointment, the anger. But there was something else, something that looked too much like hope.

"Why does it matter?" I murmured, my voice cracking. "I’ve already lost everything. What’s the point?"

Kenjaku’s expression softened for the briefest moment before he pulled me up to sit. "You haven't lost everything, not yet. But if you keep pushing everyone away, there will be nothing left. Not your friends, not Y/N, not even your own damn self."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and I felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in months—fear.

I held his stare, my jaw clenched, trying to keep the defiance in my eyes. But Kenjaku didn’t look away, his grip on my arm tightening. "What did you take?" he asked again, his tone sharper, cutting right through me.

I tried to shrug him off, mumbling, "Just something to take the edge off. Why does it matter?"

"Because," he hissed, shaking me slightly, "you can barely stand right now, Sukuna. You're falling apart, and you keep reaching for whatever dulls the pain instead of facing it. So I'll ask you one last time—what did you take?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his demand. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want him to know how far I'd fallen. But the way he was looking at me, with a mixture of anger and something close to pity, broke through the wall I’d put up.

"Xanax... some Oxy," I muttered, barely audible, each word feeling like a confession. "And... a couple drinks." I looked away, shame burning in my chest.

Kenjaku's face twisted with a grimace, and he let go of my arm, taking a step back as if the truth was too heavy for him. "This is what you're doing to yourself?" His voice was low, thick with disappointment. "This isn’t numbing the pain, Sukuna. It's destroying you."

I sank back onto the couch, the weight of his words pressing down like a boulder on my chest. "Maybe that’s the point," I whispered, barely holding back the rawness in my voice. "Maybe that’s all I deserve."

Kenjaku knelt in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes. "Then prove yourself wrong," he said firmly. "If you can’t do it for you, then do it for them—your brothers, your friends, everyone who’s still here trying to reach you. But you have to decide to get up and fight."

My answer was simple, and final. "No."

Kenjaku stared at me, frustration flaring in his eyes. I could tell he was holding back from saying more, like he knew words were useless right now.

“You want to keep drowning?” he asked, his voice sharper, leaning closer as if to pierce right through me. “You think this is easier, huh? Wasting away until there's nothing left?”

“Maybe it is," I said, my voice hollow. "Maybe it’s the only way I can even get through this. The only thing that keeps my mind off... everything.”

“You’re just running,” Kenjaku shot back, anger finally surfacing. "You think the pain will leave you alone? It won’t. It’s gonna keep eating you alive until there’s nothing left, Sukuna. Nothing for you, and nothing for the people who actually give a damn about you."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms until the sting cut through the haze clouding my mind. “Then let it. I’m not worth anything to anyone.”

Kenjaku exhaled, the fight leaving his shoulders. He stared at me, his eyes dark and steady. “You keep saying that, but it’s not true. You know it’s not true.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and unbreakable, until he finally straightened, his expression hardening. “Fine. You want to stay here, stay here. But don’t expect any of us to stick around and watch you throw your life away.”

[sisitrip]

I was at a Thanksgiving dinner, recuperating (food coma afflicted) in a quiet corner while relatives got happier with after dinner drinks. I caught the look of a cousin, also food coma afflicted, and we had a whole conversation without saying a word. A tiny relative (read: a bored 8 year old) saw us and asked what we were talking about because it looked "nasty." Were we throwing shade at an auntie who always has something to say? That ain't the point, but ... maybe. It sparked the whole outsider POV thought and what can be picked up between two people who don't have to say a word.

All that "nasty" talk I was possibly doing aside, please enjoy an Iggy outsider POV with "Touch Tells You Everything."

-------------------------------------------

Skin had its own language.

This thought wouldn’t leave Iggy’s mind as he watched Mickey and Ian have a seemingly telepathic conversation all night. If he didn’t know them, he’d be a little spooked by it.

He sat in the corner of said couple’s condo, surveying the aftermath of a Gallagher party. PizzaHut, KFC and White Castle boxes littered the living room like dead soldiers, felled by the gastronomic fury of this family. On top of the culinary destruction, which he admittedly had a hand in, everyone was completely wasted. Except Ian and Mickey. Lip was the only other exception which might explain how he’d managed to irritate him more than usual tonight. Ordinarily, he could tune the little lemur out, but he’d gotten suckered into being the sober driver for these fools. Somebody was definitely throwing up with the way he drives and he personally hoped it was Carl.

But, back to the language of skin. 

He squinted one eye and followed Ian and Mickey’s movements around the room. It was almost balletic, this dance of finger brushing, forearm cupping, and neck stroking. Intimate touches he would find irritatingly unnecessary, but somehow seemed vital to these two. 

Like now, Ian walked over to Mickey who was loading the dishwasher and slipped a hand under the back of his shirt. He expected Mick to jerk up and look around to see if anyone noticed. He didn’t. 

Instead, he stopped what he was doing and gently pushed Ian up against the counter, taking his hands and placing them back under his t-shirt, like his skin was a dermal barometer of Ian’s mood. They even had a weird, silent conversation where all they did was look into each other's eyes before nodding at one another, coming to some sort of understanding. 

“Alright, time for you fucks to get out,” Mickey announced unceremoniously, turning to lean against Ian. Mickey did it carefully, so as not to dislodge Ian’s hands like an electric current would be broken if he did. 

Everyone drunkenly moved en masse to get their coats from the bedroom, leaving him and the handsy couple alone. Mickey turned back to Ian, again carefully keeping skin contact. Ian’s expression went lax with something. Relief? Gratitude? He couldn’t tell because it was all mixed up in the dopiest expression of love. Not for the first time, he wondered what it would feel like if someone looked at him like that.

Mickey and Ian’s silent conversation continued, but this time, there was rocking. Ian pulled Mickey closer and swayed him from side to side, tiredly smiling. He swore on his name that if they started kissing, he was going to make studio quality vomiting sounds. 

Ian’s hands slid up and down under Mickey’s shirt and his brother let himself be pawed like a resigned cat. Mickey didn’t move or even try to break eye contact. He simply tilted his head to the side and raised questioning eyebrows. He didn't know what the question was, but Ian nodded, eyes a little shiny. Mickey’s nostrils flared once, twice and finally a third time before he took a deep breath and pulled Ian’s head down, kissing his forehead. 

“Ain’t you fucks got your coats yet?” Mickey bellowed, never taking his eyes off Ian. 

The group returned giggling about something they’d found attached to the couple’s headboard. He didn't want to know what. 

“Iggy, you’re driving us, right?” Debbie asked, putting her coat on backwards. 

Ian and Mickey finally noticed he was still in the room. Mickey buried his head in Ian’s chest and his husband’s neck turned red. Served them right for all that unnecessary canoodling shit.  

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he griped, standing up and stretching.

He flicked a glance at the couple who were still attached to each other like they were in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. He considered trying to get Mickey to drive these drunk assholes home, but his brother seemed to have other plans. Like pulling Ian’s t-shirt out of the back of his pants and sliding his hands up his husband’s naked back. Ian seemed to deflate with relief and despite his earlier self-promise, he made no vomiting noises when Mickey leaned up to kiss Ian, gently and with a care reserved for things that were beyond precious. 

That decided it for him. Instead of a critical waste of spit on these skin junkies in the kitchen, he aimed it at the crew he had to chauffeur home. 

“Listen the fuck up. Everybody takes a bottle of water in the rig and starts practicing the quiet game. I’m sober against my will and don’t want to hear your nonsense,” he warned, shrugging into his own coat. 

“We’re heading out,” Lip said, walking out with Tami. “Hey, Ian, I’ll-”

“Philip, can you enter and exit a room without expecting the world to clap?” he snapped. “Get on. People are tired.”

Lip huffed out with his bitchy, but hot wife while he redirected Debbie and Carl from their beeline to the kitchen for a long goodbye. 

“Let’s go frick and fucking frack,” he grumbled, shoving them both out the door.

He looked back at Ian and Mickey, still pressed close together. Mickey held a cold beer to the back of Ian’s neck and slid a hand under his shirt, stroking his side. Ian, eyes and nose reddening, buried his face in Mickey’s shoulder, hands moving like ghosts under the shroud of Mickey’s shirt, rubbing soft circles like he was gleaning comfort through his fingertips. 

He caught Mickey’s eye and his brother’s worry was so evident, his own chest tightened in response. But, with an almost imperceptible nod, Mickey thanked him, letting him know they were okay. See, they had their own language too, built on years of silently conveying warnings in a hair trigger household. He nodded in return and slipped out, using the spare keys Ian gave him to lock up. For a minute, he stood outside the door until he heard Ian’s soft sobs inside and Mickey’s murmured reassurances.

“Take care of him, Mick,” he whispered, patting the door.

As he rode down the elevator with two drunken Gallaghers, he sent a good wish back up to the couple, still marveling at their conversation through touch. He’d never known anyone well enough to talk to like that. It was … intimate. Almost too intimate. It felt like talking when you were naked and not being worried about what you’d say or how you looked. You just felt … safe. Mickey and Ian had so much of that, you could see it if you just watched them long enough. 

And, if he was a softer person, he might admire that. Maybe even envy it. 

He didn’t think he could still be surprised by them. It’s been over a decade of their ‘will they or won’t they’ nonsense. But, for Mickey and Ian, touch was another way to communicate and tonight had made one thing perfectly clear.

Skin had its own language.

[tgmsunmontue]

Peer reviewed

3k Hangster (one-shot). Mature (to explicit maybe?)

Secretly married Hangster in an academic environment. Outsider POV then Hangster back and forth with a 5+1 feel (“feel” because it’s a 9+1). This was inspired by one of the academics I manage/work with who came into my office and declared “I haven’t spoken to him in three years and I’m not about to start now!” and I just sat there and went… why are you so proud of being apparently incapable of being baseline professional with a colleague?

…            …            …

FIRST TIME

                “Oh my god! Have you heard what’s happening down in the engineering staff offices?”

                “They haven't set fire to the place again have they?”

                “That was one time. But no, two of our new staff have arrived and it sounds like they’ve about to have a brawl in the corridor.”

                “Seriously?”

                “Yeah! Want to go walk past under the premise of getting a coffee?”

                “Definitely.”

                Jane and Sarah stand and watch. Professor Bradshaw and Professor Seresin are standing almost nose-to-nose, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing in anger and any second one of them is just going to push the other, and the other is then going to be justified in taking a swing. Sarah can see it all playing out in her minds’ eye and she wonders exactly what has set them off. She wonders if this would be a new record for HR, for people to get fired before they even officially start. Because physical altercations are definitely a firable offense, she knows because it’s happened before.

                And they’ve put so much work in finding these professors. They had met them both when they came for their interviews, about a week apart. She’d had to shmooze and try to sell the University and location just as much as the job. Their school might not have big student numbers, but their research is world class and both Seresin and Bradshaw bring a lot to the table in terms of research capabilities and student supervision and mentorship. Now if they could just get along with each other.

                Then Professor Seresin says something under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Professor Bradshaw goes bright red, shoves Professor Seresin and stalks off, so it can’t have been anything good.

                Okay then.

                Maybe they shouldn’t have placed the new guys in offices side-by-side thinking they might get on with one another.

…            …            …

                “Do you feel better for a nap?”

                “Fuck you… but yes. And I’m sorry I lost my temper. I was just tired and –”

                “Hungry and stressed and jetlagged. Yeah babe, I know. Thanks for taking over…”

                “You’re welcome. Although I think everyone assumes we hate each other.”

                “Oh. That’s…”

                “Well, we weren’t going to advertise the fact we’re married.”

                “No. But… to have everyone think we hate each other?”

                “What? It’ll just be like when we started dating… everyone getting sick of our shit and wanting to bang out heads together.”

                “Jake… we were post-docs then. We’re professionals now.”

                “Speak for yourself. I plan on pretending we’re holding a grudge about who got the better office.”

                “Jake, you got the better office.”

                “And you can hold a grudge better than anyone I know. So it works perfectly. Also you’re going to spend more time in the workshop or lab and I spend more time in the front of fucking screen running models so it makes sense that I get the nicer office…”

                “You didn’t raise either of those points when we were fighting earlier…”

                “Well, I knew telling you I wanted to fuck you on my brand new desk would shut you up.”

                “You’re lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

SECOND TIME

                It’s a networking event, mainly aimed at making industry partners aware of what research is currently being undertaken and what potential opportunities there are for collaboration. She’s done her best with the program, to ensure Bradley and Jake can avoid each other. Bradley presented first and Jake is almost last. They’re both on a first name basis with her now after the months of working together, she’s helped them both with different aspects of moving to another country however she notes that they still refer to each other by last names. They’re the only ones to still do that.

                On top of that Bradley seems to be trying to maybe kill Jake with the power of his mind, staring at him with heated intensity like his mere presence is an affront to Bradley somehow. She’s noticed his temper gets worse when he’s tired or his blood sugar dips low and has taken to stocking a bowl of candy on her desk, which Bradley seems to take from every afternoon. Maybe she should go and ensure he’s eaten.

…            …            …

                “You’re so good for me baby… way to make a boring work event far more interesting. Thinking about this inside of you all night while you walked around looking so good in your suit. Fuck…”

---------------------------

THIRD TIME

                It’s meant to be a social activity, just a friendly game of badminton or table tennis. Except apparently Bradley and Jake are competitive at even the most benign of social interactions and are currently trying to kill each other using ping pong balls. Other staff are backing away with either fear or simple self-preservation, not wanting to be caught in the cross-fire of whatever this has turned into. The taunts they’re throwing back and forth are a little too barbed to be considered friendly, but not barbed enough to be nasty. Either way, no one seems to be having much fun.

…            …            …

                “Pretty sure we’re not meant to be using the disabled bathroom for sex.”

                “Not my fucking fault you’re so hot I can’t control myself.”

---------------------------

FORTH TIME

                The annual school strategy meeting happens and they just need to keep Bradley and Jake on opposite sides of the room. Her and Jane have got this down to a fine art now, although the idea of trying to keep the two of them in the same room for an entire workday is stretching even their abilities. Fortunately the program leaders for both Jake and Bradley seem to be happy to assist in keeping them separated but also in expediating the material by arranging for half of it to be discussed at a later point. Considering some of the arguing that has already happened it’s a very good thing they don’t have to compete for funding internally.

…            …            …

                “Okay, definitely a benefit of everyone thinking we can’t stand each other, making meetings shorter.”

                “Don’t you feel a little bad that we’re deceiving them?”

                “Did you not hear what I just said?”

---------------------------

FIFTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw.”

                “Seresin. What can I help you with?”

                The lack of title is definitely deliberate and if there were guns involved the safety would be off, or the hammer would be getting cocked… Instead Jake is looking amused more than anything else, although there’s a slight hue of pink high on his cheeks which bely his potential anger at the disrespect. It’s not often they’re both in the administration office at the same time, and they’re both gritting their teeth and grimacing. She cannot believe that they’re apparently incapable of being more civil to one another.

                “Just found your phone in the break room and thought I’d bring it up to the office. And here you are…”

                “And here I am…”

                Jake is indeed holding a phone out, pinched between his thumb and forefinger like he might catch something from it. Bradley reaches out a hand to take it and like it’s almost slow motion the phone tumbles from Jake’s fingers just as Bradley is about to take it and it hits the floor.

                “Oops. Sorry. Butter fingers,” Jake says, but he’s smirking and even Sarah is annoyed on Bradley’s behalf. That was clearly deliberate. Bradley is bending to retrieve his phone, rolling his eyes and muttering thanks under his breath, which Sarah decides is far more polite than she’d be.

                “Oh, my pleasure.”

…            …            …

                Jake pushes Bradley up against his office door, locking it and grinning like an idiot as he presses kisses along the curve of Bradley’s jaw.

                “God, you’re such an asshole.”

                “Yeah, but I wanted to see you bend over in those jeans again. Damn Bradley…” Jake says, and he runs a hand over Bradley’s ass again, very appreciative of said ass.

                “Workplace harassment.”

                “You like being harassed by me at work.”

                “Yeah, what do you think that says about my mental state?”

                “That you love me?”

---------------------------

SIXTH TIME

                “Professor Bradshaw won’t be in today. And probably not tomorrow.”

                “Um,” Sarah blinks. “Is he…” Alive? She’s a little scared to ask.

                “He’s got some type of stomach flu, puking and feverish. I said I’d take his classes for him.”

                “That’s… nice of you.”

                “Hmm. I always like it when people owe me favors.”

                Huh. She smiles and nods and decides to send Bradley a message to check in and maybe suggest he doesn’t eat any food that Jake brings him. Just in case.

…            …            …

                “You’re the best.”

                “And you’re adorable.”

                “I’m miserable.”

                “And very adorable with it.”

                “Did you know that Sarah thinks you’re poisoning me?”

                “What? Since when?”

                “She sent me a message saying to be careful about taking anything from you, just in case.”

                Jake rolls his eyes and presses a quick kiss to Bradley’s forehead.

                “If I catch this from you, then you can worry about me poisoning you. But not before then.”

                “Love you too babe.”

---------------------------

SEVENTH TIME

                “I’m really sorry Bradley, it’s just with how late notice it is we can’t find another room anywhere close by. I’ve asked that if another room is made available you’re moved to it immediately.”

                “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind sharing a room. I promise.”

                “What’s wrong?” Jake asks, coming into the office, and he’s looking at Bradley with narrowed eyes and even when Bradley smiles at Jake all he gets in response is a frown and Bradley simply rolls his eyes, like he finds Jake’s action endearing somehow rather than grossly unprofessional.

                “There weren’t any more rooms available, so I’ve had to place you in the same room. Separate beds though!”

                “I’d rather share with someone I know than a complete stranger,” Bradley says.

                “So I have to put up with him farting and snoring in my room?”

                “Excuse you! Like I don’t have to put up with the same from you!”

                “I’m really sorry Jake, it’s just –”

                “It’s fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not within your control. Bradshaw and I can play nice for a few days I’m sure. Can’t we Bradshaw?”

                “Well, we can certainly try.”

                “That’s the spirit!”

                “We can even share a ride to the airport, seeing as we live in the same apartment building.”

                “Who knows, we might come back best friends.”

                “I think people will just be impressed we both come back alive and don’t kill each other.”

                They walk away in the same direction and Sarah bites a knuckle and looks across at Jane.

                “You know, I think they’re starting to mature. That was almost a civil conversation. They only looked like they wanted to hit each other about half the time…”

…            …            …

                “Yes, hi, we’re here to check in. A room for Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Oh! We’ve actually had a cancellation. There’s another room available. Your assistant was very adamant that if there was a cancellation we moved you to separate rooms.”

                “It’s fine. We’d prefer to share.”

---------------------------

EIGHTH TIME

                “Hi. Can you tell me where to find Professor Seresin’s office?”

                “Aren’t you one of Professor Bradshaw’s students?”

                “Yeah, but he said I’d be best to talk to Professor Seresin, because he knows more.”

                “Really? Hmm. Well, their offices are side by side, so if you’d been looking at the name plates on the doors you would have noticed you had to walk past Professor Seresin’s office to get here.”

                “Oh. Okay then. Thank you.”

                Sarah turns to Jane, eyes wide and disbelieving look on her face.

                “Do you think they’re thawing toward one another?”

                “Who knows? Maybe that conference they both went to forced them to get on?

                Later, when they’re walking back to the office from their lunch break Jake and Bradley are arguing in the corridor and Sarah lets out a sigh and shrugs. Things had been looking so promising.

…            …            …

                “No Bradley, I stand by what I told the student. I do have a better understanding of the measurement and applications for sensors. I build the fucking circuits and run models out my ears before I even reach the build stage.”

                “Yeah, I know you do, but it’s a final year capstone project. Not a Masters or PhD. You’re overthinking it and making it far bigger than it needs to be. You overwhelmed him with your enthusiasm. I wasn’t telling you no, I was just needing you to dial it down.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah. I know. Lucky I love you.”

---------------------------

NINTH TIME

                “Oh, they definitely looked like they’d been pushing each other around.”

                “Seriously? At least they’re smart enough to never do it where there are witnesses. Otherwise it would be an HR nightmare. Do you think there’s maybe something more there though?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well… I got the receipt for the hotel where they stayed, and they ended up staying in the same room. By choice. I know there was an extra room because I phoned up the morning they were meant to be checking in, and there had been a cancellation. But they decided not to use it.”

                “Okay. That is odd.”

                “Plus there was one time I got mail for Jake Seresin-Bradshaw. Do you think they’ve gone and joined forces for some type of research?”

                “More likely gone halves on a subscription of some type. Those things are like, ridiculously expensive. Their research kind of overlaps right? It’s why they knew each other… didn’t they do their undergraduate degrees at the same University?”

…            …            …

                “A love bite Bradley? Really?”

                “Yep. Now you match about half your first-year students.”

                “You’re such an asshole.”

                “Mmm. I do work very hard at it.”

---------------------------

TENTH TIME

                “Jake. Fantastic presentation. Just wondering if I could maybe interest you in a drink?”

                Sarah doesn’t give the person asking much of a chance. Jake is always so very calm and aloof at these types of events, perfectly pleasant and professional for the most part. Except when it comes to Bradley, although it’s been a couple of years now and their banter back-and-forth could almost be classified as friendly.

                “A drink to talk about a potential professional partnership?” Jake asks, smile bland and not reaching his eyes.

                “Well, no,” their voice drops lower. “More a potential personal relationship…?”

                “I think my husband might have something to say about that, and also I'm not at all interested.”

                What the actual fuck Sarah thinks to herself. Since when has Jake been married? And to declare it quite loudly in a room full means there’s no back tracking.

                “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were… unavailable. You’ve never mentioned a husband before.”

                “No, I haven’t. But we have been married for coming up to five years.”

                Five years!!! Sarah thinks to herself.

                “You called?” Bradley asks, voice dry and Sarah cannot fucking believe it.

                “Hi. Yes. I did. Ready to go home?”

                “Ready when you are.”

                Sarah needs to reassess every time she remembers them interacting, because they’re still looking at each other, but now that she knows they’re married it puts a whole different lens on why that level of intensity might be there in the gaze they’re sharing.

                Oh.

                They’ve been eye-fucking each other.

                During meetings, events, social get togethers… when they’ve been pushing each other around.

                Oh.

                Right.

                Good for them.

…            …            …

                “What made you decide to declare our matrimonial state tonight?” Bradley asks, and it’s a struggle to talk, Jake’s mouth on his neck sucking, biting and kissing. His fingers have already undone the buttons of Bradley’s shirt and pushed it off, now working on his belt.

                “Novelty had worn off. I want the novelty of being able to hold your hand, or kiss you if I want to or…”

                “Or simply say we’re married?”

                “Yeah. That too.”

THE END

[hitmehardnsweet]

i think…perhaps…everyone as a viewer could perhaps have just assumed all of the girls went crazy and evil and loved eating their friends and shauna the most unreliable narrator of all time is telling the truth when she says they had fun. the point of the difference in the pit girl hunt from the pilot and from the s3 finale is to show us that that may not necessarily have been the truth.

the scene in the pilot is from the pov of an outsider. we have no clue who any of these girls are or what they have gone through up until this point. we just see a bunch of crazy and violent girls hunting someone down for sport. we understand what the concept of the show is and we just make the assumption of “crazy evil cannibal cult”. the stark difference in the s3 scene is meant to show us that most of these girls are really just trying to survive shauna’s tyrannical power trip.

that’s not to say that none of them have done horrible things to this point. they all watched and let javi die so that they could eat him. because they wanted to survive. taivan are trying to rig the card pull so that they don’t pull the queen. so they can survive. the girls didn’t need to eat ben but they might as well because they’ve eaten one of their own before and well shauna’s mean and scary so i might as well go along with it so she doesn’t kill me. etc etc. to survive.

“why don’t they just kill shauna they could easily gang up on her” because none of them want to kill anybody. they’re not crazy murderers who want to hurt and eat each other. in the same way travis didn’t just kill lottie himself, it’s easier to be a passive witness to the violence and murder. travis could talk himself out of the responsibility of her death if she fell in a pit of spikes. oopsie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

shauna, tai, and lottie are the only ones who actively want to stay in the wilderness when presented with the opportunity to go home. and not even necessarily bc they are the crazy violent ones who have enjoyed every second of the bad stuff they’ve done but bc they’re scared to go back home knowing they are Not Okay. all three of them are suffering deeply with mental health issues that the others don’t really understand and they don’t feel safe going back to a civilized society when they’ve been able to be themselves freely in their own little society that they’ve created and managed to end up thriving in. why do they need to go back to a scary place when this has become somewhat of a safe place for them?

is shauna enjoying herself a little too much sometimes? yeah absolutely. the antler queen title is going to her head even though it’s obvious none of the girls see her as their leader. and amongst other things, but that’s a whole different thing for another post about shauna. the yellowjackets were never a crazy, violent, cannibalistic cult. they’re all just scared and trying to survive in the only ways they have presented to them.

the adults are terrified of the world finding out what they did bc they know all of it was fucked up. not in a “we were evil and terrible” way but in a “no one should ever have to do that and it’s also quite illegal to murder and be an accessory to murder and eat another human” way.

shauna has quite a warped perception of what happened because she has gaslit herself into believing she had a larger and more important role to the team and she really didn’t. the unfortunate part about that is…she’s the main character (whether you like it or not) and she’s an incredibly unreliable narrator. but again, that’s for an entirely different post about shauna specifically.

it’s likely natalie can’t give a precise enough location, and the snowy weather is going to slow down a renewed search for them regardless…so there is probably a little bit of time for more of the girls to go absolutely batshit crazy but i just don’t really think that’s going to end up happening necessarily. shauna probably will but again that’s a whole other thing. maybe we just assumed traumatized cannibals were inherently bad people.

tldr: if you’re mad at the show’s “bad writing” you just don’t Get It. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[moutheyes]

gelboys cinematography go brrr, episode 5

this week's post is a little scuffed because there's soooo much I loved about episode 5, the camerawork was so deliberate in how it framed the tension between bua, chian, and fourmod, and I really want to do it justice but it's also my last day of vacation so things are kind of hectic. but we roll!

previously: episodes 1-2 | episode 3 | episode 4

lonely boys in the big city

while this episode focused mainly on bua's POV, with the series being this far in, all four characters got their fair share of screen time, and the camera made sure to show all of them isolated in public spaces, long angled shots holding the viewer at bay, bua most of all. (a significant contrast because he, out of all the characters, seeks validation from the greater public via social media, given his aspirations of being an influencer and subsequent fixation on numbers—even if he uses it as an excuse to cling to chian.)

relatedly, this show's ability to interweave physical space and digital space, the public and the private, is incredibly effective. so far bua has been the one to cross those boundaries—chian's dorm room and classroom, baabin's secret twitter account—while only giving others glimpses into his personal life in the digital realm via tiktok or instagram. that's why the final scene, where baabin goes to comfort bua, feels so momentous. of course, it's not the first time he's been there; bua invited baabin over to stream lisa's new MV when he was feeling desperate.

fourmod in the observer's seat

loved this entire extended sequence of fourmod playing cameraman for chian and bua, which starts in fourmod's POV (watching chian and bua dance in real space), cuts to situate fourmod as the observer of all that follows, then assumes fourmod's POV once more (you can see his hand filming them, still in frame), before pulling out to show how apart he is from chian and bua in both physical space and digital space (by having him watch the video he recorded).

revolving thirds

you all know how dirty framing works by now so I'm not going to go into too much detail regarding the mechanics of it, but the way the World's Most Awkward Hangout unfolded, with the camera continuously rotating fourmod and bua in and out of the "third" role over multiple locations, from afternoon into evening, stressed me tf out. this sequence—increasing the visual distance between bua and fourchian, that sense of isolation—was absolutely diabolical work:

but just as you think fourmod might have the emotional upper hand, the scene shifts to their tiktok filming (covered above), where fourmod is distinctly framed as the outside observer, and then to the meal, where there was more back and forth with the framing, but ends with this moment where bua tries to cover up the camera's view of fourmod with his hand as he invites chian to share a secret. chian demurs at first, then gives in, at which point fourmod is completely obscured.

throughout the entire hangout, it was always fourmod and bua who took turns being the visual third wheel, so I knew this was coming, and when it did I had my pillow in a death grip:

like hell chian was going to escape this situation without being put in the middle himself! here he's finally forced to make a decision, and I have to give pide a lot of credit because chian's expression of frozen terror gets me every single time. ugh it's so good.

fourmod has not stopped running

unlike chian, who simply dissociates, fourmod's coping method is to physically remove himself from any situation where he might be forced to engage with frustration or anger. he does it TWICE during his date with chian, first when chian (once again) denies him the confirmation of their relationship, then after chian tries to placate him with physical affection. and each time he pretends to be absorbed in whatever he's watching. (I loved the detail of only fourmod's face being illuminated by the glow of the screen the entire time.)

fourmod also runs from baabin after they finally reach a head on the whole chian situation. baabin threatens to end their friendship, and after a bit of simmering, fourmod [deep sigh] storms off. and the next time we see them in the same frame, baabin has physically turned his back on fourmod's pain. baabin is no longer offering fourmod solace; instead he transfers that energy to bua later.

I had more I wanted to say about the extended scene between bua and chian at uni but I'm out of braincells for now so I will do some more thinking on my very long plane ride tomorrow...

I leave you with our nosy king:

[hyacinthusmemorial]

is it only me, who goes like "Apollo must have flashback to hyacinth dying , when he saw Achilles and dead Patroclus,

Am I the only one who thinks of this? Okay

If that’s your personal head canon, go right ahead. Believe what you want to, nobody will stop you. 👍😉 I think its definitely a sweet sentiment, and a fun little brain worm.

But, I don’t think Apollo would react that way for for quite a few reasons. The first is mythology and the second is psychology and the third is genre.

The mythological reason is that Apollo is directly and purposefully responsible for Patroclus’s death, and he definitely hates Achilles. Like actually. The List of Top Ten People Apollo hates has Achilles twice on it. If he was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Achilles, and he had a gun with two bullets in it, he would shoot Achilles twice. He wants Achilles to suffer, and when Patroclus dies he tells Hector that he’s the third guy to kill him, but Apollo was the first to kill him. Because I think everyone in the Trojan war knows Apollo and Achilles hate each other. Apollo because Achilles murdered his sons (plural) and Achilles because he knows Apollo’s going to kill him. Reasons for their bitter rivalry can be found in this post here. There are more probably too.

As far as the psychological aspect, let’s assume Apollo’s psyche is like a human’s (which I do not think it totally is, but that’s another post). Trauma and Grief are two completely separate experiences. Grief is a normal human thing which we are given excellent coping skills to overcome by nature. People die. It’s a fact of life. But, HOW people die can be traumatic. For example, if your in a war and you watch your buddy die from a mine exploding and he doesn’t die right away, that’s traumatic. The grief is still separate from the trauma. Its closely aligned, but its separate. Trauma on the other hand is a situation that humans are not equipped to handle—its a situation outside the psychological norm. So our brain adapts normally to an abnormal situation.

I think the only true similarity between Patrochilles/Hyapollo deaths is that they were gay and one of them died before the other. If anything, Apollo was feeling a little vindictive when Patroclus died. He was the arm of fate that killed Patroclus, and Achilles absolutely deserved the death and destruction of everything he held dear in my POV. He was a serial assaulter and a war criminal.

Another reason why flashbacks just don’t work is because flashbacks are a trauma response. I think there’s a separate issue where one might live in the memories of a loved one’s passing, but that’s separate from a flashbacks. Flashbacks from PTSD are when the subconscious fear overwhelms the conscious. It requires a trigger, which can be anything and sinister—subtle and terrible. We know from the ancient authors that one of Apollo’s trigger is a westerly wind. @gingermintpepper had an excellent post providing several sources about Apollo’s approach to Hyacinthus and Asclepius’s deaths.

A flashback is a fear response in a situation that does not require this response based off of a trigger that puts the sub-conscious into a flight/fight mode and makes someone relive a previous traumatic experience. So for example Apollo might feel a western wind and relive Hyacinthus’s death or fear that Zephyrus is about to hurt him or the person he is with. This also depends on coping skills, and whether the person has developed grounding skills to put them back in the present.

I don’t believe that the situation with Patroclus/Achilles is triggering in the right way to elicit a flashback in Apollo. Patroclus and Achilles deaths are pretty different from Hyacinthus’s. So even if he had a grief response it would be minimal. At least from my perspective, one of my parents died when I was a child, and I had to take care of them while they were sick. I take care of a lot of sick people in my day to day, and I will say I rarely ever experience something that puts me back into the mode I was in when my parent died. I walk past the room my parent died in sometimes, cause I work in the hospital that they died in, and I am alright because I recognize the situation and I’m able to accept they died there. Alternatively, what does illicit a response in me is a certain smell my parent had when they were dying. I recognize it in patients sometimes, and I can have a visceral response to that, but again, I have learned how to appropriately deal with these sorts of things because “improve, adapt, overcome.”

Trauma is absolutely just a part of living in the world. Everyone has their own life story and troubles and triggers and struggles. But I don’t think Apollo/Hyacinthus connects to Patroclus/Achilles in any intense way.

Alternatively, I think perhaps something Apollo might have a more visceral response to is Hermes and Crocus, who are quite nearly the same dang story. That’s Apollo’s brother, and he loses someone the same way Apollo lost someone. That would open up gateways of intense suffering.

As far as genre goes, Apollo and Hyacinthus have a horror story parading as a romance story. Zephyrus is a sinister, invisible monster—he causes violence in a place where violence does not belong. On the other hand, Patroclus/Achilles is a war story—violence is expected. They both absolutely knew they were going to fie in that war, so their agony is expected from the beginning. Hyacinthus’s loss is unexpected and therefore, grievous. Not that losing your lover/cousin in a war is less horrific—it’s just prepared for, while losing your lover in a meadow while playing discus is…not.

I don’t mean that your personal view is wrong in anyway. Apollo is a divine character and anybody can have any view of him they would like. A lot of people view him as the antagonist of the Iliad and Achilles’ story, which to me, he just isn’t. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I love perspectives and opinions. I like sharing mine, so I love it when people share theirs.

[moonlight-bloop-rambles]

Big Wild west smp lore Theory

Spoilers for all recent Wild west smp lore! A few Disclaimers bevor:

I don’t know how coherent this will be as I do not keep up with all POVs but I has the theory for so long now and with the talk Spur, Jax and Olwyn had about what Sniper said in Jaxper’s last stream it just became more real.

This also might be a bit of a long one so it goes to Tumblr as to not overflow the Discord.

I hope this makes sense. It’s essencially a big brain dump because I need the theory out there in case I call it and in general. I apologize for grammar errors.

---

Alright here we go.

Things we know so far:

Ness has confirmed that he is a computer or something similar to at least Olwyn

Ness has also referenced to others as “players” and “entities”

There is a higher entity outside that can heat and see everything and is the reason Ness has to write certain things in Number code

Sniper consistently refers to themselves and a few other people on the island as “Not real”

Sniper said they are “as real as the ground they stand on”

Jay “became real”

Sniper says they were created

X is here to help the island

---

Now I want to mention a Film and a Series,

“The Trueman show” (should be familiar to people) and a series called “Westworld”

2 disclaimers:

Westworld is an ADULT SHOW if you are a minor PLEASE DON’T WATCH IT

I have watched neither of them, I just mention them here for what they are roughly about because its important

The Trueman show:

“The Truman Show is a TV classic all over the world. Since his birth, Truman Burbank has been the main character of the series without even knowing it. Producer Christof designed an artificial world in which Truman is observed by over 5,000 cameras 24 hours a day. To keep the facade from collapsing, his wife, friends and relatives are all actors. In episode 10,909, however, various accidental incidents occur that make Truman suspicious.” (google)

Westworld:

“In the 2050s, Delos Inc. operates several theme parks, including the American Old West-themed Westworld. Each environment is populated by the "Hosts", biomechanical robots indistinguishable from humans. The Hosts are programmed to fulfill the guests' every desire, and will engage in—and be subjected to—every kind of violent and/or sexual activity. However, the Hosts' programming makes it impossible for them to harm any living thing or allow the guests to be harmed. The park's operators create narratives for these Hosts to carry out while interacting with guests, but the Hosts' memories are wiped after each narrative is completed. Delos Inc. asserts that the Hosts, being machines and hence incapable of experiencing pain, cannot be truly harmed by these scenarios the same way that a human would be.“  (Wikipedia)

---

Now to my Theory:

I believe that the Island is somewhat of a Stage or something similar. Like a place marketed as “fun Wild West experience” to people. Be that an actual place or a digital world / game. The people that are “from the island” are either actors, robits or as we chat know “NPCs”.

The Cacti Hivemind

In my mind Senspa is already in a robots body and Ness and Senspa are like computer programs. That’s why the cactus hivemind exists. Its not real or magic in any way. Its just a “Senspa Programm” basically being installed into a new cacti body.

Jay

Jay “becoming real” is him gaining his own sentience that he was not supposed to have. Its what Sniper talks about when they have Jay. Jay is not supposed to have to eat, or sleep or love but because of the way Jay is he developed this love for the people around him and got sentience. Making him real. Now they still are linked to the others, able to sense Sniper, Jax and Spur and according to Sniper is something “in between”. Jay is not like the players. He is still and NPC or Programm. But he is no longer just that / mainly that.

Ness

The same thing happened to Ness. They where originally installed to help Senspa get back into the original program. To stop senspa from gaining consciousness too. That’s why it was also programmed with the sense of “Not interfering” as to not get attached and not develop that Love for the People.

Weird ways of talking / Not able to say certain things

Its also the reason why, I think, Scout talks so wildly and explaines things with analogys like the “Milktooth claw” thing and why Sniper, Senspa and Redbite could not say certain things. Not because something they are afraid of would hut them. No they can literally Not say certain things and Ness talks in code about certain things. It goes against their programming to say things so they have to talk around it.

Jaxper and Spur

Jaxper and Spur with the X in them are, according to Sniper, Something else. They are no like Sniper, mainly NPC/ Programm, or like Jay, between an NPC that is no longer mainly that. I think both Jax and Spur are still considered “players” that uploaded / created their own programming.

The “higher being / dangerous being ouside”

The being outside the border could very well just be a myth of the director / boss of whatever game the island is. Its called a Monster / higher being as to scare the “players” and keep them from escaping. Beckett did not know about that being and they were able to escape.

Redbite / The cicles

The people that came in on the train came in the first place to have fun and relax but it got out of control the Moment Redbite, also a Programm, gained a sentience she wasn’t supposed to have a long long time ago. She got attached to the players and changes the original main coding of the island creating the cicles.

This is the last cicle because the director being is unable to restart it as long as redbite is loged in the system. She is essencially a virus

The X

The X is here to fix the island and help it according to Sniper. I think is a different Programm / software trying to fix the damage Redbite did to it when making the cicles

The Biomes and Ruins

Because the Software / Island / Game is trying to fix itself with the X while the Virus is still there and has trapped the player inside the game. The Game is glitching and bringing back old elements from past cicles.

Ocie

Ocie was the first person to eat X. She put X a place where its no supposed to be. She was the only person to eat it and not immediately throw up or be at least somewhat uncomfortable. Spur and C.W., while not in absolute Pain like Jax and Josie after eating it, still said that it did not feel great. Ocie was fine while eating it till she wasn’t and switched to her alternative diet. I think because of for how long she has eaten X and how regularly she is eating it she glitched out part of her, giving her player stomach a virus essencially and putting her stomach on that level beyond player. Now with her alternative diet she is slowly putting it back to being a player.

At this point this is all I have on the Theory. If more comes up I will add onto this. I apologize for how long this is and how rambly. You are very welcome to add onto it and things.

[eliluvschan]

Guess the Girl :)

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 1.486

warnings: lots of fluff

genre: fluff

a/n: did y’all see the way this man teases Stay on ‘FANS’ ? there’s no way he wouldn’t be the same announcing his girlfriend 😩

—

Chan’s pov.

—

“baby!” i called my girlfriend’s attention. she’s my girlfriend of like, four months. and we both really like each other. my parents love her, and her’s love me. the company likes her and so do the boys. so we’re all good.

but the thing is, my fans don’t know yet. they’ve been getting very curious about it, though. i mean, i can only go to so many movies with the others, or alone. and since Y/n was a Stay herself, and i met her at a concert. not at a meet & greet.

i just saw an angelic, beautiful face in the crowd with the most happy, honest eyes- a lot of them are gonna be shocked. some might like us, some may not, and some may even send hate. i’m just worried about the last part.

“yeah?” she looked at me from above her phone in her hands, pausing the TikTok she was watching.

“i think i’m ready to tell Stay about us. what do you think?” i asked her, speaking slowly. i need her opinion for sure. what if she doesn’t want to tell them now? what if she wants to wait a little longer?

“it’s all up to you Channie. remember what Jyp pd님 said?” she smiled. okay, only my opinion matters now.

“you sure?” i asked.

“yep.” she confirmed.

“so we can’t just throw it in their faces, can we?”

“what do you mean?” she asked, looking rather like she was about to burst out laughing.

“i mean, i can’t just post a picture of us and go ‘hey y’all, this is Y/n. my girlfriend. we’ve been going out for four months and we really like each other’ .”

she let out a small laugh. “why not?” she asked.

“well, because one, i’m the creative one here, and i feel like playing a little game with them!” i said, leaning back in my seat as a hundred ways to tease them crossed my mind. i actually feel like teasing them, which i do most of the time during Chan’s room.

“i’ve got an idea!” i exclaimed and jumped up.

“what?” she put her phone away.

“let’s make them guess who you are!” i smiled brightly. she gave me a questioning look. i sat back down.

“look. we post a picture of us together, but maybe conceal half of your gorgeous face.” she blushed here. “or take a picture only showing one side of your face or something like that.” i continued. “should be fun?”

she leaned back and gave me a half smile. “okay.”

i smiled back and took my phone to open Instagram.

i took a photo Y/n took of me and shared it to my story.

i smirked as notifications started rolling in.

“well, i see the fandom’s got something to be eager about now.” she chuckled, scrolling down her own profile. i shook my head, half in disbelief at questions people dm’ed me and half in amusement.

“yep. now we need help.”

—❀—

“Jagiya! you ready?” i asked Y/n excitedly. she put her hair up in a bun and pulled her hood on her head. then she checked herself out in the mirror- can i just say she is the prettiest thing i ever set eyes on?

she smiled happily and followed me outside where Hyunjin stood ready with his phone. he will post a picture of us, in a discussed position.

“positions.” he commanded, in a professional photographer style. pabo.

but we did as he told us to. Y/n got up on a little stone pole and threw her arms around my neck. both of us had put on our hoods.

“got it!” Hyunjin shouted as he took the picture.

we went back inside and got comfortable around the kitchen. Chan and i were laughing, at the reactions he was getting.

@/hynjinnnn

@/hynjinnnn Channie hyung and …Someone ;) #GuessTheGirl

hilarious. i opened my Instagram and liked the photo.

then to tease Stay a bit more, i decided to share a photo on my story.

“very funny, Mr. Bang.” she said.

“what?” i laughed. she gave me an ‘not funny’ look and i stopped and pouted. she giggled and pecked my lips, as i smiled at her.

“next?” she asked. “tomorrow.” i told her. she nodded and disappeared outside.

next pose. what should it be? tease them? go easy on them?

—

i woke up and got ready for the day. after shoving down some breakfast, i drove over to Y/n’s place to pick her up. i haven’t asked her to move in with me yet, but soon i will.

“hey baby!” she greeted me as she hugged me tightly.

“hey. i missed you.” i kissed her forehead. “missed you too.” she smiled. we had a little nose-fight and then we proceeded to her lounge. i spent the day at her house, cuddling, watching movies, goofing around, and then for dinner, i took her back to our dorm.

guess the girl, picture two, goes up tonight.

“hey guys.” Seungmin smiled at us as he saw us on the couch. she was actually on my lap and quickly got off. she’s still shy around the guys.

i pulled her back on and kissed her softly. “ew.” i heard Hyunjin and then heard the guys leave. she smiled kn the kiss. i pulled away. she smiled, her eyes shining. i nuzzled my face in her neck, and we spent another few minutes in each other’s company.

“Seung! picture time!” i yelled over my shoulder.

“be right there!” he called back. and only minutes later he was there, ready with his phone.

i picked Y/n up and threw her over my shoulder. but instead of keeping her like that, i put my head between her legs. Y/n made a flying motion with her arms as she laughed. her hair was in a bun and her face was slightly blurry so it wasn’t clear.

“all done guys.” Seungmin said as he took the picture. i put Y/n back on hr feet and together we looked at the photo Seungmin took of us.

@/miniverse.__

@/miniverse.__ Chan hyung’s girlfriend is honestly the sweetest person alive ;) you guys are gonna love her. #GuessTheGirl!

i chuckled, as my notifications blew up. i scrolled through them and stopped at one. someone’s got the answer right. someone named Da-eun.

“hey, do you know someone named Da-eun?” i asked. she nodded and right at that moment, she took out her phone. “oh yeah. Eun guessed it.” she said, showing me her dm’s.

‘is that you with Chan? OMG! OMG! OMG! why didn’t you tell me?! i’m so happy for you both!!!’

“should i tell her?” she asked.

i nodded. she smiled and began to type. minutes later, a few others guessed as well.

then suddenly a notification from Changbin popped up.

@/jutdwae

@/jutdwae grossest couple ever. #Don’tGuessTheGirl :P

he took a photo of us while we were laying in bed, her face surrounded by her hair. looked like it was taken a few days ago.

then Lix had tagged both me and Changbin.

@/yong.lixx

@/yong.lixx shut up Changbin. #GuessTheGirl

and with that, a picture of me spinning her around when we went ice skating. it was taken a few weeks ago. she wore my beanie and let her hair loose so you wouldn’t see her face.

after Lix’s post, i shared another photo to my story.

then came a notification from Jeongin.

@/i.2.n.8

@/i.2.n.8 these two are so in love, it makes me sick 🤮

i checked my timeline and most people had guessed right.

“Channie?”

“hmm?” i looked up.

“just tell them already.” she said.

i laughed and shook my head.

“why not?” Y/n asked.

“well, i don’t feel like it yet, and it’s so fun to see them making wild guesses.” i said.

“but they’ve guessed.” she said waving her phone in my face.

“everyone?” i asked, sitting up.

“mostly everyone i know, yes.”

“okay.” i sighed. “that was quick. i was hoping to tease them more.”

she rolled her eyes.

@/gnabnahc

@/gnabnahc if you guessed @/yourname you guessed right! well played ;) #GuessTheGirl

“really, baby?”

i laughed. “what?”

“i told them. the guessed who my girl is. you.” i said, putting my arms around her neck and kissing her cheek.

“i love you.” she mumbled into my shirt. did i hear that right?

“w- what?” why the hell am i stuttering?

“i love you.” she repeated.

“i- i love you too ba- baby girl.” i said, and felt my cheeks burn. what is happening to me?

“you do?”

“you guessed right, too!”

~

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

I wake to war.

I step through a portal, and everywhere I step, chitauri fall, scream, die. I am a machine, I am a monster; I am a force of vengeance. I fight through hordes of alien beasts, cutting a line through them, but no matter how how many fall, more rise to take their place until an explosion rocks the world and chitauri dissolve in puffs of ash and dust.

I later learn that that explosion was Tony Stark, and that he gave his life in a desperate bid to save everyone else’s. Even then, it all seems surreal— they say I’ve been gone five long years, and that the world that I’ve come back to is not my own.

But I haven’t been gone for five years. Others who were dusted were just… gone. No memories, no heaven, no fever dream paradise where their every wish came true. But I had all of those things. I wasn’t gone— I was asleep.

I was dreaming.

And, best of all, I think I know why.

Hunting her would be easier with Natasha— she was always and ever a better spy than me when it came to finding a mark— but I make do on my own. In between helping the new Captain America settle into his shield, I search the world over for the girl of my dreams. Even though I know her first name and what her face looks like, it still takes me six months to find her. 

It’s funny— in a year’s time, I never asked her how we met originally. Or, I guess it was five years. Doesn’t matter. The thing is that her presence in my mind— because there is a presence, one that I’ve only just been able to distinguish as her and not me— feels as if she’s always been there. Maybe she has.

I don’t have a lot of time to ponder it all, though. The Wakandan jungle is dense, and even a guy like me could die here if he lets his guard down.

She is so still, so soundless that I nearly miss her as I stalk from shadow to shadow. Her quarry, the same chitauri hybrid creature that attacked us in the dream, is no more aware of her than a tree is aware of its shadow. I watch with interest as she moves closer, spinning her weapons idly in each hand. One moment the creature she hunts is whole. The next, it is split in half right down the middle by the spinning circular blade she hurls at it.

I grin. So that part of the dream had been real, too. I’d thought so, but it was nice to see my theory confirmed, in part, by reality.

However, her near-constant awareness of me and my emotional state doesn’t seem to extend to the real world. She continues about her task, salvaging parts of the beast, and doesn’t notice me until I call out to her.

“Come here often?”

She jumps nearly out of her skin and lets out a cry that startles birds from their branches. I move out of the shadows, grinning like a loon, and her eyes widen in recognition.

“Bucky?” 

My name is half squeak, half gasp from her lips. She starts, then covers her mouth, realizing her mistake. She’s never met me in person before— not that I can remember anyway. There’s no reason she would know my name outside of her influence on my mind.

“Yeah,” I say, grinning, awkward, but overjoyed. “It’s me.”

She stands there for a moment. I can sense the wheels turning in her mind— can actually feel panic racing through her in my head. The realization is like a full-body zing from head to toe. It goes both ways. 

It goes both ways.

“Have we…” she trails off, staring hard at my face. “Have we met before?”

I grin.

“I met you in a dream,” I say, looking at her in rapturous wonder. “And… you’ve known me a long time, I think.”

I take a step forward. She takes a step back.

“Don’t be scared,” I tell her.

She cocks her head to the side, not yet trusting my intentions. 

“I’m not scared.”

I shake my head. She can’t lie to me any more than I can lie to her.

“Not true. I can feel you now. I’m sorry I couldn’t before.”

She shakes her head in disbelief, but I continue on.

“It all makes sense, now that I’ve had time to think. But I need you to say it.”

I step forward again, and when she steps back, she stumbles over the twitching arm of the chitauri, its nerves jumping in its death throes. I surge forward and catch her, my metal arm closing around her soft flesh one. Her eyes, so wide and beautiful, meet mine. They flash with the quiet terror of uncertainty, but she does not back away again. 

“You’ve kept me alive,” I tell her. “And not just during the time I was dusted. You’ve been there since the beginning, haven’t you?”

Speechless, she nods.

“How long?”

She shakes her head. Tears are forming in her eyes— tears of shame, embarrassment , fear— and I wish she would listen to the warmth that is in my heart.

“Please.” I stroke her arm with my thumb. She shivers. “Don’t I deserve to know that much?”

Her eyes search mine. Then, with a great and terrible effort, she says,

“Since the fall. I think I was… dormant, then. But I heard your cry and I felt your fear in my dream. And then… and then I woke up.”

So I was right.

“You saved me. You’re the reason I remember everything I did as the Winter Soldier. You’re why I recognized Steve, why I was able to successfully overcome my programming. 

I shake my head in awe and wonder.

“You’ve protected me. You’re my guardian angel.”

“Half-angel,” she corrects sheepishly, trembling, “and a piss-poor guardian. I let you get iced and dusted, after all. I’m sorry about that, by the way. The dream, I mean. It was a last-ditch effort to keep you conscious on this plane. I’m sorry if it caused you any pain— that was the furthest thing from my intention.”

I blink once, twice, then blurt out the only thing I know to be true.

“I’m in love with you,” I tell her, utterly sure.

“With a version of me, perhaps,” she says, her eyes frantically searching mine. “My dreams do sometimes get away from me. But as for me me— I don’t know that you would like me at all.”

I slip my hand up her arm, past her shoulder, up to cradle her face

“In this life and every life, waking and dreaming.” The words feel right. They resonate deeply in my chest, sonorous and sure. “I’ve sworn it and I mean it and I’ll prove it to you again if I have to. I’ve looked the world over to find you just to swear it again to you in the waking world.”

“That’s just it— you swore it in a dream, Bucky,” she says gently, cupping my face with a warm hand in turn. The touch is electric with a gasping, fragile want. “Give yourself a minute to wake up.”

“I have spent a lifetime asleep. As the Winter Soldier, I spent the better part of seventy years sleeping…. But you kept me conscious through it all, didn’t you?”

When she shies away, bashful, I take her free hand in my metal one and hold it tenderly.

“But I’m here now, awake and alive and here, and I love you.” I lean my forehead against hers. “If I have to start all over again, win you over and make you happy, I will. It will be a privilege and a pleasure.”

She sighs, but smiles a timid smile.

“You were always and ever such a charmer.”

“I’ve been told I have a way with women,” I tell her with a grin.

“I’m starting to see that.”

I brush a hand over her hair, cradle her head with it. Even in the real world, she is so very beautiful that she seems half a dream.

“Come home with me. I don’t intend to waste another minute of this life apart from you.”

She’s reluctant. She’s afraid. But dammit, she’s got fight. She squares her shoulders, puts on a brave smile, and says,

“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. 

“I am.”

I take her hand once more. She squeezes the warm flesh between her fingers. 

Oh yeah, I think, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. We’re gonna be just fine.

[possibilistfanfiction]

if you're still taking caitvi prompts: first time

do with that whatever you wish, i love seeing what you come up with

[caitvi wedding!! if there's one thing about me it's that i love outside pov so some ekko pov, some little hints of 207 :) ao3 if u want.]

//

'and you're sure you have the rings?'

jinx groans from where she's sitting on the couch and flops back dramatically, no regard whatsoever for her dress; you roll your eyes but vi is so clearly nervous you pat your pocket and assure her, 'right here, just like they were five minutes ago.'

'okay,' she says, then looks in the mirror one more time. she fusses with her hair, her undercut neat and the rest swept back out of her face; she straightens her already perfectly tailored suit jacket. you share a smile with jinx when she lets out a big breath.

'let's go get you married then, yeah?'

vi blushes all over again, an expression you could only accurately describe as lovesick on her face. jinx groans again but she happily tucks her arm into the crook of your elbow when you offer, kisses you on the cheek.

/

vander is crying before he even starts walking vi down the aisle, while you wait in the wing of the reception hall attached to the truly gorgeous garden that they're getting married in. it's a much larger affair than vi had wanted but a much smaller one than caitlyn's mom had tried to insist on, and there are fairy lights and, predictably, violets everywhere, and vander hugs vi tight before you and jinx get your cue to walk down the aisle before them.

it's more pomp and circumstance than vi wanted — the rows of chairs, each side fairly equally attended, and the full course meal at the reception, and the string orchestra who starts to play. you helped plan most parts of it: jinx was officially vi's best man, a title she insisted on, but you'd helped out with a lot of the logistics she didn't really seem to have capacity to deal with on her own. it was fun, though, to work together with one another and with jayce, caitlyn's maid of honor — another title jinx insisted on, which had made jayce laugh while he easily agreed — to truly irritate cassandra, as she politely, after a few months, insisted you call her. for all her intensity that had driven jinx up the wall, you could tell she really does love caitlyn, and caitlyn loves vi, so the compromises became easier and easier as your planning moved along.

and now, it's perfect, you think as you stand next to jinx and watch vi get teary the second she sees caitlyn in her wedding gown, tobias smiling widely beside her. she's tall and regal and graceful and pretty, and when tobias kisses vi's cheek and then sets caitlyn's hand gently in vi's outstretched one, blushes on both of their cheeks, you let out a relieved breath because it's actually happening, and it's all turned out so wonderful.

the ceremony itself is short, and they say their vows through easy, happy tears, caitlyn using vi's full name at one point in a tone so reverent, in a way only she can manage, in a way only she has ever had permission to, even you feel like you might cry. you hand the officiant the rings when it's time, and vi smiles at you, and her hands shake but they're strong and purposed when she slides the diamond band onto caitlyn's finger, and then caitlyn kisses vi's palm before slipping the thick, simple gold band onto her finger. soon enough, they kiss — short and sweet but with enough passion to make jinx grimace, which makes you laugh as you squeeze her hand — and then they're introduced, for the first time, as the kirammans, together.

/

the reception is, quite genuinely, the best party you've ever been to, thank you very much. there's dinner, and tons of finger food, and you're relieved that both vi and caitlyn actually do manage to eat because they both constantly have a glass of champagne in their hands, accepting many toasts. they share a first dance, vi very seriously concentrating on the steps from the classes she took and the moves she practiced with you and jinx until caitlyn grins and kisses her cheek and whispers something in her ear; vi laughs and her posture relaxes while she tucks her head into the crook of caitlyn's neck and they just sway, easy, happy, an intimacy earned over years of steadfastness.

there's the father-daughter dance, vander and vi making quite the pair next to the easy elegance, born and bred, of caitlyn and tobias, but they end up laughing together by the end. vander and tobias sit together afterward; they're family, now, but they have been for years already too.

'hey, cass,' jinx says, leaning back in her chair when she notices caitlyn's mom walking up to your table. she has a pinched expression on her face at the nickname, and you have to fight the urge not to laugh — but she's family too. for all of cassandra's annoyance, you think she actually does have a soft spot for jinx.

you're proven right when she sits down, poised as ever, and says, 'i just wanted to thank you both.' she looks over at caitlyn and vi, who are wrapped up in each other. vi's hair has lost some of its careful styling, starting to fall into her eyes, and she's ditched her suit jacket, draping it over caitlyn's shoulders instead. caitlyn's eyes are a little unfocused, an unknown number of champagne glasses in, her cheeks flushed, a gentle hand on vi's jaw before they kiss. 'i've never seen caitlyn so happy.'

'you can say it,' jinx responds. 'we were right.'

cassandra sighs, displeased, but then, after a beat, they both laugh. 'perhaps we owe ekko, our peacemaker.'

'you definitely do. i accept venmo, paypal, zelle, or also you can just pay our rent.'

cassandra raises a brow, but it's fond and amused, so much like caitlyn. 'i was under the impression that, perhaps, my daughter might already be doing a fair amount of that.'

caitlyn does help with the rent on the apartment you and jinx share, it's true, and she randomly has groceries delivered sometimes; she and vi have taken you and jinx on some pretty epic climbing trips, and neither you nor jinx are going to finish your graduate programs with any debt. but, still, 'new car, then?'

cassandra laughs and jinx leans forward, intrigued. 'great suggestion, babe.' she slings an arm around your shoulder. 'cassandra, we'll get back to you on the make and model. hybrid, though, for sure.'

cassandra rolls her eyes but, when she stands, she does wrap jinx in a soft hug, and then squeezes your shoulder.

jinx clears her throat, and you decide to spare her from any teasing, just this once. a song comes on that you both love, and she perks up. you grin, and then offer your hand. 'may i have this dance?'

she rolls her eyes but she takes your hand tenderly and leads you to the dance floor.

/

thankfully, even though you'd been best man part 2 — jinx's official title for you — you don't have to give a toast. jinx does, though, or at least she'd badgered her way into caitlyn and vi letting her; she's still, always will be, a loose canon, but she's deeply cared about this wedding, so you know she wouldn't be too crazy.

she tells a funny, sweet story about how vi would always scare her monsters away when they were little and then continues. 'caitlyn, i'm very grateful that i get to annoy you officially now, forever.' caitlyn laughs, so content. 'and vi, thank you for saving my life, so many times and in so many ways. and thank you for being my big sister. i love you.' vi wipes under her eyes and smiles so big jinx can only smile back just the same. she lifts her glass. 'to the happy couple.'

/

the party is dwindling down, caitlyn and vi already having left to go to their hotel room before they leave on their honeymoon in the morning. jinx swipes a bottle of champagne and takes your hand, then leads you out to a terrace that overlooks the city and sits on the edge, her dress carefully tucked beneath her.

'some night,' she says, wistful.

it's hard to look at her, now, without getting overwhelmed, so you keep staring at the buildings, far off in the distance, their shine and shimmer. 'it's beautiful.'

'where'd you learn those moves?' she asks, teasing.

you've danced together for years, all through college and grad school, but, still, tonight was special. 'oh, i was just following your lead.'

jinx laughs. 'he's got lines.'

you laugh, and you sit in the quiet with her for a bit.

'thank you,' she says, eventually, quietly, so sincere your heart breaks a little bit.

'for what?'

she gestures in the air vaguely, and you understand that sometimes things are just too big for words. it had been a hard few months, far beyond wedding planning: one of jinx's most important medications had started to have worse and eventually untenable physical side effects, so she'd had to be hospitalized to figure out a new combination that would help keep her psychologically stable much more comfortably and safely, and with fewer other medications to manage side effects. it was easier than it was in the past — partially because caitlyn had gotten her, immediately, into the best program in the nicest facility with experts she herself had recruited, but mostly because jinx was so determined to get better again, on board for all of it. even on the days she wasn't as lucid as you'd grown so used to, her psychosis was different: gentler, less tortured. she was kind to you, through it all.

'you know you never have to thank me for stuff like that,' you say. 'getting to have all of this with you, it's more than i ever dreamed.'

'still,' she says, and she's so beautiful. 'i know i’m… a lot. so y hank you.'

'you know i'd never give up on you, right?' you tuck a strand of hair, grown out in the past year so that it sits at her shoulders now, bangs that you'd clumsily helped her cut one night like you were kids again, behind her ear gently. her eyes are so clear, so blue. she tucks her head into her chest and you wrap your arm around her. you've loved her your whole life; you've loved her like this for years. 'but it's such a happy night,' you say. 'want to just... pretend like it's the first time?'

it's hard, sometimes, to hold all the grief of your lives when you were younger, all the grief of a brain so troubled and so extraordinary, in the same hands that hold all the joy — your palms aren't big enough, or they're too rough, or they're not strong enough, or they shake and tremble and it all slips through your fingers. it's hard but it's worth it, when she feels it too, when you get to hold it together.

her hand is gentle on your jaw, cool and thin and brilliant, and it's easy to remember your first kiss, to remember all the first kisses that came after that as she healed too. it's easy to kiss her again, for the first time. there are vows here too, ones the two of you say all the time: you make sure she eats and she makes sure you get to bed on time; you lift the weight of the world off of each other's shoulders with silly inventions you make together, and belaying safely, and holding her when she can't quite make out what's real and what isn't. you're real, and your love is real, and the promises are holy, and unspoken, and there all the same.

she sniffles when you back up. 'who knew vi's stupid wedding would make me so emotional?'

you laugh, wipe under her eyes to catch her slightly smeared mascara. 'i could've guessed.'

'we're never doing this, right?'

'a kiramman wedding? god no.'

she grins.

'i'd elope for tax cuts, though, if you ever wanted.'

'incredibly romantic.'

you both laugh and you lace your fingers with hers and then shrug. 'it's you and me.' you bring your joined hands to your mouth and gently kiss the top of hers.

'you and me, forever,' she adds.

'that sounds pretty good.'

'yeah.' she looks out at the city, the light brought down like stars. 'it does.'