#i spent a whole day getting those injuries looking good

[akirakirxaa]

POV: You're an NPC a few weeks after the Final Days were ended. You spy the Warrior of Light while going about your business.

She seems to be on the mend and in good spirits. You think to yourself that you should ask her to do a mundane task for you.

But you won't.

[Yes this was inspired by that picture of the cheetah with her cubs and the poster going "I want to cuddle them *zoom in on mama cheetah death glare* but I won't".]

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: suggestive content, toilet talk, mentions of injuries, hostility, tension, repressed emotions, isekai-ed reader, reader is in princess cerena's body, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo

⟡ masterlist

ACT 2, SCENE 1: THE INFIRMARY

The fading sun spilled over your mother’s deep set smile, the sight of paddy stalks swaying in the wind instantly bringing relief to your worried soul. 

You found yourself lying on the engawa with her, the veranda stretching out as far as your gaze could comprehend; your eyes lazily following the last of the brilliant orange sunset rays weaving through the idyllic pink and purple skies. Your mother laughed at something you said, and you clinked your cup of rice wine with hers, drinking deeply and heartily, content and fully at peace with where you are now.

“Wake up,” she suddenly whispered into your ear, nudging your shoulder. 

Like a mirage in the middle of a shimmering desert, her face disintegrated in front of you, warm eyes turning a crystalline, cold blue.

The magnificence of the splendid skies fade into timbered ceilings, flickers of shadows from the fireplace belching out heat dancing across the latticed wood, drawing your bleary focus towards the pockets of dark intermingling with light.

You groaned, shifting on the hard mattress, and heard a rustle from your right. 

The same blue eyes that haunted you in your dreams wavered into view, Satoru’s face hovering above yours.

You screeched, grappling for something—anything to defend yourself with—pure fear lighting up every nerve ending in your body with a vivid cocktail of adrenaline and terror.

“Calm down, woman,” Satoru mumbled, gripping your scrambling hands, trying to ease you back onto the bed.

But, your mind was filled with the rampant memories of him chasing after you through the thick foliage, the sword brandishing against your bare neck. Your pupils turned into pinpricks from the fear and your breaths came out as labored exhales, the delayed shock leaving you cold and hot all over.

“Stay away from me.” 

You tried to put some distance from him, using what little strength that was left in your limbs to push yourself further up the bed, curling your shoulders inward like a prey trying to make itself smaller in front of an apex predator.

His lips twitched in the corners, those oceanic, cold eyes freezing over with distaste.

“I spent three whole nights trying to keep your fever at bay, and this is the gratitude that I get?” 

Satoru’s incensed words barely stirred a flicker of guilt from you, your weary eyes fastened on to him, refusing to let him out of your sight. He took one look at you, this unruly princess with perspiration dewing on her brow, and sighed, reaching for a glass of water by your bedside. His grip on your chin used less considerable force than before, and reluctantly, you parted your lips, drinking from his hand deeply. 

Once you satiated your thirst, Satoru set the glass back on the hardwood side table, his crystalline gaze scrutinizing you all over. 

Closer this time, you took a good look at him. 

Dark circles bedraggled his usual princely countenance, and his frosty white hair was sticking up at odd ends, as if he had frustratedly raked his fingers through them over and over again. The scruff of a five o’clock shadow darkened his chin, and you resisted the urge to touch the fading red lesions on his face, suddenly feeling immense guilt for how you had jumped at the opportunity to harm him.

“Wasp stings,” he scoffed, raising a brow. “I knew princesses were delicate, but to faint from such a common insect bite? You are far weaker than I imagined.” 

Whatever pity you felt for him in that split second of humanity shattered at his careless and callous words. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed, turning your face away.

“Yes, I am allergic to wasp stings,” you sneered. “I apologize that I forgot to mention that when you were literally chasing after me with a broadsword, Your Highness.”

There was little doubt of the derision at the utterance of his title, and Satoru tensed, his own eyes narrowing at your impertinence.

“Astounding. After everything I’ve done for you, Cerena—”

He turned his face away from you abruptly, as if he could not comprehend why he was here in the first place. The Prince stalked over to the fireplace, hands behind his back, watching the flames lap at the charred pieces of firewood. 

Not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, you eased from the bed, trying to stand on your shaky legs while using the headboard for support.

As if he had a beacon on you, Satoru was instantly at your side, gripping your elbow and supporting you back into bed. 

“Stay where you are, Cerena,” he hissed, the frustration in his tone unmistakable. “Do not strain yourself and hurt yourself again, you foolish girl.”

In retaliation, you glared at him, feeling the urge in your bladder overtaking your common sense to keep your distance from him. “I need to relieve myself in a toilet, you sick sadist. Let me go.”

Unperturbed by your choice of colorful words, Satoru nudged a blackened pot closer to you with the tip of his hunting boot, gesturing at it. 

“What in the world is a ‘toilet’? You shall use a chamber pot like everybody else.”

However, he didn't expect your eyes to widen as you took in the strange, earthenware. “That… is a chamber pot?” You haven’t exactly seen one before, though you had read about it in fantasy novels.

Satoru’s brows knitted together, and he looked at you as if you had sprouted two heads. 

“Do not tell me you have not seen a chamber pot before?” 

His words rang hollowly in your heated ears, and you turned your gaze from the intimidating object and back to him again, the questioning look in your eyes apparent even in the low, firelight. 

“I just… relieve myself in there?” 

You knew what this must look like to him: if you were confronted by the sight of someone who couldn’t even use a toilet bowl, you might be questioning their motor skills and mental capacities. The skepticism on his face spoke loud volumes to his consternation and faltering patience.

“Yes, Cerena. You… relieve yourself in there.” 

Unbeknownst to you, the prince was blushing, his face turned away from his befuddled fiancée, staring at the wall as if it could tell him the secrets of the universe. 

Right. You had to go and since Satoru was stubbornly rooting himself in this room, you made a sound of consternation in your throat and tried to fight off the heat threatening to burn your entire face off. 

“Could you… give me some privacy?” Politely, you added, “Please?” 

To your utter frustration, Satoru snorted, shaking his head. “So you can escape again and force me to hunt you down? No. You will relieve yourself right here with me in the room together with you.” He spun his head around to raise a brow, as if to goad you into challenging his edict. 

Flushing, you curled your upper lip over your teeth, attempting to fix a snarl on your face that you hoped would keep him at bay.

“Excuse me? And since when were you allowed to encroach into my privacy? This is insane…” 

Trailing off, you did not expect Satoru’s sneer to deepen, the flame of hatred igniting in his blue eyes, taunting you with cerulean vindication. 

“Insane? Perhaps. Smart? Yes,” his nostrils flared. “I cannot risk having you evade me for a second time, Cerena.” 

You wanted to argue that you weren’t the woman he despised, but nature’s call was hard to ignore. Huffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying not to think too hard about how thin the nightgown was to bring attention to your curves hidden underneath the see-through linen.

It appeared as if Satoru, too, was trying hard not to flicker his gaze to your chest, playing the role of a gentlemanly prince well enough, despite the lack of spectators here to denounce his poor treatment of you. 

Staring him down, you fought to keep your natural urges under control, needing to shake him up with your determination. But, whatever stubbornness your actions were made up of, Satoru’s were multiplied by tenfold as those icy blue eyes bore into yours with the chilliness of an ocean in the middle of an icy tundra. 

Eventually, your need to go won out and you let your arms fall to your side, exhausted sigh echoing across the infirmity. 

“Fine. But, can I be spared some privacy, please?” 

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Satoru turned around, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood to the side of the room, giving you a wide berth to conduct your bodily eliminations in private. 

Hiking up the hem of your nightgown, you finished your business, finding it extraordinarily hard to keep your balance while squatting over the earthen receptacle. Satoru, having heard you clean up after yourself, turned back around, and if you dared to look closer, you would’ve seen the splotches of red adorning his cheeks betraying his natural instinct of shame at having been in close proximity to such a private occurrence. 

You struggled to get back into bed, surprised to find his hand shooting out to steady your arm, letting you lean on his strength. With barely a hitch, you flopped back onto the bed, gasping in mild pain when your aching body met the mattress.  

Now that you were far more level-headed after relieving yourself, you could give the matter at hand your full attention.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” 

Barely mincing your words or stopping to consider the delicacy of his presence right in your infirmary room. Your glare spoke volumes of your distaste and confusion; if he were a lesser man, Satoru might indulge in your obvious confusion, gloatingly holding it above your head.

“I have told you,” he uttered. “It is because I am here to watch you.” 

You glanced around, noting the quiet room and the lack of human presence which wouldn't lead to any trouble. 

“Um. Alright…” 

Without warning, he advanced closer to you, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to look right into his glacial eyes, a terrifying glare etched on his face. 

“Your antics in the forest were beyond idiotic, Cerena. I have not forgiven you for what you did to me—” pointing at the reddened swellings on his neck and face, the thunderous look in his eyes could have consumed you alive with his pure hatred for you. “—and you will pay for this once you get better.” 

The sharp gleam of his toothy grin made you flinch, the bloodthirsty look on his face enough to make you assume the worst: that Prince Gojo Satoru was going to call for a harsh enough punishment to debilitate and agonize you. Images of a flogger hitting your bare skin, or your body dangling from the gallows flashed in your mind and you inadvertently took a step back from him, your eyes wide and fixated upon his face with a look of pure horror.

“Satoru…”

Like a great white sniffing out your weakness, the blasted man advanced closer to you, never relenting upon his frightsome smile.

“Why the sudden fear in your eyes, Cerena? Are you regretting how you treated me? The crap you put me through!” His voice rang throughout the room like a gunshot and you struggled to your feet, stumbling backwards against the wall, slapping a palm to your mouth to keep your shriek of fear from slipping past your trembling defenses. 

“Satoru, stop!” 

But, he would not listen to you. A murderous glint had overtaken Gojo’s usually stoic blue eyes, stinking of retribution and retaliation in payment for whatever Cerena had done to him. 

You could not stand for such accusations hurled into your face again, the burning need to know the wrongs the Princess had committed that earned her such wrath from Satoru disintegrating the last of your hesitation as you blurted out: 

“I am not Princess Cerena!” 

As if your words were a magical incantation, he paused. You could see the cogs turning in his head, the implications of your declaration working through his brain. 

“What do you mean you are not Cerena?” Astounded and frustrated, Satoru’s blue gaze froze over, threatening to leave you in the roiling of its frigid waves. “That is absurd. Have you gone mad? Or, did the venom of the wasp stings affect your brain?” 

You had just noticed the thin, white linen shirt he wore which exposed a sliver of his pale chest, the frosty white tips of his hair falling across his face, shading his eyes in their disarray.

Never in your life had you felt this helpless, unsure of how to piece together your words. 

“I am not her,” you finished in a quiet tone. “I am from another world. A world which is different from yours.”

Satoru scoffed, as if finding the very idea disturbing. “What other world? You know what, maybe you need to speak to the physician. This is getting out of hand.” 

Unexpectedly, you stomped your foot, training your baleful glare onto him. 

“Get it into your thick skull, Satoru! I am not Princess Cerena!” Huffing, you decided to lay all your cards on the table, uncaring how he would receive your words. Maybe he might punish you or send you to a lunatic house, keeping you far away from court. But, there might be the slim chance that he would believe you, if only you could convince him. 

“My name is Y/N and I am from Earth. I work as a florist in a family-owned shop, and before I arrived here, I was struck on the head by a thief and I woke up in Cerena’s body just as you were berating me for hurting your precious Miri.”

His nostrils flared, probably not enjoying how you brought his lover into this conversation. 

The disbelief and distrust on his face was not hard to sense. 

“What do you mean by that?” His demands were laced with agitation. “Are you trying to deceive me? That will entail a punishment far worse than when you tried to assault me, Cerena.” 

You were shaking your head before he could even finish. “No, I am not trying to deceive you, I promise. What I’m saying is real and true.”

Yet, he looked like he could scarcely believe you. 

Your quick mind came up with the idea on the fly. “Quick, tell me something only Princess Cerena would know.” 

Satoru huffed, but played along, which was a good sign. 

“Fine. Say I believe your demented words. One thing only she knows about me…” Satoru trailed off, and for a brief moment, you swore you caught a look of grief flitting across his expression.

“Tell me when is my birthday.” 

You floundered, having no idea when he was born. The prince was a mystery to you, and this was the perfect question to prove your identity that you were not the princess. 

Tossing a random date, you murmured, “December the 7th?” 

You had expected him to scoff and tell you that getting such a simple question wrong wouldn’t prove anything, when you noticed he had stiffened, those crystalline blue eyes growing wide.

“Wait… did you just say December the 7th?” 

You nodded, gnawing on your lower lip. 

“See, I told you, I am not the Princess–”

“That is my exact birthdate.” 

Satoru’s words made you come to a hard pause. You looked up at him with horror inscribed on your features. 

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Even Cerena did not know when my real birth date was…” he added reluctantly, “Royals aren’t allowed to share the precise moment of our birth and we have a fictitious date made up for the general public’s knowledge.” 

Satoru’s fixated gaze upon you burned as if you were touched by glowing embers. 

“How did you know when my real birthday was?” 

Suspicion lined his tone now, and you were well-aware that you had stepped into a different territory with a different arena of mistrust now. 

You shake your head. “It was merely a lucky guess.”

His derisive scoff burned your ears. “A lucky guess? Hardly. You know something I do not.”

Raising your hands, you tried to placate him. “I swear to you, I had no idea my guess would be correct.” 

Once more stumped at how to prove your innocence, you were struck by the contemplative thought that if you were in her body, perhaps there was a blemish of Cerena’s that only Satoru might know about.

“Okay. Since I cannot prove my innocence to you, let us try this.” You took one wobbly step towards him, his skillful cerulean gaze pinpointing your every movement with a sharp gaze. 

Standing chest-to-chest with him, you narrowed your eyes. 

“Tell me what blemish Cerena has on her body and I will show you that it is missing on mine.”

You had done a thorough examination of Cerena’s body back in Aeva’s hut, combing through your reflection in a mirror to assess who you truly were. You made the discovery that her skin was spotless, barely a mole or a wart. If Satoru had intimate knowledge of what flaws she had on her body, perhaps when she had mentioned it to him back when they were courting, you could dissuade him by proving that you were unspotted and taintless. 

Growing pensive at your suggestion, Satoru touched his forehead, trying to get his confusion under control. 

“Fine,” he relented. “Cerena has a birthmark right on her inner thigh. If you can show me it does not exist on your body, perhaps I may be swayed to believe you.” 

Perfect. You didn’t hesitate to sit on the edge of the bed, hiking up the hem of your nightgown to display your unmarked skin, the firelight throwing a warm, orange glow over the smooth expanse of your shin, like the flames were intimately caressing you. 

“See?” You uttered triumphantly, and bared yourself further to his wandering eye. “No birthmark. No blemish. I am not Cerena.” 

What you hadn’t expected was his cheeks to brighten with a blush. Satoru coughed and looked away, averting his eyes out of respect for your honor. 

“You didn’t… you did not have to show off yourself in such a brazen way.” 

Cocking your head to the side, you regard him with a confused countenance.

“What do you mean by that, Satoru?” 

He cleared his throat, the pink flush on the apples of his cheeks refusing to abate.

“You are a princess, despite who you believe you are.” The rasp of his fingertips brushing your hand sent a jolt up your spine. Satoru brushed your fist from the hem of your nightgown away, taking it upon himself to tug it back down and make you decent once more. “And princesses do not go around baring their bodies to other men… even if he is her betrothed.” 

Your brow furrowed in befuddlement, thrown off by such a chaste idea.

“Hang on,” suspicion flooded your next question. “If you claimed you were as moral as you are now, how did you know Cerena has a birthmark on her inner thigh if you had never seen it before?” 

He raised a brow, knowing something you didn’t. “It is customary for the matchmaker to scrutinize a princess from head to toe, taking in her countenance, her health and her virtue before recommending her to another royal family. I know details about Cerena’s body despite never having seen it myself.”

Oh. You supposed that made sense. 

Circling back to the topic at hand, you purse your lips. “So, do you believe me now? Believe who I am?” 

Despite the distrust swimming between the two of you, Satoru cannot deny that there was a sliver of truth in the bullshit you laid out for him; a kernel of understanding thrown in this confusing haystack of this sudden revelation.

“Say I believe you, What are we to do now? Where can I find the real princess and bring her back?” 

Satoru’s cerulean eyes glimmered with an undeniable hope, one which you regretted having to douse before it could fully bloom. 

You have no reply for his earnest question, unsure if you even knew how to get Cerena back.

“I… don’t know, Satoru. I’m sorry. I cannot answer your question. I suppose we just have to… wait for her to reappear back and claim her body.”

The next question he sprung up on you took you completely off guard. 

“So, does it mean once she returns, you will be gone?” 

You had never given much thought to your fate after leaving Cerena’s body, but you supposed it was plausible that the both of you will return to your rightful vessels once this whole fiasco was over. 

“I believe so. Though, I cannot be sure. I still don’t have any answers.”

At a mindless movement of your arm, you winced at the sudden stench you caught wafting from your body and you balked, wondering if he was being polite by not bringing up the fact that the unclean and unpleasant odor was emanating from you.

“I need a bath.” 

Despite how he wanted to continue the conversation, Satoru knew your comfort had to come first if you were to be in the right mind to give him the answers he needed. 

He stepped out of the door, barking an order for the maids to bring a tub and a fresh wash of clothes for you to change into. 

At his behest, two young brunettes rushed in, carrying a solid wooden receptacle lined with iron accents which they tipped hot water inside, letting the steam mingle with the dry humidity of the room. 

Glancing at him with a furrowed brow, you asked, “Aren’t you going to give me some privacy?” 

Again, Satoru did not relent on his compulsion to observe your every movement, his rapt gaze catching onto your discomfort. “And risk you leaving again? I told you, Ce—Y/N… I will not let you go again that easily.”

The maids continued to work, pretending to be deaf and blind to the building tension between the two of you. 

Heatedly, you retorted, “Satoru, I am injured and sick. Why would I run away from you when I am not feeling well? You are making no sense.”

He retaliated with a glare. “Sick or not, you have proven to be a thorn in my side, woman, and I will not let up my guard only for you to slip away again.”

Sensing there was no room for him to budge, you sighed, reluctantly agreeing to have in the room while you bathed.

“Can’t you at least turn around, Satoru?” 

A huff. He spun around, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixated on a water stain upon the otherwise pristine white walls, fighting hard to ignore the stuttering beat of his heart, how he could hear every rustle of your infirmary gown melting from your body, the breath of relief you exhaled once you stepped into the warmed water.

The maids made quick work of the grim on your body, scrubbing you hard enough to make your skin shine and squeaky. They yanked through the dirt in your pink locks, brushing out the stiff clumps with a horsehair brush, tipping fresh water from more buckets by the tub atop your head and body to wash off the soap. The water was pleasantly fragranced with the scent of lavender and roses, the oils clinging to your skin and perfuming your hair. 

By happenstance, a moan slipped past your clenched teeth when they started to scrub your back, and Satoru tensed, the sudden sound sending an unmistakable thrill through his body.

The stoic prince trained his focus on the water stain, ignoring the flush of heat dusting his cheeks.

“Are you feeling better?”

His sudden question took you by surprise, and you noticed the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension underneath the seemingly innocent question. 

“I am,” you quipped, allowing the maids to grab your arms and gently hoist you out of the tub and to your feet. They wiped you down with a pair of fluffy, cotton towels, and dressed you in a new linen gown, careful to avoid the lesions on your hands. 

Once Satoru was sure you were done with your bath, he hesitantly turned back around, his cerulean gaze raking up and down your refreshed coloration, how there was more warmth on your cheeks.

A soft grunt emitted from the back of his throat, and he stiffly approached you, bearing down on you, the fire in his eyes drawing you up short.

“Now, we have to speak about the matter of your unwelcome visit to this world.”

You steeled yourself for this discussion, your mind going a mile a minute, wondering what else this detestable man might want to bring up.

Satoru, too, seemed to brace for the topic at hand, taking in a deep breath. 

“I want you to know that such a situation is not ideal, but I am willing to overlook this oversight of your presence here in court,” his curt words made you bristle, as if you had begged to appear overnight in another woman’s body—hounded and despised by the man you were engaged to. 

Your lips twisted in a glare, and you stared him down, unwilling to bend from his contempt. 

“You speak as if I wanted to be here in the first place—I do not have a wish to remain here, Satoru. I want to go back home, too.”

At the mention of home, you cursed the tremble in your voice, schooling your features to be neutral and unimpeachable. Satoru, however, was determined to paint you in a disdainful light, scorning your presence before him despite how none of it was your fault.

“Perhaps I may believe you on this, but for this moment, I am not swayed.”

You swore steam could pour out from your ears and your throat would bleed dry before this bastard of a prince would believe you. 

Echoing his maliciousness, you scoff. 

“Satoru, no offense, but you overestimate your worth to me. I am not enjoying a single moment here and if I had the chance to choose, I would never have met you in the first place.”

Dripping with poison, each word was an affront to his hubris, a dart to his superior ego and excess pride.

However, you did not anticipate those cold blue eyes to waver at your venomous declarations, a brief flash of hurt appearing across his face.

Before you could look further, he closed himself from you once more, a chilling look clouding over his entire visage.

“That is fair and reciprocated. I do not wish to burden you for a second longer with my presence, either.”

He turned his face away, and you wondered what had gotten into him; why he was being so defensive and argumentative when you were trying to help him understand where you were coming from. 

Shaking your head, you tried to dismiss those troublesome thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand.

“So, you believe me?”

Tinged with hope, you dared believe this new reveal would make him considerably friendlier towards you, or at least civil enough to not try and harm you when there was no good reason to. 

For a second, he didn’t say a word, the room filled the sounds of your soft breaths, the crackling from the fireplace.

“Hmm. A bit. But, as it stands, I have a duty towards my country and so do you.” His tone brokered no room for an argument. “While we wait for a solution to present itself, I need you to perform as Cerena—that means learn how to be an actual princess, to speak like us and act like us so as not to rouse any suspicion.”

A fair deal. 

You nodded, and fixed him with your steady gaze. Unbeknownst to you, the traitorous strap of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder, baring the rise of your collarbone to his eye.  

“Anything else?” 

Satoru’s disgruntled expression caught you by surprise, especially when he leaned in closer to grasp the edge of your linen strap and drag it back up your shoulder.

“Nothing. Have a good rest, princess—I mean, Y/N.” 

Turning away, this infuriating prince left you to your own devices and ruminating thoughts, your mind landing on the brief memory of his fingertips brushing your shoulder, leaving remnants of heat tingling across your skin. 

You tried hard to bury the sensation, clambering back into the infirmary bed and lying down, your gaze circling the ceiling. As you slipped off into an uneasy sleep, you were once again struck by the callousness of his words, how he had practically warned you to play pretend as Cerena while you tried to find a solution and go home. 

Act and speak and think like them. So as not to arouse suspicion.

You believed you could do that—you had to believe you could do that because your entire survival hinged upon putting on the best pretense this court has ever seen. 

Down the hallway, Satoru took a second to himself, leaning against the wall as he tried to keep his breathing controlled and even.

The memory of the firelight playing with your skin and hair, the feel of your smooth skin under the pads of his fingertips burned through his mind, scalding him from the longing he had tried hard to bury since the day Cerena’s betrayal reached his ears. 

His cheeks were still warm from the unexpected physical contact and he balled his hands into fists, struggling to keep them from shaking.

Once he could breathe without feeling like he would combust in flames, Satoru reluctantly walked away from the infirmary and you—focused on putting on foot in front of the other.

Attempting with every fiber of his being to smother the rising need to return back to your side and be with you again.

MTT fun fact: citrus fragrance is hard to obtain in northern haleway and is thus the royal family's signature scent

dawn says: thank you for being patient with this update! here's to more gojoyn shenanigans

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost, claim as your own or feed my content into AI.

[billloveshushu]

Chapter 01 - 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭

✦━ Platonic Batfamily x BabyOC.

✧Synopsis━ a baby was rescued by Batman on one of his missions, feeling responsible, Bruce decided to adopt her. But the question is that the baby knew she was in the comic book world, not knowing how to react or why, will she survive in this traumatized family?

✦ ("") thoughts (━) dialogue ✦

English is not my original language, the translation was done by Google Translate. So sorry for any spelling mistakes.

In a luxurious mansion, there was a room that was different from the other rooms, which were clean and organized but all lonely and without a hint of life, showing that someone had lived there for a long time, but in this room the floor was padded by a soft carpet. and there were toys and stuffed bears scattered everywhere, the drawers on the walls were full of diapers, powder and baby wipes, and in the corner of the room there was a baby bed.

Inside it was a small baby with a very peculiar appearance, it had black skin the color of chocolate, with vibrant red hair that highlighted its light brown eyes, the baby looked around confused and in disbelief at what was happening.

" How did I end up here? "

Just two days ago she was in the hospital, remembering few things, until a nurse came and took her to an elegant man in a suit who was accompanied by an old man. When she heard the nurse say the man's name, something clicked in her head: " Bruce Wayne!? "

Suddenly, a whole bar of comic books appeared in her mind, comic books that she loved reading, but her favorite stories were about a hero called Batman, with his family that was called the Batfamily. It was then that she realized that she was in the world of comics and that the man talking to the nurse was the fearsome Batman.

She spent the entire trip to Wayne Manor in a daze and hadn't even noticed Bruce's certain ignorance, anyway on the first day she just stared at Alfred and Bruce wondering if it was really real. Only the next day when she was woken up by Alfred did she start to wonder why she was in the mansion, was she adopted? But knowing Bruce he would never adopt a baby with the life he leads as Batman.

So there is only one option left, something tragic happened that she doesn't remember, and maybe that's why she was admitted to the hospital. Well, her theory was right, and she found out thanks to the discussion that was happening on the nursery side. The baby looked at the butler who, despite being quite old, was standing firm and with good posture, arguing with Bruce who had bandages on his face, he was wearing a white shirt that showed that his face wasn't the only injured part.

Alfred was trying to get Bruce to stay and recover from his wounds, but Bruce didn't care about his injuries and said he would go back to the streets tonight and capture those miserable groups. That's when she discovered his story.

Apparently, she was rescued by Batman in one of his most complicated missions, where he was investigating, together with Barbara Gordon (Oracle), the largest human trafficking network in Gotham City. During the mission they even had help from several villains who also didn't like this situation, they found the drug dealers' hideout and planned to end it all that night but it didn't go as planned, the drug dealers had an ace up their sleeve.

They planted bombs in one of their trafficking sites, which was disguised as an orphanage, the problem was that there were children living there, they did this on purpose in case Batman found them, they knew he would drop everything to save them.

In the end they managed to escape and Batman didn't arrive in time, he could only see the big explosion happening in front of him, he managed to save a few children who still had several burns and many were killed by the explosion, the Wayne Industry Corporation financed all the support financial support for the victims including the funerals, and the victims' funeral took place on a cloudy and rainy day, where all of Gotham mourned for the innocent lives.

She could see the anger on his face, perhaps disappointment with himself too, Alfred was the same way, outraged at the poor children's lives that were used but he remained calm knowing that he had to treat his master/son's injuries.

━ Mr. Bruce, I understand your anger but you cannot leave right after your recovery.

━But Alfred! I can't stay here knowing that they will be out there on the loose!

Alfred frowns but stops, knowing he won't be able to convince the bat man any further. Suddenly a noise arose, the two men looked at the baby who was embarrassed and placed her hands on her belly, relieving the tension in the room. Alfred went to make the milk and left the room, Bruce put his hand on his forehead irritably and sat down on a sofa in the room.

She looked at the melancholy man "even though it's the first time I've seen him in person, doesn't he look older?"

His face had bandaged wounds, droopy eyes that screamed for sleep, and an unfinished drool, he was clearly dejected by recent events, showing that carrying the mantle of Batman was not easy.

This is not surprising, for the sake of Batman he sacrificed many things including his physical and mental health, but the thing he hated most was hurting or worrying Alfred, he knew that the butler wanted him to rest for his own good, and yet he acted like a child. While he was mourning, Bruce felt the baby looking at him, but he didn't dare look back, since that day he avoided looking at her face, not even remembering what it was like.

Bruce remembers that bloody night , it was too late to ask for help from the others who were still far from Gotham, He could only watch the explosion happen and rescue as many people as possible until a child stopped him asking for help, saying that there was a room deeper in the orphanage and a baby was trapped there.

Bruce had never felt so much panic and adrenaline rushing through his body, he didn't know how he got past the burning fire until he entered the room that was half hidden and found a fallen nursery and saw the small body of a baby covered in blood .

Even for Batman this vision is too strong, he remembered how he carried the small, almost lifeless body, no, he was sure she was dead until the nurse took her and said there was a sign of life.

He doesn't know if this was an illusion at the time, even the doctors said it was a miracle for a baby just a few months old to survive in this state.

Given his critical condition, the baby took a month to recover, but he had several sequelae that needed to be treated over time. Bruce, seeing this situation, decided to adopt the baby to be responsible for him and finance all his treatments and medical expenses.

The last time he saw the baby up close was when Alfred held the baby in his arms taking her to the mansion, after that, Bruce avoided her and left her in Alfred's care, he never held her, and didn't even look at her face and avoided entering her room until now, it was as if he was...

As if he was afraid .

Alfred arrived with the bottle and picked up the baby gently and adjusted his posture to be more comfortable, and Bruce saw this from afar until the baby finished drinking the milk and the butler cleaned his little mouth, putting him back in the nursery because he realized he was sleepy.

In her last moments struggling with her eyelids nearly closing, she saw Bruce leaving the room silently and wondered " Why didn't he look at me? " before falling into the dream world.

It had been a week since the baby had last seen Bruce, she wondered, should she care?

Since arriving at this mansion, Bruce had avoided her like the plague, she wasn't stupid enough to not realize that, at first she was angry but soon the anger disappeared, she had no reason for it and she didn't even know him well.

She knew Batman from the comics but not Bruce Wayne, she always saw Batman being portrayed as the supreme hero, the vigilante who took justice into his own hands, not as a family man who has many children, the comics didn't go into much depth from the family side. And when it was mentioned it was clear that Bruce failed many times as a father.

She even wondered if it was another child destined to be a Robin, or a child he just pitied, it didn't matter, at least she had Alfred who during that week became much more attached to Baby.

Alfred doesn't know how this little smiling ball won his heart so quickly, he always found himself worried about her, he noticed that he finished his work routine faster or stopped doing some things to just take care of the little one, he had never done that before.

At first, Alfred was worried, it had been so long since he had taken care of such a small baby that he even wondered about hiring a more specialized person.

But surprisingly it wasn't like that, she was a very calm and quiet baby and even smiling, he wondered if that was a problem until he saw her toothless smile in his arms as she hugged a stuffed cat.

To imagine that he was won over by just a crooked smile, perhaps his paternal instinct had returned.

After measuring the ideal temperature of the milk, Alfred saw the little baby in the living room sleeping on the sofa, she was resting her little cheeks which were crushed on the teddy bear bigger than her and several other stuffed animals around.

Alfred secretly took a picture of this cute scene and planned to make a photo album, the baby being woken up gently stretched her little arms towards the butler asking to be picked up, Alfred picked her up and watched her trying to open her little eyes while yawning.

He even rubbed her eyes, making her more awake.

As he looked at the baby who was drinking the milk and trying to grab the bottle with her fat little hands, he thought it would be nice if Bruce had the same thoughts, it wasn't just the baby who noticed the Billionaire's strange behavior, he realized at first glance that Bruce was avoiding her, he asked why and Bruce replied ━ When I look at her, I remember her body full of blood ...

Alfred was relieved that his actions were not malicious, but he was extremely sad when he noticed Bruce's fear, he didn't know if it could be called fear but it was similar to what happened with Jason, the fear of facing his greatest failure.

Even though the baby is fine now, she has suffered several after-effects. Alfred is always heartbroken when he sees the small, newly healed wounds and hopes that they will disappear as she grows, making that traumatic attack just a delusion.

Now he just wants Bruce to get over this and the baby to be okay.

After that, Alfred helped the baby burp and planned to take her to her room since this room was not very suitable for babies, until he felt a tug on his sleeve and saw the baby pointing to a painting in the room ━ Oh little one, these are your older brothers ━ Alfred said as he introduced each one.

Dick or Richard was smiling in the background and next to him was Jason who turned his head back hiding his face, on the other side was Tim and Damian, both of them were not smiling but Damian had a sullen face and arms crossed, in the armchair was sitting Duke who was smiling and Cassandra sitting on the arm of the armchair, she was also not smiling.

The baby looked around and tilted her head in confusion at Alfred who understood the message ━ No little ladyship, they are not here at the moment but they will be in the future.

The baby can only look at the picture again and wonder , " Will they like me? "

Night soon came, Alfred prepared the baby for bed by putting on new pajamas that imitated the figure of a baby sheep, it even had a tail, Alfred often bought new cute animal-themed clothes for the baby and took pictures of each one of them, I think he gained a new hobby.

After putting the talcum powder on the baby's neck, he was about to put her to sleep but suddenly stopped and looked at the bedroom door, the baby soon realized, Batman was back.

Alfred apologized and put her in the nursery, telling her to wait a little and left the room. She looked at the ceiling for a while and could hear some noises of Alfred helping Bruce and realized that the situation must be serious.

She even thought about going there, but she knew she couldn't, her body was still developing its locomotive abilities, and there was still the fact that she was recovering, so she thought it would just be a burden.

When her eyelids were almost closing, Alfred appeared again, but this time he carried her and took her to another room where Bruce could be seen lying on a bed covered in bandages and small wounds, the baby was surprised by the sight as Alfred took her closer.

You could see that Bruce was trying to sleep until he felt Alfred's presence and opened his eyes to see him until he noticed the small ball of fur in the butler's hands ━ huh?

Alfred, noticing the man's doubtful face, said━ Mr. Bruce, I'm afraid I won't be able to take care of the little lady while I prepare dinner, so please.

Alfred placed the little sheep on the bed along with Bruce who just watched the butler leave the room satisfied, leaving the two individuals looking confused at the door, Bruce knew that this was just an excuse from Alfred to get to know the child better but he couldn't help but swear a little.

Then he noticed the little girl crawling to his side and making small sounds, he felt her gaze on his face, Bruce knew that this was cowardly, he thought that after solving the case he would be fine, and would be able to face the child without any guilt, but this proved the opposite, he knows that this is ridiculous but every time he thinks about her he remembers the many times he failed as a father, remembering how negligent he was with his children.

Bruce wanted to move on and leave his mistakes in the past, but he couldn't, he couldn't help but think that because of him most of his children are not in the mansion.

He began to press his hand on his abdomen where the bandaged wound was, which opened with the pressure, starting to release a blood stain. The baby quickly placed her hand on him, trying to push him away, which ended up drawing his attention.

Bruce finally saw the baby and not that nightmare, he saw a small baby who had just recovered, with chubby red cheeks and her small, soft hand contrasting with his, which was large and full of scars, the baby's little face looked at him worriedly.

The baby saw Bruce's shocked look fill with guilt and her hands began to tremble, she didn't understand why this was happening, but she decided to be benevolent, she climbed onto his chest and hugged his neck rubbing her cheek against his as she tried to find a better position to sleep on his shoulder.

Still perplexed, Bruce raised his hands and held her, realizing how fragile she was, for the first time a newborn baby was in his care, a being so defenseless that it couldn't even run away from its predators, that should be protected and cared for, a small child that he still ignored and avoided out of sheer ridiculous fear.

━ I'm sorry... ━ Bruce said with his cold and authoritative voice, the baby looked surprised and saw the melancholic eyes.

She just hugged him tighter, while he held her and patted her head awkwardly.

Bruce from then on promised that he would protect her with all his heart and soul, that he would not make mistakes this time, promising to give her a long and happy life.

After a while Alfred arrived in the room just seeing Bruce sleeping holding the baby also asleep on his chest, he just smiled seeing the scene and was relieved to know that Bruce wouldn't need the medicine to sleep tonight, he discreetly left the room with a plate of food in his hands along with the medicine and closed the door without making any noise.

Continued...

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.3 - Alpha & Omega

Yeji x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

Good news. None.   

Bad news. Where do you even start?   

The worst would be the fact that you can't feel your body. Your eyes seem to be the only functioning organ. To add insult to injury, your whole body is bare, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not grabbing your clothes before you get teleported back from that boxing ring. No use regretting it now. Even if you manage to move your limbs somehow, you are trapped in a bar restroom butt naked. Can this day get even worse?   

To be honest, you expect yourself to develop some kind of resistance to all those headaches and pain after passing out four times in a day. Seems like there's no improvement. You can just hope no one comes knocking at the door. That leads you to wonder, how long have you been gone? The first time you encounter Rei or what seems to be Rei, it takes almost an hour. But at least she obeys every command you give so it isn't much of a struggle. The second time, however, you have to wrestle with Eunbi first before you finally tame her, as the quest had said. You are certain more than an hour has flown by.    

Your phone chimes with a notification nearby. No doubt from the 'Ero' app. You desperately want to check it but there's not much you can do when your body feels like a lump of clay. So, you continue doing what you initially were, staring at the ceiling. Funny enough, seeing the ceiling has become a kind of relief after losing and gaining consciousness multiple times. At least, it reminds you that you are alive.  

Once again, you can't help but think of all the unanswered questions that have piled up even more after your encounter with Eunbi. The voice that consistently keeps praising you after you complete a quest, the idols that you have met who are not actually idols. You are pretty sure about that now. Are they replicas? clones? Then what does that make you? A test subject for some crazy experiment that involve fucking idol clones? As usual, no answer.  

If you look at it from the bright side, ignoring all the pain and confusion, you have used two idols for your release already. Getting to fuck one idol should be considered universally lucky. But two? You had to save a nation in your past life for that. Whether they are real or not, they still look exactly the same so it doesn't really make a difference. However, the downside shouldn't be ignored either. If you try to complete one more quest, fuck one more idol, you might not wake up again. With each jump, your body seems to weaken. It starts with headaches and soreness and now you are paralyzed. Not really a price worth paying. You are not perverted enough to trade your life for sex.  

Actually, you might have passed that point already. If you inevitably have to die, you want to go out with honor. Not as a naked corpse in a restroom. "Oh, how did he die?" "I don't know, probably from jerking off naked in the toilet" Yep. Not a good idea.   

A few minutes pass and you start considering screaming for help. You have to sacrifice every bit of dignity you have but at least you won't die. Thankfully, it doesn't happen. Blood starts to flow again in your fingers and soon, you are well aware of the cold floor on your skin.   

You sit up groggily, propping yourself against the toilet for support. Taking a few deep breaths, you picked up the phone. The screen is full of cracks, it covers almost every part of the notification on your lock screen but without a doubt, it's from the 'Ero' app.   

"Congrats on completing your second quest. Please wait patiently for the next one"  

Typical. Just congratulations. Not to mention you nearly got killed. Thank you very much.   

Then your eyes move to the upper corner of the screen displaying the time, 8:48. You can't be sure, but you are certain no more than a few minutes have passed since you passed out. How is it possible? Even without the time you spent laying paralyzed, it takes at least an hour to do everything you have done with Eunbi. No wonder no one comes looking for you.   

Maybe time flows differently in whatever places you get teleported to. Another mystery. Your head starts throbbing, a sign of an oncoming headache. God, can that app let you off for once? There's a silver lining though. Your clothes lie in a pile in a corner. You have to shut your mouth before you start screaming with joy.   

After changing hastily and washing your face, you exit the room. Russell and the rest of the crew are still at their table, their voices getting louder by the second. The effects of all the drinks they had had are evident on their red puffy faces. They don't even seem to notice your absence except Russell, who raises his hand at the sight of you.  

"Man, you have been gone pretty long, you ok?" he asks.  

"Yeah, I'm fine.."  

"You sure? You look like you just woke up"  

He's not wrong but no use making him worried.  

"Trust me. I'm ok. Just a bit tired, i guess"  

"Have you been working late again?"  

Gosh, this guy cares about you more than your mom. You take this as your chance to get out of here.  

"Yeah, got some articles to finish. I have been procrastinating on this one I have to send tomorrow. Mind if I leave early? I need to sleep early"  

"Of course. Don't work too hard, huh? You still have to write a best-seller remember?"  

You simply smile and leave, grabbing your coat. The cold breeze offers you some comfort to the headache that's becoming unbearable. You just want to lay down on the spot and fall asleep. You walk back to your room, trying not to pass out on the way. The night is still young, and the sound of traffic and the chatter of people follows you everywhere. Ordinary people enjoying their lives unlike you, who have become a different person in just a day. You were a writer, not a good one but still an average Joe. Now, you fuck idols with the help of an app. Anyone who hear it will suggest you talk to a therapist, and you won't blame them.   

And what is it that makes the app choose you? You have no special abilities other than the fact that you can mimic animal sounds and that's not even a real talent. Perhaps luck has finally found its way to your ever unfortunate life. But can it be called luck with how you become a step closer to death with each quest you take on. 

You are so busy debating with yourself you are completely oblivious to your surroundings. If only you have turned your head to an alley across the street, you would have seen a dark figure with sparkling eyes that follow every one of your movements. A predator lurking in the shadows. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎  

A week has passed. The 'Ero' app is silent as ever. 

You find yourself expecting a message for another quest despite promising yourself you won't let your perversion lead you to your demise. You should really start thinking with your brain rather than your dick. 

Three days after your last quest, you even try to enter the 'Ero' app out of curiosity. The app closes automatically. After a few more tries, you give up out of disappointment and shame. Shame for trying to enter the app even after knowing the risks. Shame for being a hopeless pervert. 

You should just stick to jerking off to fancams and pictures, at least that way you won't be playing with your life or getting beat up by an idol. That's what you have been doing since you got smitten by those kpop girls but after the quests you have done, it becomes tedious. You will still pump a load or two after seeing Karina's tits or Sohee's ass but it's nothing compared to Rei's blowjob or Eunbi's titjob. You have become addicted.  

Ironically, you even find yourself dreaming of the darkness, the mahogany room and the boxing ring. This is what Eve might have felt when she's told not to eat the forbidden fruit, you think. Because forbidden things are the most tempting.  

You still write but no longer out of pleasure, just to survive. And that reminds you, you should stop eating take outs and cook something yourself for once. Your room was a mess but now it's a whole trash pile. Plastic boxes and cups from all the take outs you order lie in a mountain at the sink. The trash car comes, you are just too lazy to throw it out. And if you don't do something about that stack of papers on the table, it's gonna touch the ceiling soon.  

In short, you have become a mess. Every time your phone chimes, you would check it in a heartbeat, expecting a text from the 'Ero' app. But of course, it isn't. The app has gone ghost quiet. You are desperately seeking to complete just one more quest. One more idol to fuck. 

You rarely go outside and ignore all the messages your friends and colleagues sent you. There's only one message you want to receive which never comes. 

After a week of living like a vampire, a realization hits you. One so obvious you feel like an idiot not thinking about it sooner. All the problems you are facing are rooted from one single thing, the 'Ero' app. If you delete it, your suffering might end. You can even pretend everything that happened was a dream. 

So, you get out of the bed which you have been laying on for hours and grab your phone on the table. The sudden burst of light in the dark room as the screen opens leaves you seeing black spots. It is nighttime but you haven't opened your curtains in a while, so it doesn't really make a difference.  

You swipe till you land on the 'Ero' app. That little black heart icon. You press on it and the uninstall option pops off. 'Finally' you think. 'It's gonna be over. No more crazy stuffs' though a small voice somewhere in your mind keep insisting. 'But what of the pleasure that rivals no other? What of the idols you will meet?' 'Fuck this' you answer. It's true you are a pervert, but you are not hopeless. You won't die so that you can fuck some clone of an idol.  

Determined, you raise your thumb and nearly press on the uninstall button until-  

Your phone chimes. A notification on the top of the screen.  

"New quest ready, ready for your next adventure chosen one?" 

God damn it. Just when you are determined, this app has to come and ruin it. All the walls you have put up about not being a hopeless pervert crumbles in milliseconds. You want this after all. You don't want the app gone. You are just mas that it won't give you a quest. Now what you have been begging for a week is right in front of your eyes. You have to make a choice. Yes or No? 

This quest can be your last. A punishment for letting your dick makes your decisions. You can ignore it. Delete the app and go on with your life as normal. But will your life ever be normal after deleting the app? Who can say you won't be wondering what the third quest would be and which idol you would meet? And worst of all, you will become ordinary again without the app. No more magic portals to creepy rooms.  

You don't want to be ordinary. You have tried your best to become something others aren't all your life. Now, the chance has been presented to you. Your own personal paradise. All yours. No one else's.  

So, you tap on the message, opening the app to the loading screen with the black heart. Even the sight of it gets excitement creeping up your legs already. Then you close your eyes immediately before they get torched by that blinding flash. After waiting for a minute just to be safe, you open your eyes again. A text box sits in the center of the screen, instructions to your next quest. Except that you can't read them. 

The words are fuzzy and blurred. Some even completely redacted by black lines. It is as though someone has made them unreadable on purpose. What the hell is going on? 

This can be another challenge, a harder quest. Even more difficult than trying to defeat an idol who nearly crashes you to pulp. A higher risk of death. A tinge of regret starts to overwhelm you but it's too late. 

The all-familiar darkness envelopes you once again. Then comes the icy cold spike that tears through your organs. Your vision fades and you crumple like paper. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎  

Your old friend accompanies your wake. Of course, it's the headache. Fortunately, it isn't as strong as before or maybe you have just been out of touch you forget the pain. Nevertheless, you are alive.  

You don't get to celebrate much though because the sight that greets you when you open your eyes sucks the joy right out of your heart. It isn't the ceiling this time. At least seeing the ceiling would have been a comfort. What you see is anything but comforting. 

To start, you are not in a room like you were the last two quests. You are surrounded by marble columns that support the circular dome on top. A temple like those in Greek times. A huge part of the building has crumbled, giving you a clear view of what lies ahead.  

Your heart leaps. Before your eyes lies what you can only describe as an apocalyptic city. Actually, an apocalyptic Greek city. Smoke billows from several temples writhed in flames. Most of the bronze and marble statues lining the sandy paths are missing a body part, some have been completely destroyed. A colosseum crumbles to dust right in front of your eyes though you have no idea what a Roman structure is doing in a Greek city. It would have been a beautiful place if it's not for the fact that it looks like a war zone.  

The temple you are in is not holding out really well either. From time to time, debris would fall from the ceiling, and you can only hope the roof won't collapse on top of you. You try to move and that's when you realize you have been tied up. Looking down, you find yourself bound to a chair with metal chains, your hands at the back. Your legs are no exception either. They have been tied up as well. 

This quest is starting to look hopeless already. It would be so easy for someone to gut you right now and you can do nothing but watch. You could call out for help except that there isn't a living being in sight. Even if someone does come, you can't be certain if they are friends or foes. 

You remember the surge of strength that has come to you when you were at the brink of death. It would be really really helpful if you could get that kind of help right now. Though you doubt that kind of chance will be given twice. 

"Oh, he can't help you this time" As if reading your thoughts, a voice rings out behind a column.  

The owner of the voice emerges. A figure with fiery red hair wearing a top of matching color. The black jeans accentuate her slender legs. Her ruby red eyes fixed on you with a steely gaze. Yeji, the leader of Itzy. 

"Ehm....Yeji?" Obviously, the idol before you is not the real Yeji. But you ask anyway. 

"In a sense" She replies. "But that won't matter anymore after I kill you" 

Just wonderful. Another idol who wants you dead.  

"I gotta praise you though. You are pretty strong compared to those before you" 

"Others? What are you talking about?" 

"Oh, do you think you are the only one chosen by the app, chosen one?" She strains the last part just to sound sarcastic.  

"Look, I don't even understand what's happening much less answer your questions. I don't even know why you want to kill me" 

"Oh, you very much do" She snaps back. "Rei? Eunbi? The things you did to them. You are lucky I let you live this long" 

"I was just doing what the app told me to" 

"Oh, yes. That stupid 'Ero' app. You love it so much you walked right into my trap" 

The realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. The quest that arrives right when the app is nearly deleted. The distorted letters.  

"It's you" You say. "You are the one who set up this quest" 

"Correct" Her voice is dripping with glee. "Aren't I clever?" 

"Ok, Yeji....or whatever. If you let me go, I promise I won't-" 

"Oh, shut up. You will follow where your dick leads you" 

She's not wrong. Still, it sort of hurts. 

"There's nothing you will get out of killing me" You try the other route. 

"Oh, there's a lot I can get out of killing you" Yeji muses, walking closer. "And I will start by destroying the thing that have been distracting my kind" 

You don't know what she means but you don't need to wonder for long because with the flick of her wrist, your shorts come off. Look, you know some guys are really into the bondage stuff when the girl ties you up and all, but it isn't much fun when your partner is trying to kill you. But there's a bigger threat than getting killed right now. 

"Wait, you don't mean my-"  

"Dick? Yes. If it's gone, you can no longer bother us, right?" 

"You can't do that! It's illegal" 

"Look around you. You are no longer on earth" 

You are making empty threats, and you know it too well. But you don't want your bloodline to end with you. 

"Look, maybe we can make a deal or something" 

"Too late" Yeji unfolds her palm and a gladius, a roman sword, manifests out of thin air. She's definitely not human. 

You tilt your head in panic as the point hovers over your throat.  

"I should have just killed you but where's the fun in that?" 

Your breath hitches. You don't trust yourself to talk without blabbering out more pleas that will make Yeji even madder. And even worse, your dick is rock hard because of the adrenaline.  

"Bye bye" She raises the sword and brings it down on your springing mamba. You close your eyes. bracing yourself for the pain. But it never comes because a voice cuts through the tense atmosphere.  

"Wait!" Another female voice and running footsteps. You open your eyes. 

Behind Yeji is Kazuha, the japanese member of Le Sserafim. Her pink satin dresses look out of place among the ruins of the city, like a runaway bride.  

"Kazuha?" Yeji lowers the gladius. "Oh, let me guess. He sent you" 

"You need to stop this. Killing him won't stop our problems" 

"You don't know that for sure. One less candidate means less chance for the mark to emerge" 

"What mark?" instantly, you regret not keeping your mouth shut. They want to cut your dick off for christ's sake. 

"The mark of-" Kazuha starts to answer but Yeji cuts her off.  

"Shut up" Yeji snaps. "He's going to die anyway" 

"Stop this, Yeji. He's going to be so mad if he finds out" 

"So what? He has been a dick all those times. You still take orders from him?" 

"He can be crazy sometimes but it's our job to serve him" 

"Bullshit. You are just too scared to disobey" 

"Yeji, please" 

Kazuha's words have no effect. Yeji closes in on you again and raises her gladius. This time there's no escape for you.  

Then the strangest thing happens. A burst of energy erupts from your core, spreading to every cell in your body. All the fatigue and panic are gone. It's like being dipped in water when you are high. You feel pumped, ready to do anything. More specifically, ready to fuck anyone because the lust inside you has never been so strong. 

"It can't be..." Yeji backs away, dropping her gladius. Her face that of pure horror. 

You look down and nearly scream yourself. On your pelvis is an upside-down pentagram, like those used in cult rituals and its glowing red hot though you don't feel any pain. Further down is an even stranger sight. Your dick is literally glowing. Upon taking a closer look, you realize it’s surrounded by a golden aura like it's something powerful. All the chains binding you shatter to pieces, and you rise.  

"The mark" Kazuha mutters dreamily. "It's real" 

"No!" Yeji screams, falling down. "It's a myth. How could it be-" She picks up her gladius and instantly charges. You back away but there isn't a need. Because Yeji got thrown away as though hit by an invisible force. 

She crouches on the floor, panting. "This is madness" 

Kazuha just stands there frozen. Hey eyes fixed on your glowing cock. 

But you only have a single objective in your mind. Ruin Yeji. Use her. Punish her. She is nothing but an easy prey.  

"Stay away" Yeji shouts. In the end, the hunter has become the hunted. 

You close in, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up. Then you slam her onto a column. You don't intend to hurt her though. She's in for something much worse.  

"I will kill you" She mutters but the panic is clear as day in the way her words stutter. Grabbing her waist, you trace your lips across the pulsing veins of her neck all the way to her jaw. Then a bite on her earlobe. Yeji squirms. 

"Still want to kill me?" The question is left unanswered as Yeji's lips part to give way to your tongue, which invades into her oral opening. Yeji's pupils widen when her own tongue got tickled by the foreign one. Her screams come out muffled. Yeji tries to pull away but the grip of your lips on hers is stronger than ever.  

All the while, your hands make their way down to her waist belt, enjoying the feeling of her firm skin. Sliding down further, you slip into her jeans, squeezing that tone ass of hers.  

The writhing of her body is cut short when you slid a finger into her tight asshole, which makes her limp like a rug doll. At first, it's hard to move much with how hard her hole grips you but after a few pumps, it starts to oblige, allowing swifter movements.  

As you finger her asshole, you don't stop the mouth action either. You can no longer tell whose mouth is moister as your saliva got mixed from how long you have been tasting her. All that matters is you keep her mouth shut. The strands of red hair fall over, obscuring your vision partly but you press on, taking in her taste each and every second. Your dick is pressed flat against her tummy in this position and it's getting you even more riled up. You can take care of it later. 

With your unoccupied hand, you squeeze her soft cheeks, which fold like rubber under your touch. The pace of your finger that keeps fucking her asshole remains unwavering. In fact, its pounding her now the same way your cock would. At the same time, you are tongue fucking her. Both of her holes are stuffed and there's nothing she can do about it except produces more degraded sounds. 

Yeji's legs start to shake, inevitably nearing her peak whether she likes it or not. Saliva drips from the corner of her lips and a strand of the remnants connect your lips as your tongue exits her mouth. You are not letting her off. You just want to hear her moan. 

"I...will kill you..." Her voice comes out husky, so it sounds more like an empty promise than a threat. 

"Just shut up and cum bitch" Your thrusts become forceful. Perhaps you are hurting her but Yeji's moaning too much to care. Unable to resist the sight of her skin, you bite down on her neck, pitching up her voice.  

Finally, Yeji breaks. In a frenzy of pain and bliss, she lets out a carnal groan which rings out through the temple. Juice gush out from her pussy when your finger thrust in one last time. Each time her body convulses, she lets out a moan, each one louder than the last. She is still trembling nonstop even after you pull out, her jeans stained with her own bodily fluid. 

"Did you just come from getting your asshole fingered?" You ask. Yeji can only pant as she props against a column not to tremble from her legs that are on the verge of giving out. 

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Kazuha, her arms folded, watching the whole thing without a single word. She seems to be on your side for now. 

"Tired already?" You ask Yeji. "It's just starting" 

The mark on your pelvis glows brighter, the red rays casting a translucent glow on Yeji. With an iron grip on her shoulders, you turn her around, allowing you the view of her round ass in tight jeans. The stain on her crotch area makes the scene even more lewd. 

"Admit it, Yeji. All this time you have been a slut. My cock is all it takes to wipe that bitchy look off your face" Your cock presses against her clothed ass. 

"I swear I will kill-" 

You pull down her jeans just enough to expose her round butt, stealing the air right out of her lungs. Your palm connects with her supple flesh in a harsh spank, leaving a handprint in red. You deliver a strike for each word that leaves her mouth. It goes like this. 

"I-" 

Spank 

"will-" 

Spank 

"kill-" 

Spank 

"you-" 

The white canvas of her skin is now streaked with scarlet stripes. And you intend to keep it that way because the way her ass jiggle with each spank is too hypnotic to get tired of. The cherry on the top is how she keeps protesting even through the stinging pain. But you are gonna change it real soon. 

With one last strike, you pull back, admiring your handiwork on her ass, which is now the same fiery shade as her hair and tops. Yeji mutters another curse through shallow breath. This bitch is still as cocky as ever. 

Pulling her hair to tilt her head, you whisper into her ear. "Still resisitng, hmm? Should we move on to your next punishment?" Yeji's eyes blaze with fury. "Bastard"  

"So, we are doing it the rough way" You hold her throat in a tight grip with your other hand, restricting any more words from coming out of her vocal cords.  

You rest your rock hard cock between her cheeks, the glow it radiates merging with her reddened buttocks. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out now. And then I wanna know if you still want me dead"  

Yeji can do nothing as you enter her moist slit with one forceful thrust that ripples her cheeks. You don't know if she's a virgin or not but the way her walls hug you tight is giving you ideas. Nevertheless, you push on, breaking through the barriers of her fold with each thrust. It doesn't take much time for you to pound her freely with how wet she already is from earlier. 

Soon, you are hammering her cunt without a care in the world, solely focused on using her as your vessel for pleasure. You will take anything her body can offer and that will be her punishment, to become nothing but your cumdump. Resentment and triumph take over your movements and each thrust leaves her even more breathless despite being choked. 

You loosen your grip on her neck just enough for her to make audible sounds. "Still hate me?" You ask as you pull back all the way and thrust into her slit with all your force. She tenses, her back arched. She answers your question with animalistic sounds only a whore would make. 

"Hmm, you still got a lot to learn" You slip your hands under her top, reaching for her mounds. Yeji's tits aren't qualified to be called huge, but they are still big enough to fill your palm as you knead them. When you twirl her rosy nipples between your index and thumb, she mewls like an animal in heat which is only natural with the way she's getting bred. 

You slow down your thrusts, moving in and out slowly to enjoy the full feeling of her slick velvety walls that trace every inch you fill her up with. Somewhere far away, another building collapsed with a sickening crunching sound. A wave of hot air grazes your skin. But they can do nothing to disturb you from claiming Yeji's cunt thoroughly.  

Her walls start to contrast around you, the sign of an oncoming climax. You thrust with inhuman speed, empowered by the mark, as Yeji had called it. Jolts of energy course through your veins at every moment and you are surprised to find that you are not even sweating, much less tired. You can breed Yeji all day if she isn't already worn out and used up. 

Yeji's eyes roll up, her tongue hanging out in the perfect replication of the ahaego faces you see so often in certain animes. Another flood of her nectar pours out, coating your shaft. You keep fucking through her orgasm, chasing your own high. Yeji's body twists and bends but you keep her in position by wrapping your arms around her waist.  

The friction over her slick walls becomes unbearable and soon you are pumping jets after jets of your fertile seeds into her womb, all the way to the hilt. If Yeji sounds animalistic before, now she's no different from an animal. Guttural sounds betray her lips as she gets filled up to the depths she never knows existed before. When your orgasm subsides, she becomes motionless, her hoarse breaths the only sign of life. 

You pull out and cum drips out of her hole which is clenching onto air as if it needs something stuffed inside. Her punishment is a success. Yeji's got destroyed by the very thing that she wanted to destroy. As you stand there, grinning with victory, the adrenaline starts to drain out of your body. Your legs become sore, and the fucking headache is starting again. The mark on your pelvis dims and fades along with the glow of your spent rod.  

"We need to leave" You are so caught up in the joy of dominating Yeji, you forget Kazuha exists. She's still at her old spot, watching you with interest and a slither of worry. You quickly pull up your shorts though there's no point being shy now. She has seen everything. 

"Leave where?" You ask. "My quest is completed right? I will just pass out and go back" 

"It's not happening this time. He wants to meet you" 

"He?" 

"Look, we don't have much time. He will explain everything to you. I promise" 

"But-" 

The temple rumbles. More debris and dust fall from above.  

"Alright. Good idea" You and Kazuha make it outside just in time before the whole temple collapses. The sound of explosions and crumbling buildings ring out all around you. The air burns your lungs with each breath. 

"Ok, hold my hand" Kazuha says and you oblige. There's no point arguing when you are in the middle of an apocalypse. As Kazuha closes her eyes, a gleaming orb surrounds both of you and you spiral down into a tunnel of light. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(Have been procrastinating on this. Anyway, enjoy~)

[byunpum]

Mama's Boy | Part 4

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: Kinda sad, cozy moments, conflict, family problems

Note: This part may be a bit long, but I hope you still enjoy it. I think only one part is left, but we'll see. Do you like the reading to be this long or shorter?. btwI recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

7 years ago… You were quite calm decorating and cleaning your home, neytiri was out for a walk with kiri and baby tuk. While jake had gone out to practice with lo'ak and neteyam. Leaving you alone, and peaceful. But all that quiet was interrupted, when you heard a lo'ak crying. He came rushing in, straight towards you. He was wiping away the tears that were falling on his cheeks. "MAMA" lo'ak whimpers, coming towards you. Throwing himself into your arms, not caring what you were doing. The boy wrapped his arms around your neck, burying his face in your neck. Lo'ak was 7 years old, and already about your height. But that didn't stop his mother from comforting him, and right now he needed it. "Honey…what's wrong? You're hurt" you push him away a little, taking a quick look. You see that he doesn't have any injuries, so what was wrong with him. You hug him again, caress his back. And you cuddle him from side to side. Trying to calm the child down. After a couple of minutes, you feel lo'ak move away a little. You wipe his face a little. "Are you more calm?" you smile at him a little trying to comfort him.

"Yes…it's just that…" lo'ak tries to speak, but stops when he feels his tears coming again. "Calm down love…what's wrong" you speak, you were worrying about whatever had happened, it was really mortifying him. "I was with daddy…practicing my shots with my bow. It was my turn and " lo'ak takes a deep breath. You already knew what the boy was going to say, you gently caress his cheek. "I didn't get it right…and I would try again many times. But dad told me that neteyam was better at archery than me. And that's not true!!!" Lo'ak begins to cry. "Love…daddy only said that for your own good, to make you better" you know it's not right what jake said. You hated it when jake compared lo'ak to neteyam. "No…he said neteyam was much better than me in everything…that I should be like him. And I don't want to be like neteyam, neteyam is ugly" lo'ak yells a little.

"Hey, first neteyam is not to blame for anything…and second, I will talk to your father. But love…don't make a big deal out of those comments. Your father sometimes doesn't think about what he's going to say, okay?" you try to reassure the boy. "Why don't you go and find spider, and you two can play. Yeah?" you say, watching as the boy perks up.

That same night, you and Jake have a big argument. Even neytiri had to step in. She was never on either side. It was so bad, that you even took lo'ak and left the house to sleep with mo'at. Behind you were kiri and neteyam. "You can't take the children with you," shouts Jake in anger. "Of course I can, I'm not going to leave them here with an immature person" you shout back, neytiri was trying to rationalize with you. But she ends up following you, giving Jake a disapproving look.

Present day…

"mom…can you help me with this?" asks neteyam, approaching you. He was holding a pretty feather ornament. "Sure come here sweetie" you speak, inviting him to sit down in front of you. You get up from the floor, to now work on his hair. The whole family had gotten up early to finish packing, almost everything was ready. But there were more things to pack, now that they had spent time in the metkayina clan. As you worked on neteyam's hair, you noticed how the scar from his wound had healed, but it was still there. "Honey…I'm glad to see you are healing" you speak, listening as neteyam laughs but then goes silent. "mom for a moment i thought i was going to die and never see you again" neteyam says. Lo'ak was sitting on your left side, he heard what his brother said. He quickly tapped him on the shoulder. "Bro…don't say that" lo'ak didn't like to talk about it. You on the other hand felt sorry, you almost lost one of your babies and you weren't there. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and give him a hug. The tightest hug you can. "I would have found a way to see you, you know that right?" you speak, watching as the boy turns to look at you. "I know mom…that's why I stopped worrying" neteyam laughs a little. Settling down so you can continue to work on his hair.

Meanwhile tonowari was on his way to the sully's marui, that same morning he woke up early and discussed his decision with ronal, the woman strongly disagreed. She did not like the idea of having a human in her clan. But she had to support her partner's decision. Tonowari quietly approached the entrance of the marui and stood in silence. To his surprise, he had the scene that lo'ak was trying to explain to him the night before. Neteyam was sitting, while you were combing his hair. Lo'ak sat next to you eating a piece of fruit, while laughing with kiri. The children looked so happy around you, they felt safe. He walked in a little, causing his presence to be noticed by jake. The whole family looked at him. "tonowari…is something wrong?" asks jake, finding the man's presence in their home strange.

"I came here because I want to talk…to the whole family" says tonowari, looking at you quickly. I had to admit, your presence was strange. "Come in," says Jake. Everyone turns their attention to the man who had now sat down. "Your son…lo'ak" tonowari points to lo'ak quickly. Jake looks at him with concern, what lo'ak must have done now. Swallowing hard, praying it's nothing bad. "The boy talked to me and I must say he was mature enough to stand up for his mother" tonowari says.

"I'm sorry if he said something he shouldn't I" jake started to apologize, but tonowari raises his hand to pause him. "He didn't do anything wrong…in fact he convinced me. I accept that human stays between us" tonowari says, lo'ak looks at you and smiles wide. Holding your hand tightly. "Are you serious?" jake couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Yes…I can imagine how bad it must be for the family not to have a member in it." Tonowari can see how everyone in the family gets excited. "But I have one condition," Tonowari says, staring at you. "Yes tell me…whatever" you speak, tonowari is surprised. For the first time he was talking to you face to face, he must admit you were very beautiful. And he could notice some features you shared with your son, lo'ak.

"I will give you a testing time. You will have to live as a metkayina, swim, fish, work as a metkayina. You will not be anyone's burden, and you will earn your own place here in the clan, that's for sure," says Tonowari. He was serious, you only had one chance. If you did something wrong, or made a mistake it was all over. "Don't worry, I will do my best. I assure you I won't cause any trouble," you say. "They're going to love her," says Kiri excitedly, getting up from the floor to hug you. This news makes the whole family happy. Tonowari says goodbye and leaves. The whole family is silent for a moment, analyzing what had happened. This was a lot of information, for such a short time. "Mom…you are staying here!!!" says lo'ak, the boy is so excited. He was about to cry. The only family member who hadn't said anything was jake, he was still sitting in the same position.

"Lo'ak…why did you go talk to tonowari and not say anything to me" jake sounded upset, in fact he looked upset. "Jake" neytiri starts talking, she already knew what jake was going to come out with. "Dad it's just that you had argued with him and I wanted to fix things" lo'ak tries to explain his point of view. "You know this could have ended worse" jake says, you pick yourself up off the floor. Making a noise like 'ha'. Jake looks at you in surprise. "I can't believe it, your son has done something wonderful. And instead of congratulating him…you're scolding him? You are unbelievable jake" you speak, while crossing your arms. Neytiri could see your position, and if there was one thing she knew, it was that you were not an easy woman. You might be small, but your character and the power you had over Jake was gigantic. "Okay, everybody calm down. Lo'ak you did a great job" neytiri reaches up to stroke the boy's face. "And jake…Y/N is right, no need to complain" neytiri speaks, hoping everything will calm down.

Jake takes a deep breath, stretching his arms in the air. Shaking his body a little, stretching out one of his hands to signal for you to come closer. He had a goofy grin on his face, when he felt you approach his arm. Skillfully grabbing your waist, with a quick movement pulling you into his body . Cuddling you into his arms, filling your cheeks with kisses as your laughter could be heard throughout the marui. This was supposed to be a moment of happiness for the family, they were finally going to be together after a long time apart. That same morning, everyone helped to unpack all the belongings. Neytiri was thankful that the heaviest things had not been packed, because they did have a lot of things. Also that night, the family celebrated like in the old days, of course…inside the marui and in silence. Preparing a good meal, dancing and laughing about the old days. It felt so nostalgic, it had been a long time since they had had such a good time.

Everyone got ready to rest. The boys settled into their hammocks, ready to sleep. As in the old days, you went one by one to say good night to them. Giving them a kiss on the forehead. First it was tuk, then kiri, then neteyam and for the last it was lo'ak. "Goodnight my precious baby" you speak, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Watching as lo'ak giggles tenderly, he looked so adorable like that. "Mama can you sleep with me?" lo'ak asks you, causing a smile from you. "Love…" you didn't know what to say to him, lo'ak was too old for you to sleep with him. But you felt sorry for your boy, he had missed you so much. But if you were going to be fair, all the children in the family had asked to sleep with you. Just before you could give an answer, Jake came up behind you. "ahh no, your mom is going to sleep with us…and that's it" says jake, seeing how lo'ak's face is one of sadness. "I promise you that later mom will sleep with you, ok?" you speak, saying goodbye again to lo'ak.

Jake and you walked away. Jake looked back, to see lo'ak giving him a dirty look. This surprised Jake, chuckling to himself. As he walked you over to the hammock you shared. "Ney" you hum, as you climb into the hammock. Snuggling into neytiri's chest, she snuggles you into her arms. Feeling jake settle in behind you. "Your son hates me," jake says, burying his head in the back of your neck. "Which one?" you speak, as neytiri lets out a laugh. "Hey" jake slaps you on your ass. You and neytiri continue to laugh. "I'm talking about lo'ak, you would have seen the way he looks at me" jake was still shocked, lo'ak had never looked at him like that. "You asked for it…you're taking his mom" says neytiri. "Yeah but his mom…she's ours too, isn't she?" says jake, leaving a few wet kisses on your neck. Neytiri hugs you tighter on her chest, you felt so good. You had missed them too much.

2 months later…

You had gotten used to life in the new clan pretty fast. You had started taking some lessons with ronal on fishing, since you couldn't ride an ilu. You had to do everything the traditional way, according to the na'vis. But for you it was normal, humans had to do things traditionally all the time. So fishing with a net, collecting the things you had to use, even though it was more difficult, you had managed it. Ronal was still not very sure about you, whenever you were with her there was always your bodyguard, Neytiri. Your partner did not leave you alone with Ronal at any time. According to Neytiri Ronal could tempt you with your life. You thought she was overreacting, but you didn't argue with neytiri about such things, she had always been that way with you.

On the other hand, tonowari could tell that everything jake and lo'ak had told her about you was true. You were the most peaceful person he had ever met. He had barely listened to you, well… he hadn't talked to you much. But whenever he saw you, you were always with your children, or helping a clan member. Tonowari would approach the na'vis and ask them what they thought of you. They would always respond with a 'she is very nice''I like her, she is a very good person'. This would relieve it a little, but you were still on probation.

On the other hand, your relationship with your family was in a good state, better than ever. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. Or so you thought. It was morning around 10:00 am as far as you could calculate. Kiri had insisted the night before that you accompany her to look for shells on the beach where she liked to go. You accepted without a problem, you had nothing to do and wanted to spend time with one of your girls. Lo'ak was invited to the expedition, of course he didn't have to ask…he was always with you. If he wasn't with his friends, it was behind you. "Hey…watch out, the sun looks like it's going to be very hot" says neytiri. If the sun was bad for the na'vi, it was worse for you. You joke a little, watching as neytiri approaches you to put some kind of cream on you to protect you from the sun. You and Jake joked that this was a sunblock bomb, because the smell was so strong. "Ahh I hate that smell!!!" you complain, but neytiri nips you a little to stop you from moving. "Yeah…but you're going to thank me when you don't get burned like a tapirus" neytiri sounds angry, seeing that you don't take her concern seriously.

You say goodbye and leave with kiri and lo'ak towards the beach. They arrived quickly, the place was very close. Kiri was lying in the water, sinking her face from time to time. While you were sitting next to her, you had your head back and your eyes closed. Enjoying the warmth, it had rained a lot the previous days. The weather felt great. While lo'ak was playing eywa knows where. You could just hear the water splashing in the distance. Out of nowhere, you feel someone approach and make a spray of water fall on your face. "Lo'ak…watch out!!!" you scold, seeing the boy laughing in front of you. He looked like a puppy about to make a mischief. "Mom, I want you to meet someone?" says lo'ak. This gets your attention, settling in straight to look at him. "Is it a girl? Tsireya?" you ask, lo'ak gets nervous and moves his face in a 'no' expression. "It's something better…it's my other brother" lo'ak says, you look at him curiously. Lo'ak had gone crazy, as far as you knew the only brother he had was neteyam. "You mean teyam?" you say.

Lo'ak lets out a laugh, as he sits closer to you. "Mama no, he is ahhh he is a tulkun. I want you to meet him" lo'ak was excited, he wanted you to meet payakan. You think about it for a while, but you accept. You couldn't say no to that adorable little face. You tap kiri's shoulder. The little girl lifts her face. "What happened, Mom?" speaks Kiri, and you brush a few strands of hair out of her face. "Honey I'm going for a walk with lo'ak do you want to go?" you ask her. "Nooo mama just you and me" lo'ak complains, crossing his arms. "You don't have to yell…mom don't worry I'll be here a while longer and then I'll go home" kiri says.

"Ok….but be very careful. I trust you" you speak, watching as Kiri smiles at you and goes back to playing with the little fish in the area. You get up from the water, accompanying lo'ak. He was already jumping up and down with excitement. Telling you all about his friend, how he met him and where he came from. All while walking towards his ilu. The trip was quite fast, lo'ak arrived getting up a little from his ilu. Calling out his friend's name. "Mama he will be here soon" lo'ak looks around, seeing if he saw his friend. "Don't worry if he doesn't come" you speak up, but remain silent when you see as a shadow below you. "Here he is!!!" lo'ak says, excited. Payakan comes out of the water, making a noise of greeting. "Payakan look…this is my mom. Remember I told you about her?" says lo'ak moving to the side, to take your hand. So that you would come closer to him. Lo'ak sometimes forgot that your legs were shorter and you were smaller. But you manage to stand now on the creature's flipper. While lo'ak's ilu begins to swim around.

"Mama he is payakan my brother…and payakan she is my mama" lo'ak speaks, petting the creature. Tulkun makes another noise, and you startle a little. You had to admit that this was very new to you. You still didn't understand the language of signs very well, let alone this creature. "mama he says you are very pretty" says lo'ak. You could see the look of pride on his face, this was very important to him. "Thank you" you look at payakan, and he gets excited. Making a stream of water come out of his back. "Mama likes you very much" lo'ak says. You giggle a little, reaching over to pet the creature. It was very amazing and majestic. You and lo'ak spent the whole afternoon playing and hanging out together. For a moment, you just sit in lo'ak's ilu, watching the boy swim and play with his friend. You loved seeing him like that, so happy and carefree.

After a while, for some reason you started to feel sick. You had felt dizzy that morning, but you didn't think it was important. But now you were feeling worse, the dizziness was getting stronger and your vision was getting quite blurry. And not to mention the headache and stomach pain you were getting. "L-lo'ak" you yell under your breath. You were already writhing in pain, you lean forward. Trying to get your balance. The ilu of lo'ak noticed something was going on, and began to make a lot of noise. Catching lo'ak's attention, the boy stops swimming and takes a look at your location. He can tell how you were moving oddly, and his ilu looked a little uneasy.

He swims as fast as he can, coming towards you. "MAMA, MAMA!!!" lo'ak approaches and tries to get your attention. Lifting your shoulder, but he sees how you don't respond. You had fainted, your body was resting in the ilu. "Mom get up, what's wrong with you!!!" lo'ak is getting very desperate, what had happened to you, you were fine minutes ago. Maybe the sun was too strong, or you were sick. Lo'ak climbs into his ilu, carrying you in his arms. Leaving for the clan, he made his ilu swim as fast as possible, but he could not hold back his tears. You were still not getting up and he was getting desperate. "mama please…get up" shouts lo'ak shaking you a little. The trip back was a long one for lo'ak, arriving at the coast. Shouting his father's name for him to arrive. "Dad!!!dad!!!help!!!" shouts lo'ak.

Jake had arrived at the marui, he was accompanied by neytiri. Kiri had told them that you and lo'ak had gone for a walk. But she didn't tell them where you were going, this made Jake a little nervous. Jake was very careful with you, and even more so since you were on probation. You couldn't cause trouble or else they would have to leave. Jake hears the shouts of lo'ak, who were approaching the marui. "What's going on?" neytiri gets up from the ground, running to the entrance accompanied by jake. Watching as lo'ak enters with his mother in his arms. You had woken up on the road, but a you were still very dizzy. "Y/N!!!" neytiri takes you in her arms, and quickly places you on the ground. "Lo'ak what happened…what happened?" shouts jake, sitting down next to neytiri. Watching as the woman tried to stabilize y/n. "Honey, come on open your eyes" says jake, tapping you on the cheek. While neytiri placed a wet cloth on her forehead, jake tried to get your oxygen machine to pump out more oxygen (here I'm talking about the mask the reader is wearing).

After a while, neytiri managed to get you up. "Take some water" neytiri speaks, stroking your hair. You were sitting up, feeling tired and even a little dizzy. Lo'ak was standing all this time, watching as his parents tried to help you. "Don't worry…it was just a dizzy feeling" you laugh a little. "A simple dizziness…ma y/n you were unconscious" neytiri speaks annoyed. Meanwhile jake was walking from one side of the marui to the other. "Lo'ak what the hell happened? What did you do?" jake looks at lo'ak intensely. "I…mom and I were at the sea. We were visiting payakan" lo'ak says timidly. The poor boy looks at you quickly, trying to seek your help. "J-jake" you speak softly. But you watch as your partner ignores you, and moves closer to lo'ak. "Why are you so ignorant…you know that's a dangerous place for your mother" jake yells.

"But daddy" lo'ak tries to defend himself. "Dad nothing… why are you like this? You're fucking irresponsible" jake yells again. But the words were like a knife to lo'ak, jake was acting as if the boy had caused this on purpose. "JAKE" you yell, getting up from the ground. Neytiri tries to stop you, but you walk towards jake. "What the hell is wrong with you?" you look at Jake in shock. "I'm telling him the truth, why can't he behave like neteyam" says jake.

"Because he's not neteyam!!!!" you yell as loud as you can. Lo'ak wipes away some tears and runs out of the marui. "Lo'ak come over here!!!" jake was going to stop lo'ak, but you stop him. "What do you want him to stay for?" you were annoyed, jake was always going overboard with lo'ak. He didn't half like how he talked to his son. "Why do you keep comparing lo'ak to neteyam? They are completely different people. Besides this whole situation is not his fault" you speak.

"But he knows he shouldn't take you to that place," Jake speaks. "Jake, I'm a grown woman…I do what I want. And I'm getting sick and tired of this attitude you have with our kids. I'm reaching my limit" you were so upset, you were turning red with anger. "Y/N listen to me" jake tries to speak.

"I don't want to listen to you…this isn't something that's happening now. This has been going on for years. Have you ever wondered why your children look at you with fear, because yes, they are afraid of you? Have you ever asked them how they feel or what they want to do, no. You just give orders and think that everyone is doing what they want to do. You just give orders and think everyone here is going to follow them." You yell, pacing a bit all over the marui. Neytiri was sitting on the floor watching and listening to all the discussion. She wasn't saying anything, because she knows you were right.

"I think I'm tired of this…I love you Jake, I love you with all my soul, but I think it's best if we go back to our home… "You lower your head, you felt bad and this whole situation was exhausting you more. You didn't want it to escalate to this level. "Let's go home?" jake gets a little confused, glancing quickly at neytiri. She lifts her shoulders, she didn't know what you were talking about. "I will go with lo'ak to our home, live with mo'at. If any of the children want to leave with me I will take them. But I will not leave them here…getting this treatment. Because they deserve to have a normal childhood" you had tears in your eyes. Leaving Jake there silent and stunned, as you walked towards the Marui's balcony. Neytiri gets up quickly chasing after you.

"Y/N!!!" neytiri holds your hand, you didn't want to look at her. You were too overwhelmed. "Tell me what you are saying is not true. You love us, you love me and Jake. We can work this out." neytiri makes you look at her. She knew you were right, but she couldn't let you go. Let one of her children go away. "I can't stand jake" you yell a little. Neytiri stands there in silence, she knew you weren't really saying it, you loved Jake. Something was happening to you. "You are not serious" neytiri sounded sad. "Ney…let's go away, the two of us, let's go back home. I need to be home" you start crying, the more you talk. Neytiri pulls you to her chest, wrapping you in a very tight hug. "Ma y/n…be calm. I miss our home too" says neytiri. Sitting there, with you in her arms.she sensed something was happening to you, something in you was changing, you weren't like that. Meanwhile, Jake was not far from you. He felt so bad…this was his fault.

"Do you think mom will leave us?" tuk looks at neteyam and kiri. The group of kids had been spying on their parents, when they saw lo'ak come out of the marui. The boy was sitting next to neteyam. He was still teary-eyed. "Well I'm going to my mama's," said lo'ak, he was upset. "I…I don't know. But I don't want mom to leave" neteyam looks back inside the marui. This is the first time he has seen his parents argue like this.

P.s I promise I will upload the next part soon. But I would like to know what you guys think so far. And what do you think is going to happen?

Tag: @baybaybear1@hoodiepandaninja16@teyyyteyyy@anika-rose-walker@victoria2054 @raviolisblog @jessi-dan@neteyams-wh0re@jimfiqs@bitchykittenconnoisseur@chershire23@holynightnacho@danilezilla @thepotatoislost

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i just wanna get to know you, guess i didn’t quite think it through.

CHAPTER TWO! pairing, paige bueckers x fem!oc. notes, thank you guys for all the love on the first part!!! it only made me more excited for this rollercoaster fr... here’s part two 🫦 not proofread… warnings, injury and the angst with that!

july, 2022

it had been a few weeks since sana’s first practice, and things had shifted between her and paige—though not entirely for the better or worse.

the sun had been setting over the outdoor court. it was one of those perfect summer nights where the heat had finally loosened its grip and mellowed to something more bearable. the team had migrated outside because the gym’s ac was busted, and this hangout—just a casual run, really—felt different. lighter. less pressure.

azzi had brought a speaker, blasting music that set the tone for the evening. most of the girls had left to grab pizza and bring it back, but a few stayed behind, shooting around, lounging on the benches, laughing and talking.

sana had blended in perfectly with the huskies these past few weeks, getting along especially well with nika, azzi, and caroline. nika, in particular, had taken a liking to her no-nonsense attitude, and let’s just say practice was a pain in the ass for their coaches when they weren’t entirely focused. when nika made a joke, sana was always there to back it up, making it ten times funnier. you can also say that paige caught most of these strays.

the rest of the team seemed to quickly hop on the sana train themselves. she was a perfectionist in a way that wasn’t overbearing, and it was why her game was so good in the first place. she made everyone around her better by just being herself, and it showed. but even so, she’d built rapport with most of them, save for one notable exception.

paige bueckers, of course.

paige, who had spent the last few weeks vacillating between subtle irritation and begrudging respect when it came to sana. there were moments where she’d find herself looking and wondering why she couldn’t just relax, couldn’t just click with her the way she did with everyone else. if it wasn’t exactly hate, then what was it?

they weren’t at each other’s throats, in fact, the first day of practice was probably as hostile as it had ever gotten between them. sana was mature enough to the point where she wouldn’t let it get that far, but always pushed it borderline to the edge. every interaction was like a test, some back-and-fourth exchange that only left paige to think what the fuck sana even meant by what she’d just said, because she swore there was some bigger meaning.

the first few weeks had been like that. testing boundaries. sana with her measured responses, and paige with her quick retorts and lingering glances in which she always denied, kinda like right now.

paige was standing near the sideline, pretending to dribble aimlessly while keeping a very subtle eye on sana, who had moved to grab a drink of water at the other end of the court. it was unintentional—at least that’s what she told herself—but her eyes always seemed to find their way back to her, no matter where she was.

the blonde found herself noticing other things, things she had no business noticing for the amount of times she’s actually had a conversation with the girl that didn’t include some type of jab. the way sana’s smile tilted just a bit when she was being sarcastic, the way her eyes narrowed slightly when she was focused. paige hated that she noticed those things—hated that sana was in her head at all.

nika, who had been watching the whole thing with a growing smirk, sauntered over to paige, draping an arm over her shoulders. “you know, if you’re gonna keep staring, at least make it less obvious.”

paige elbowed her in the side, pushing the brunette off of her with a smug smirk. “you can shut up.”

nika stumbled back dramatically, clutching her side as if paige had actually hurt her. “damn, alright!” she laughed, tossing her ponytail behind her head. “but seriously, i thought this was just a first day thing. shouldn’t the transfer aftershock be well over by now?”

paige rolled her eyes, licking her lips as more of a habit than necessity as she began dribbling the basketball again. she kept her head down, focusing on the sound against the pavement as she passed from hand to hand, sliding the ball between her legs a few times too. “there’s nothing to get over.”

“sure, sure,” nika said, her grin wide, as if she didn’t believe a single word. her eyes flicked between paige and the far end of the court, where sana had just finished downing half a water bottle, her shoulders rising and falling. she then looked at azzi, who had been making her way back over from messing with the songs on her playlist.

of course her best friend had noticed too.

“wait, what are we talking about? paige and sana?” azzi threw out as if she’d been dying to talk about it for a hot minute. “because you have got a terrible poker face,” the curly-haired girl pointed at paige, the comment sending nika into a fit of snickers that had her hunching over.

paige’s head whipped to her. “nah, you can chill too,” she said, pointing at azzi with mock exasperation. “and it’s not that funny,” paige deadpanned, although she couldn’t bite back her smirk for the life of her.

nika straightened up, giving paige a faux serious look as she tilted her head back thoughtfully. “okay, sure you don’t wanna tell her how good she looks in navy?”

and well, it only made the blonde more upset that she did indeed look too good in that damn navy workout tee.

“i ain’t even lookin’ at her like that,” paige said, too defensive way too quickly. she punctuated her response with a cheesy grin, the type she used to play it cool while her insides were knotting up.

“really? cause you’ve got that whole wistful longing look on lock down.” nika gave her a look herself, a long one that made the blonde semi-uncomfortable. the brunette was reading her to filth, but paige had came to the conclusion awhile ago that nothing could happen if the feelings weren’t reciprocated. nothing would happen.

“wistful?” paige stared, shaking her head. “she hates me.”

nika raised her eyebrows, jerking her head back. “oh! so you’re saying you’d crush if she didn’t hate you?”

paige huffed out a laugh, scrunching her face up as she let the ball roll to a stop under her foot. “crush is actually crazy, nika.”

“eh, not entirely,” azzi chimed in, her eyes gleaming with that ‘i see you’ look. nika practically jumped for joy at the backup, like it was a victory to have someone else on her side. clearly, she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

paige groaned internally, feeling cornered and slightly taken aback. “y’all think i have no self-control? we’re teammates.”

nika crossed her arms, smirking. “i’m praying that you do.”

paige paused for a second, brain tripping over nika’s words. that’s what everyone thought, right? that they were just teammates, that the line couldn’t be crossed. she kept telling herself that too—telling herself that all these games, all the heat, and tension between her and sana would eventually fizzle out because it had to. because it was supposed to.

“let’s be real for a second,” azzi said, looking down as she searched for the right words. she had a ball tucked underneath her arm. “if anything did happen between y’all—and i’m not saying it will—” she shot paige a pointed look, one that told her to not get defensive and cut her off. “—it’d throw the whole team off balance.”

“i know!” the blonde cut in, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. “but that’s not even on the table. nothing’s gonna happen.” she felt like she was convincing herself more than anyone else.

nika shrugged. “i mean, you say that now, but feelings are weird. and they don’t care about what’s allowed.”

paige stayed quiet for a second, turning over the idea. they don’t care about what’s allowed. feelings don’t care about what you’ve got going on, they just seep their way in.

she knew the rules, of course—both the ones the coaching staff had laid out and the unspoken ones. she couldn’t let this thing, whatever it was, turn into more. it wasn’t just about her or sana. it was about the team. the season. the future. the problem was that knowing that didn’t make the tension between them any less real. or maybe it was all in her head.

they don’t care about what’s allowed.

just as paige was about to respond, sana, oblivious—or pretending to be—was making her way back over to the group, the lazy saunter in her step practically designed to test paige’s patience. she straightened up instinctively, breathing in all straight-faced as she leaned over to pick up the ball from the ground.

“i brought friends,” she announced, caroline and ice stalking behind her. “what are you guys so serious about?” sana then asked, her eyes shifting between nika and azzi before landing on paige, as if her comment was more directed at the blonde. the question felt a little too casual, like sana had noticed how much less at ease paige was compared to just a few moments ago before she’d left.

“uh,” paige cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, feeling uncharacteristically off-balance. “we were just…talkin’ about the team.”

nika stared at her friend in actual disbelief. she was stuttering, and normally she’d jump to make fun of her for it, but she wanted to observe how this would play out. her answer was vague, sure, but it was the best she could come up with on the spot. paige wasn’t used to being caught off guard, especially not by sana. their interactions—when they did happen—were usually trash talk that was easy to brush off in the moment but lingered with her long after. but right now, there was something about sana’s direct attention that had her fumbling.

meanwhile, sana caught the hesitation in paige’s voice. she tilted her head ever so slightly, her smirk growing a little wider. paige stuttering? that was a first.

paige never stuttered.

ice broke the brief silence with a laugh. “are we playin’ or what?”

paige, determined to regain her footing, grinned and stepped back, dribbling the ball lazily between her legs as she walked backward. her eyes stayed locked on sana’s, her confidence slowly returning. “we’ll start,” she said, her voice a little lower now, challenging. “just don’t be mad when i drop 30 on you.”

sana’s smirk didn’t falter. she strolled closer, her hands clasped behind her back. “oh, you think you’re actually gonna score on me? i didn’t even know you had jokes like that.”

paige scrunched her face up, half from the setting sun taking over her eyesight, and half in disbelief. “i got more than just jokes,” she shot back, continuing to walk backward, her grin widening as she bounced the ball from hand to hand. “you ready to see?”

“i’m ready for you to see,” sana countered. her eyes moved down to the ball for a second before rising to meet paige’s again. then maybe to her perfectly parted pink lips, but then to her eyes again. “you’ll be the one sitting down after this.”

azzi, watching the scene unfold alongside everyone else, couldn’t hold back any longer. “double meaning,” she muttered under her breath, making nika nearly lose it beside her, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

sana’s gaze briefly moved toward azzi, catching the comment even though it was quiet. for a split second, her confident smirk faltered, and she narrowed her eyes at paige. “what were you talking about before i came back?” she asked, and the blonde should’ve known sana of all people would ask even if she had the slightest feeling it was about her. she was confrontational.

paige felt the shift immediately, recognizing that azzi’s offhand comment had landed. but instead of backing down, she kept her cool, though her heart was beating a little faster. “nothin’ you can’t handle,” she replied, her tone smug as she kept dribbling.

sana paused, tilting her head as she always did as if she was trying to piece everything together. “you guys talking about me?”

paige hesitated for half a second, barely noticeable to anyone except herself. “paranoid?”

“curious.”

paige licked her lips, holding her ground. “i said it was nothin’ you can’t handle, remember?”

sana’s smirk shifted, becoming a little sharper as she moved just close enough to make her presence felt. “right,” she said slowly, as if she didn’t believe her. “just wondering if i’m that interesting.”

the blonde’s eyes narrowed, fingers tightening around the basketball. “only when you talk too much.” she smiled, a wide one that left sana actually laughing as she pushed at her shoulder with two hands.

“shut up.”

paige stumbled back slightly, more out of performance than anything else, her grin never faltering. “you love to hate me, don’t you?”

sana blinked, clearly thrown, and for a moment paige had thought she’d pushed too far. crossed some invisible line she couldn’t quite see. but what she wasn’t ready for was the simple, almost quiet reply that followed. in fact, sana cursed herself for how vulnerable she sounded, that her mind felt the need to make it known to paige.

“i don’t hate you.”

and well, paige was thrown too.

august, 2022

you could’ve asked paige bueckers two weeks ago where she’d be today, right now, and it would be nowhere along the lines of sitting hopelessly in her bed with a torn acl injury. two weeks ago, she was at practice, thinking about championships, the first game all the way in november, and how invincible they’d be this season. two weeks ago, everything made sense.

now, nothing did.

she stared at the ceiling, the weight of the brace on her knee acting like a reminder she couldn’t shake off. the ache wasn’t just physical—it was deep, gnawing at her, like she’d lost a part of herself. this wasn’t supposed to happen. not to her. and now, she couldn’t even walk without wincing.

her phone vibrated with a text from her mom, the same encouraging words she’d gotten since the surgery: “you’re strong, paige. you’ll get through this.”

she knew her family meant well, but the truth was, they weren’t here. they weren’t the ones stuck in this room, feeling like the walls were closing in. they weren’t the ones who had to deal with the brutal reality of an injury that would change everything. they came through, sure—reassured her, gave her hugs, gifts, and pep talks, but then they left. they had lives to return to, jobs, obligations. paige was left here, marooned on campus, staring at a future she couldn’t control.

she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to watch the replay of the moment it happened. the wrong landing, the sharp twist, the way she knew immediately that something was off. the doctor’s words played on a loop in her head: “it’s a torn acl, paige. you’re gonna need surgery.” it was like they were speaking in slow motion, but time sped up so quickly after that. surgery dates just days after, recovery plans, the end of everything she’d been working for—at least for the season, maybe more.

how did this happen so fast?

she let out a breath, reaching for the bottle of water on her bedside table. caroline had been a constant, at least. she’d stuck around, even when she could’ve gone home to her family, to summer plans that didn’t involve taking care of her friend. the blonde was grateful, but there was a part of her that felt…resentful. she didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, and yet, here she was.

the door creaked open, and paige looked up, expecting caroline to walk in with her usual easy smile. but it wasn’t caroline.

it was sana.

paige’s brows furrowed. she didn’t expect to see her until practices started up again, let alone here, on campus, in the middle of summer. her hair was braided into two neat french braids, her skin glowing like she hadn’t just been dealing with whatever hell life had thrown at her.

“sana… what’re you doing here?” paige asked, more bluntly than she intended. there was a part of her that didn’t trust this—sana showing up out of nowhere, like she cared. she’d checked in alongside the rest of the team, yes, but to show up? it was an entirely different story.

sana shrugged, her usual confidence slightly muted. “i thought i’d check in.” she didn’t sit down, didn’t drop her bag. she lingered near the doorway, like she wasn’t sure if she should stay.

paige stared at her, suddenly a little self-conscious that sana had been seeing her like this, her knee propped up on a stack of pillows caroline had set up for her. she didn’t know why. “thought you’d be enjoying your summer.”

sana’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering for just a second before she shrugged again, more casually this time. “not much to enjoy back home.”

paige felt that. but she wasn’t about to let her guard down just because sana had decided to play the good teammate card. “what, your family didn’t want you back?” she asked, half-joking, half-serious.

sana’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and paige caught it. ah, she thought. there it was—something deeper. something that made her just as messed up inside as paige felt right now.

“they weren’t exactly throwing a party for my return,” sana said, leaning against the wall now, arms crossed over her chest. she avoided eye contact, and paige suddenly felt like an asshole for pressing.

“everybody’s got their shit right now then, huh?” paige muttered, sighing as she leaned back against the her headboard.

sana glanced at her, a small smirk playing on her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “yeah, something like that.” she finally moved from the doorway, settling on the chair across the room. there was still distance between them, but it was the closest they’d ever gotten to having a multi-layered conversation, something that unlocked all of the fronts sana had put up.

paige shifted slightly, watching her. the tension between them, however, was still there—longing, unspoken things neither of them seemed ready to admit, but for once, it felt like they weren’t playing a game. paige didn’t know if she could handle another layer of uncertainty in her life right now, but this? it felt different. on the other hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that sana was here out of obligation rather than choice.

“why’d you really come?” paige asked, her voice softer now.

sana met her eyes, a set of absolutely exhausted blue hues. “i know we’re not exactly best friends, but it felt like the right thing to do,” she huffed out.

paige couldn’t help but smirk, and sana had seen that look before. she furrowed her eyebrows, already sensing the shift. “what?” she asked, her hands gesturing in a way that made it clear she wasn’t about to play along with whatever paige was thinking.

her smirk widened. “who knew all it would take is me getting injured for you to stop hating me.”

sana’s reaction was immediate. her lips parted slightly, and she gave a little shake of her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe the words had just come out of paige’s mouth. “i told you i didn’t hate you, p. i’ve never hated you.” the words came out firm, but not defensive.

“you do know you act like it though, right?” she was almost pleading for honesty at this point. “before your transfer. you never even looked my way.”

sana blinked, her posture stiffening slightly. it wasn’t like paige to push like this, to dig beneath the surface. and she definitely hadn’t expected to come here and admit so much, but maybe all they needed was to be sat down in a room together. no noise, no basketball. still, sana couldn’t help the way her defenses rose instinctively. “i didn’t have to look your way,” she said, but there was no bite to her words. it was more of an explanation, a little tired and raw. “everyone already was.”

paige didn’t move, just blinked. “except you.”

sana opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. she wasn’t sure how to explain it—to put into words why she had kept her distance. why she acted like paige didn’t exist, like she wasn’t the one person who’d always gotten under her skin without even trying.

“i don’t know,” sana finally admitted. “i guess… i didn’t want to.”

paige raised an eyebrow. “didn’t want to?”

she let out a breath, leaning forward slightly as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to bear while sitting back. “i’m just competitive. i push myself hard, and you’re one of the best. it’s not hate; it’s just… i don’t know. maybe i was trying to keep up with you.”

sana caruso had said she didn’t know two times practically within the same breath. for the first time, she’d seen the girl actually be unsure of something, unsure about her.

“and i’ve never hated you,” sana repeated, locking eyes with paige as if she needed her to really feel it. “i admire you, actually.”

was this real life?

“i guess i always thought you were untouchable,” paige confessed, mainly because it felt right. “like, you had everything figured out. and here i am, sitting on the sidelines while you about to be out there thriving.” she could’ve chuckled at the thought.

sana shook her head, the playful bravado she usually wore like armor slipping away. “you have no idea how often i felt like i was just pretending. like i was always one mistake away from everyone realizing i wasn’t as good as they thought.”

for a moment, paige didn’t know what to say. it was almost laughable—how similar they were in all the ways that mattered, but neither of them had seen it until now.

“i get that,” she finally said, her voice stripped of its usual humor. “i get it more than you think. i feel like i’ve already made that mistake.”

sana’s eyes softened, and there was an understanding that hadn’t been there before. and for the first time in what felt like forever, paige didn’t feel so alone. she felt seen. by sana, of all people.

“you’ll be back on the court before you know it,” sana said, her voice a little brighter now. she could tell paige had been getting in her head about the injury again, and although she hadn’t experienced something as life-changing as that, she could be there for her. “i can’t wait to see you kick everyone’s ass again.”

paige let out a breath, a laugh breaking through her chest, light but full of relief. “and you’re gonna get our team that chip.”

and sana smiled. at paige.

our team.

[yazzwrites6962]

hi! I really loved your niragi and chishiya works! I can't wait to see more of redemption! I really enjoy seeing how people write characters like these two and how they interpret them, and so far, I've enjoyed how you wrote them!

Redemption ♡ Suguru Niragi ♡ Part Two

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Suguru Niragi x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Part One: Here

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Shoutout to those who asked for another part. I love you guyssss. Also, Y/N's profession/life before the Borderlands is mentioned. Feel free to change it! Sorry for the super long chapter. I know it's pretty messy. I'll work on editing and cleaning up soon. I had four midterms this week, because my professors hate me. Again, I don't own any characters/images!

Genre: BIG ANGST. Maybe a word or two of fluff

Summary: As it becomes obvious that Niragi has a soft spot for Y/N, he is forced to prove where his loyalties lie.

Word Count: 5397

Warnings: Sexual themes, language, OOC Niragi, derogatory language referencing the reader, mentions of substance use, fear, blood, injury, death, cliffhanger

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"You seem different." A gruff voice teased, nudging Niragi's arm. "You're all smitten over that one girl, aren't you? Is the pussy that good? Maybe I'll have to try her out myself." Niragi flinched, growling at the fellow militant. The room filled with laughter. "She's got a pretty pair of eyes I'd love to see rolling back."

"I'm not different," He huffed, loading his gun. "and I'm not smitten. Get outta here with that lovey dovey bullshit." It had been four days since your last game with Niragi, and the members of the Beach would have to be blind not to have noticed the change in his demeanor.

Every day since that game, Niragi would wake up bright and early to have a silent breakfast with you. You didn't speak much, as you were usually very groggy in the morning. Instead, he would enjoy your sleepy presence. He had grown fond of your messy hair and the way you covered your face when you yawned. He enjoyed seeing the way your eyes drooped even while you shoveled food into your mouth. He loved to look at you; The raw you.

"Nahhh man. You've obviously got a soft spot for the chick." Chimed another militant. "You used to go 'round killing people and shit. Yelling and fucking bitches, getting high all the time. You were fun. Now you're having breakfast with the boring one."

Why were you referred to the boring one? That's difficult to say. Maybe because you spent so much time with Kuina and Chishiya, who mostly seemed to be on the sidelines at parties. Maybe because of your calm nature. Maybe because you were a decent diamonds player. Either way, nobody had envisioned Niragi falling for a 'boring' girl. He was always spotted dragging rowdy women back to his room, notorious for his partner of the night being loud enough to shake the entire floor.

"I do not have a soft spot." Niragi seethed, slamming his gun against the wall and making a loud bang. Everyone jumped, but then continued to laugh at Niragi's frustration. He didn't know why it irritated him so much to be accused of having a soft spot for you. Normally, he couldn't care less about what others thought.

"Then prove it." Chuckled one of the guys. "Your visa is about to expire, ain't it? Hers too, right? Why don't you kill her?" In the normal world, death would be extreme. The mere suggestion of killing another person would send the room into a silent shock. However, in the Borderlands, killing people meant nothing. The militants, especially Niragi, would kill people all the time.

Death to traitors, death to enemies in games, death to anyone who got in the way. It's safe to say that Niragi was probably the most trigger happy of the whole group. Then why? Why did the idea make him feel so nauseous? Even in the last game, you'd injured your led. Watching the blood run down your body as you limped through the game felt like torture to him.

"I'm not gonna kill a the girl just because you tell me to, asshat." Niragi replies, trying to summon up everything he has in order to seem calm. Really, he's panicked inside. He may not be religious, but he prays to any deity that will listen; He prays that the other militants will drop the subject.

"No, think about it." The guy shining his gun in the corner inserts himself into the conversation. "We are the power; We are the order here at the Beach. Right? We gotta stick together. We can't have you getting distracted over a pretty bitch."

"Man, maybe that's a little extreme. She seems like a fine girl, so why not let the man have his fun with her?" Relief washes over Niragi as someone advocates for him. For you. You deserve an advocate in your defense. Why was he so hesitant to be that?

"If the people of the Beach see Niragi going all soft, they're gonna think the rest of us are soft too. This place runs on fear and respect. If people don't fear us anymore, it creates chaos. Do you want chaos? Huh?" The man shining his gun continues to explain, slowly winning over the agreement of the others.

"Bro you must be drunk or something." The advocate rolls his eyes, standing up to leave the room. Before he can get to the door, a loud shot fires and echoes through the little room. There is no more laughter, only absolute silence. The advocate, your advocate, was dead. Shot, clean through the back of the head.

"Dude what the fuck-" Someone pipes up, but the man who shot him only rolls his eyes, unphased by the death. Maybe nobody in the room is very phased by death itself, only at the man's extreme reaction to someone's disagreement.

"This is what we're about guys. C'mon. Fuck! We're the militants. Even saying our names brings fear into people here. Lives are meaningless in this place. His life meant nothing to anyone. Can a single person in here tell me his name?" Crickets. Silence. Niragi debates shooting this lunatic, but every pair of eyes in the room suddenly land on him. "So, Niragi, is it gonna be us or your bitch of the week?"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"What were you, before you came here?" You ask, suddenly breaking the silence in your morning ritual. You were more alert today, knowing that at the end of the night, you could be dead. Your visa expires today. "Were you in the military?"

"No." Niragi replies coldly, poking at an egg on his plate. You continue to watch him as he toys with his food, still waiting for a longer answer. His eyes meet yours before he groans and sits back in his chair. "Game engineer. Why in the world would you think I was in the military?"

"Oh, it's just the way you swing that gun around. You always seem so confident." You giggle and flash him a smile. "Who would've thought there a brain somewhere in that hard head of yours?" His eyes flash with irritation for a moment at your joke.

"Watch yourself. I could still shoot you." He grumbles. You know he's joking. You are truly convinced that behind that hard exterior, Niragi is a sweetheart. You could see it in the little things he did. In the way he would look for you to waddle down the stairs every morning, in the way he glanced at you while you were with Kuina, in the way he always happened to be around your hallway at the end of the night to make sure you got back safe. His excuse was that he just seems to be patrolling the area around that time. "What did you do?"

"I was studying pediatrics." You take a sip of your drink, remembering your life before the Borderlands. You were always the perfect student. You were praised for your talents and intelligence, following the expectations that were always weighing in your life. You enjoyed your field, of course. You wanted to help children and make the word a safer place. However, the academic burnout had been really catching up to you. In a way, you were grateful to be taken to the Borderlands when you were. As horrific as all the death was, at least you had some peace during the visa days.

"That girl will be a doctor, or a lawyer someday. Maybe even an engineer." You recall the endless praise you received from teachers and loved ones. It was always the expectation that everything came naturally to you. "I'll be sure to push her in the right direction. She has too much potential to let it all go to waste."

"Cute." Niragi comments, taking a sip of his coffee. "Suits you." Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you can't help but let a filly grin grow on your face. Niragi rolls his eyes, smirking and shaking his head. "Don't get used to it. You're still a dork."

"Y/N!" You hear your name being hollered, and quickly turn your head to see who it was, despite already recognizing the voice. It's so early, the sun has barely risen. Most people aren't up at such a time, leaving a sweet privacy between you and Niragi. However, this was interrupted by a very concerned looking Kuina. She had never seen you and Niragi actually talking before.

"Kuina! You're up unusually early. What's up?" You say joyfully, as if you weren't caught having a meal with the one person Kuina had been warning you about since you first arrived at the Beach. She eyes Niragi skeptically before he got the message, throwing his hands up and scoffing as he pushed his chair back and left the table. "Hey, why'd you give him such a dirty look?"

"What are you thinking?!" She whisper-yells, as a certain pierced male is still in earshot. "What are you doing down here with Niragi? You know nobody else is down here, right? He could do something to you!" You chuckle, thinking the idea absurd that Niragi would every do anything to hurt you.

"He's not really as bad as everyone says he is. We were just having breakfast. We do every morning." You explain, continuing to ramble on about your pleasant breakfasts. Kuina bites her lip. Of course, she cares about you and your wellbeing, but she also worries about what she will tell Chishiya.

Chishiya had a plan to steal the cards and use you as a decoy. Although Kuina wasn't entirely comfortable with this, she didn't have much of a choice. Now seeing how close with Niragi you were becoming; She debated if it would be much of a good idea to recruit you for the plan at all. Maybe, it would make you even better for the plan. Maybe upon being caught, Niragi would take it easier on you.

"Kuina? Are you okay?" You stand, taking her hands in yours, rubbing your thumbs over them gently. She blinks a few times, returning to the present moment before nodding. "I'm sorry I've worried you. I know you had concerns about him, but I'm a grown woman. I think I can judge him for myself, and I am super sure he would never do anything to me."

"How sure can you really be about anyone in a place like this?" Kuina sighs at your unrelenting trust in the good of humanity. If there was any good in this place, it's you. "Just be careful, okay? How sure is your super sure?"

"I am one-billion percent sure. I trust him." You nod, hugging her. You've been so grateful for what life in the Borderlands has brough you: A break from the pressure of your old life, Kuina, Chishiya, and Niragi. You trusted these people, your friends, with all your sweet, naive heart.

Little did you know, every single one of them had already been plotting against you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Wow! Two games in a row we get paired together! How lucky is that?" You exclaim, holding up your little piece of paper right beside Niragi's. It wasn't luck. It was rigged to be that way. You were meant to die in a game tonight.

"Uh huh. Luck." Niragi grimaces. You're terrified of what may come, but being in the same game as Niragi brings you a little comfort. After he had so nobly helped you in the last game, you had every bit of confidence that this one would be no different. "Just don't be a nuisance."

"Hey! I never am." You whine, making your way towards the car you're meant to take. Niragi watches you walk, the way your arms sway beside you. No matter what it is you're doing, he finds it alluring, and he begins to hate it.

He had come to the revelation that his fellow militants were right. There was just something about you that made him feel weak. It brought him back to the days when he was ruthlessly bullied and tormented, doing nothing to stop it. Would you be his downfall, and is he doing nothing to stop it? He growls, shaking the thoughts from his mind and following you to the car.

As usual, it was you in the back with two other people. Except this time, they were not lip locked lovers. They were strangers, sitting on either side with you in the middle. The young man beside you couldn't have been any older than fifteen, twiddling his thumbs nervously and staring out the window. You remember how afraid you were during your first game and wondered if this was his first game too.

Finally, after a drive that felt like hours, you arrive at a large building. It's not a tower, like your last game was. It's a gym with two floors, filled with various types of exercise equipment. Some rooms have ropes and rock walls, there's a pool, and the technology in the gym was generally very impressive.

"Must've cost a fortune to get a membership into this place." Someone comments. You make your way to the table with several phones on the table. It looks like one has already been taken, but you don't see anyone else in the room other than the people you made the journey with.

You take your device, holding steady as it scans your face. Two minutes and one second until registration closes. You look around the room, searching for Niragi. He's already eyeing you, but this time he doesn't look away when you spot him as he usually does. He gives you a look of pity, something you'd never seen from him before.

"Are you scared?" You ask, approaching him and hugging yourself. "No matter what the game is, we can get through it. I trust you, and you can trust me." You were terrified of the idea that there could possibly only be one survivor in this game. If it came down to it, the only chance you had in beating Niragi was in a diamonds game.

You stop your train of thought. Why were you already thinking about how you could beat Niragi? The game hadn't even started, and you were already brainstorming how to betray him if you truly had to. You shove those thoughts out of your mind determined to stay loyal to your friend.

"Scared?" He raises an eyebrow, scoffing. He was scared shitless. Not because of the game, but because of what may happen to you. On the one hand, he hoped you would die in this game. You were proving to cause more internal turmoil than you were worth. The other part hoped you would make it out alive, so you could eat breakfast together tomorrow. "If there's anything to be scared of here, it's me."

You giggle, finding his confidence adorable. If this game ended up being a gym related physical challenge, you had no doubt that he would make it out. You were not so confident. You weren't weak by any means, but you definitely weren't the strongest. You recall how badly you wanted to start regularly going to the gym, but you were always so engrossed in your studies.

A chime echoes through the room as the game instructions begin to recite over the speakers. The missing phone and its owner poke out of a shadowy hallway. It's a woman about your age with beautiful long brown hair.

Game: Workout - Seven of Spades

Rules: There will be three stages in this game, testing endurance, balance, and strength. Once a stage is completed, you may not return to that room. In your final challenge, there will be a key waiting for you. Retrieve your key and use it to unlock your door out of the building. Should you attempt to take another player's key or exit through a door which is not yours, you will be eliminated.

Clear Condition: Retrieve the key in the final challenge and unlock your door.

"Players, please make your way to the first room." The voice over the speakers says before going silent once again. A big arrow sign lights up, pointing to a room near the back of the gym. Everyone hesitantly follows the instructions.

The young man you sat near in the car opens the door first. Inside, there are several large balance beams and signs with each person's face, indicating which one each player should go to. You find your face, noticing the weights laid neatly at your feet.

Below the balance beams, which are hoisted nearly six feet in the air, the floor is littered with broken shards of glass. You shiver, dreading what would happen if you were to fall off your beam. There are instructions near each beam, clarifying that each player must make their way across the room on their beams with their weights, which are assigned based on body mass.

Your clock is ticking, and you'd rather not waste time. While some are arguing about trading weights, you pick yours up. They're decently heavy, you won't lie. You feel the tug in your shoulders. With your weights in hand, you begin to make your way across the balance beam. The height is terrifying, and you make mental note to breathe in and out at a healthy pace.

"Look! She's already going!" Someone says, but you don't dare look back. The beam stretched several meters, but you simply try to take it one foot in front of the other. Somehow, you make it to the other side quickly, dropping the weights onto the ground once you reach your destination.

"It's really easy, guys! Just don't panic. We'll finish this game in no time!" You shout back to the other side of the room. "How is this a seven of spades? That was... simple." You say to yourself as you watch the woman with long brown hair step onto her beam.

She had taken her shoes and sweatshirt off in an attempt to make this easier on herself. You could see the panic on her face as she turned back to look at the rest of the group.

"I- I can't! I'm scared of heights!" She squeals. Though you had never met this woman before, you sympathized with her terror, and you called for her to not look back. She took a step forward on the beam, trembling.

You continued to try and reassure the brown-haired woman while others began to cross their beams too. You advised her to watch her breathing and not focus on looking down, but on what was ahead. She had actually managed to make it halfway across the beam, and pride filled your heart.

Unfortunately, good things never last in the Borderlands. The woman looks down, her knees wobbling as she grows panicked once again. She looks back, realizing she is too far on the beam to turn around. You try to console her, but she is too terrified. Her legs buckle underneath her, and she slips off her beam, the weights falling out of her hands as she crashed six feet down into the ground.

The crunch of glass fills the room and the woman begins screaming, blood pouring out from her body as she tried to escape the sharp shards. Wailing and crying, she attempts to crawl the rest of the way. Her palms and knees are reduced to wounded fleshy matter and her throat grows hoarse from her shrieks. This is when you notice the large bloody fragment protruding from her right eye.

You feel as though you're going to vomit, and you turn around, unable to watch. You hear other people shouting, starting to make it across the room and beckoning for the brown-haired woman to endure a little longer. You feel a hand on your shoulder, but you don't dare check who it is. You are too nauseated by the sounds of cracking glass and howling.

"I- I'm here!" The woman's pained voice shouts. "I made it to the end! I'm here-" Her sentence is cut off and you hear the sound of blood splatter. You feared she would be eliminated for not completed the challenge in the way it was intended. How cruel to make her crawl all the way across the room, only to die. You're about to turn and look at how close the dead woman came, but a voice tells you not to.

"Don't look." You had hoped the hand on your shoulder was Niragi's, but instead, it belonged to the young boy you say near in the car. "It's not pretty. Just move on to the next room." He speaks. You nod, your hand tracing the handle of the door to the next room before shoving it open.

Before you, there were pull-up bars positioned over stepping stools. Again, there were instructions to take your place at one of them. You let out a shaky breath and approached one of them. A timer on the wall was stopped at five minutes.

Nobody spoke. Maybe everyone was still processing the gruesome death which had taken place in the last room. There was no celebrating that we'd all make it out. Only mourning for a stranger. You watched the others climb up their stepping stools, and you did the same, gripping onto the bar above your head tightly. You didn't need to be told what to do. You only need to hold on for five minutes.

The challenge begins, and all the stepping stools get lowered into the ground. Trap doors open up beneath everyone. If someone were to let go, they would fall onto the concrete grown of the basement below. Nobody could survive that fall. The timer ticks down tantalizingly slow. You can already feel the burning in your arms. You need something to pass the time.

"Hey." You turn to the young boy, who had taken his spot next to you. "What's your name?" He smiles, seemingly unphased by the deadhang challenge. Underneath the layers of clothes, maybe he actually had some muscle to him. "How old are you?"

"I'm Shinji." He replies politely. On the bar behind Shinji is Niragi, his eyes shut in concentration. "I turned fifteen over the summer. What's your name, Miss?"

"Y/N, and unfortunately I'm not quite as youthful as you." You joke, earning a light chuckle from Shinji. You adjust your hands, glancing at the timer. Four minutes and twelve seconds remaining. "What's your favorite color?"

"Oh, shut up!" Someone growls. It's the man who had been driving the car on the way to this game. "Nobody wants to hear all your boring chatter. Nobody cares about your favorite color, or your name. Just focus on not dying."

Suddenly, there is a mechanical whirring as your bar begins to rotate, your hands nearly slip, but you continuously adjust your grip. The stranger who had been sitting on the other side of you in the car slips, banging her head on the ground before falling into the darkness below. You nearly let out a scream, but you have to focus on the task at hand.

Your pull up bar was now rotating, and you constantly had to adjust your grip while still enduring the burn of keeping yourself on. Three minutes and thirty-nine seconds left. You only hoped there wouldn't be any more surprises during this challenge. Despite the difficultly you were facing now, at least you weren't injured, like in your last game.

You hear another person slip, the crunch of their bones echoing as they crash into the ground. You bite your lip, drawing blood as you attempt to stay stable on your bar. Two minutes and fifty-six seconds.

You don't dare to try and make any conversation now. You are barely able to stay steady as is. One of your arms slips, earning a popping sound in your other shoulder. You scream as pain surges up your arm. You must have dislocated something. You reach back up, attaching both hands to your bar again. Tears prick your eyes, but you can't afford to let go right now. Your life depends on it.

Two minutes and two seconds. More than half the time is already passed. You feel your palms trembling as you try to hang on. Your left arm is now completely numb from the shoulder down. Suddenly, the bars stop rotating. It's a relief, a moment of rest and bliss. Unfortunately, this moment does not last long before they begin to rotate in the other direction. You hear Shinji groaning in pain, and you look towards his direction again.

"Almost there Shinji. Just hang in there a bit longer." You try to sound confident and comforting, but your voice is cracking. He gives you no reply, sweat dripping down his forehead as he desperately tries to keep up with the rotation.

Fifty-five seconds. Five minutes has never felt so long. You hear no struggle or complaints from Niragi or the driver. It makes you regret focusing so hard on your studies rather than being more well-rounded. Maybe if you had regularly gone to the gym a little more, you wouldn't be having such a hard time now.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally, it's over, and the trap doors beneath you close. You sigh in relief, dropping down to the ground and tumbling on your knees. Shinji is the first to approach you, eyeing your shoulder with a grimace.

"Miss Y/N, your shoulder really doesn't look too good..." He says, crouching to help you up. "I think it's your shoulder blade. It's kind of... Sticking out?" You try to get a good look at your shoulder, but it feels nearly impossible. Your eyes land on Niragi, who has felt incredibly distant during the whole game.

"Niragi!" You shout to him. He pauses, taking a deep breath and begrudgingly walking up to you. "I think my shoulder blade is dislocated. I need your help." You say, looking up at him expectantly. He stands, observing you for a bit before groaning.

"Fine. Turn your ass around." He grumbles. You turn around, waiting for the searing pain that you're about to experience as Niragi pops your shoulder blade back into place. You shriek, but the pain only lasts a moment before relief washes over you. "You've gotta quit your screaming, you banshee." Niragi teases, turning away and trudging into the next room.

You and Shinji follow close behind, being met with a large stairwell going downwards. It makes you uneasy to be going down, especially considering there is only one more challenge before the end of the game. At the end of the stairs is an already open doorway. Niragi and the driver have already gone through.

The next room is a large rock-climbing facility, except it seems the rocks have already been removed from the ragged walls. Instead, there are several long ropes. At the top of the ropes, there are keys. Finally, this is where you're meant to be.

You approach the rope indicated to be yours. Upon a closer look, you realize that this is not a normal rope at all. It's barbed wire, braided up into a thick long cord. This is going to really hurt, but at least your shoulder is fixed for this portion of the game. So much for having no injuries.

There was yet another timer on the wall. Fifteen minutes. This filled you with dread. You would have to climb up this giant barbed wire rope in only fifteen minutes? You spy Shinji inspecting the rope before pressing his finger against it. It slices right into him, a drop of blood pooling on his pointer.

Before you can say anything, a loud beep sounds, and the timer has begun. You gulp, looking in Niragi's direction. He's already begun climbing, having torn some fabric from his shirt and wrapping it around his hands. You steal the idea, advising Shinji to do the same. You tear off part of your clothes, wrapping it around your hands and starting up the rope.

You can still feel your hands being pricked, but at least the spikes aren't digging into you. Shinji is making some good progress. So are you. Maybe everyone will make it to the end without any more death or injuries. Just then, you hear a yelp from your young friend. You look his way, seeing that the piece of fabric around his left hand had come undone. When he notices you looking, he waves the hand in the air.

"It's fine. I've still got the other one! Keep going!" He shouts. You nod, continuing to hoist yourself up the rope. Your hands tingle from the sensation of light pricks over and over again.

You turn back to check on Shinji. He's fallen farther behind, his left hand bloody from climbing. There are eleven minutes left. He can still catch up, right? You try to focus on your climbing, but Shinji's groans in pain keep tearing you away. You want to help him. You wish you could, but there would've been no way for you to reach him.

Your leg slips and a gash is created in your thigh. You hiss in pain as the warm blood begins to drip down your leg. It's always the same leg that happens to end up bleeding in these games. It takes you a moment to readjust, scratching up your limbs as you try to find your position once again. The fabric wrapped around your right hand gets torn, leaving your palm exposed to the barbed wire.

You continue onwards, trying to distance your mind from all the pain you're feeling. It burns like a million papercuts on your skin. Your movements grow sloppier and the wounds on your body grow until you are littered in lacerations.

You're lightheaded, and when you look down, you realize why. The barbed wire is covered in your blood. Not enough to be fatal, but enough to feel dizzy. You feel like you're underwater, and all sounds around you are muffled. There are somehow only four minutes left. Looking up, you see you only half a little more than a meter to go.

You gather all your strength, pulling yourself up further. You're almost there. You can see your key nearly in front of your face. You look back again, searching for any sign of where Shinji is.

He's still very far down, and your heart drops as you realize he likely won't make it in time. Then, you search for Niragi. He must've already made it up, because he was nowhere to be seen. You curse him for leaving you and Shinji behind. The rules clearly stated you could help one another.

"Keep going Shinji! You're nearly there!" You lie, hoping this will motivate him. You reach up to take more of your rope, inching closer and closer to the top. Suddenly, your other arm gives out and you slip down a few more feet. You screech as the wire cuts your face, thighs, arms, and chest. This is not so bad in comparison to falling to your death, but the agony still leaves your brain foggy.

You're getting to the point where you're losing too much blood. Tears fill your eyes as you force yourself to keep going. This is what it's all about, right? Surviving. Living. You need to live to get back home. To see your loved ones again. You need to finish your studies. You need to make it through this game.

You look up, spying Niragi standing on the ledge over you. You gasp, grateful to see that he stuck around. You reach your hand up, well within range for him to pull you to safety. Exhaustion was beginning to set in, and your body ached.

"Niragi!" You choke out his name, your arm outstretched to him while the other barely clung for dear life. "Pull me up!" Yet, you got no response. You didn't feel the warm touch of another hand grabbing yours. Only the cold air around your bloody palm. There was a pause, a hesitance, from the man you thought you could trust. Your sight blurred with tears of fatigue and heartache.

You watched his fuzzy form turn his back you to, walking away without another word.

[redlollygag]

hey buds I'm up shit's creek with a paper overdue and work early in the morning so here. if this sees the light of day

. . . .

To be loved is to be seen.

Sentiments scrawled into poetry books he'd read on occasion (just to get the hype of them, mostly. Keigo's mind isn't patient enough to decipher poetry to the extent they deserve) that compound that over and over and over. Seeing is love. Knowing is love.

But to know Keigo Takami is to know far too much. And none of it's good.

Enter you. Exhilarating, earth-shattering you, and suddenly someone sees him. It took you, oh, two dates to begin picking him apart. An intimate little experiment beginning the moment you invited him over after another successful date night (Keigo's too much of a gentleman to say 'no', after all. Especially when you give him that look) and every day since you've surprised him with how observant you are.

"Here! I stopped at a cafe on the way here. Extra sugar and a bit of vanilla syrup? Makes it a little more sweet," you said nonchalantly in his office one day, a popular stop for you on the way to your own job and it takes Keigo's entire energy not to leave you with him. More than that, though, he's stunned.

Did he ever mention his caffeine tastes to you?

"Oh, hey, I was thinking tonight we could watch that horror movie you talked about! You know, the one with all the bad special effects? I think it's, like, three bucks online to rent!" You offered to him as you two lounged on your couch late one night and Keigo again reels. Did he once mention he was into bad horror films? Did he?!

Mind reading wasn't your quirk, last he thought. Maybe lucky guessing is.

But it wasn't until one night that the sentiment of those stupid poems hit him in full force. Another long day of playing double-agent left him spent. Exhausted. He had been forced to turn the other way during an emergency, one that ended in a number of injuries and, to add to the nausea already building in his throat, two fatalities.

The HPSC president tried and failed to comfort him ("Your current duties are to be your priority. Those people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time") and when he arrived at your apartment for another date, he tried to put on the routine. A doting boyfriend whose eyes shined brightly, hands moved gently, and never left you dissatisfied in any sense.

Except, you seemed to read through him.

"Come here." You said, watching him walk further into the room after leaving his coat and shoes by your door. You held your hand out to him, a siren call towards you, and he was powerless to withstand it even if he wanted to.

He grabbed your hand, preparing to pull you up into his arms until your lips gently pressed against his knuckles. He never knew what books meant when they said 'their breathing hitched', but here Keigo's throat clogged.

You opened your eyes to look up at him, lips still brushing against his knuckles as you spoke. "Bad day, huh?

Mind reading quirk. Had to be. "Long day, sweetheart."

You kissed his hand again, spreading open his fingers to trace your lips down to his palm, kissing the warm spot softly. "A bad long day, then."

He only hummed in response, studying you. Trying to find out where you had found a crack on him that you saw how shitty he felt. How shitty today had been.

You didn't ask him what happened, and he's grateful. You know better. It shouldn't be this way (he should be honest with you), but you're patient. Kind. You pulled him to lay on top of you on the couch and Keigo ignored every alarm in his head just to give in to you. To let you guide his head to rest on your chest as his wings puffed out, creating a perfect crimson blanket for the both of you.

He's exhausted. Spent. Drained. But you already knew that. You must have.

You've seen him this whole time, and while that strikes newfound fears into him, it's also almost nice. It meant less talking for him, more deep understanding of how he is and how you are and how this situationship-dare he say relationship-would work.

Maybe seeing Keigo Takami isn't necessarily a bad thing. At least, not yet.

And for now, he'll take that.

[allllium]

Hey, can I make a Matt x Reader request. Reader is a doctor and lives with Matt one evening Matt comes home with Spiderman who needs help. You become surrogate parents for Peter and think about adopting him since he's a son to both of you anyway.

Peter

~ Sorry this took me so long to get to. I had something written at some point but ended up scraping it 😭

~ Fluff, Maybe a little angst bc Peter is hurt at the beginning?

~ WC: 1,536

~ Matt brings home a kid ~

Being with Matt you've learned always to expect the unexpected. Matt has a heart of gold, always doing everything he can to help those in need. It's a good thing you're the same way. You wouldn't be a doctor if you didn't have the urge to help people but sometimes Matt, in your opinion, helps people that don't help him far too often.

However, one thing you didn't expect was for your wonderful boyfriend to come home with a kid. Okay maybe not kid, he's about sixteen years old, but that's still way younger than you or Matt. And way too young to be doing what he does.

When Matt brings home the kid, the first thing you do is freeze for a second. Who is this kid? How did he get hurt? How does Matt know him? Why is he in your apartment bleeding? 

You're quickly pushed out of your thoughts when Matt helps the kid onto the couch and looks to you for help. You immediately jump in, using your doctor skills to the best of your ability. Both he and your boyfriend stay silent the whole time. Matt stays sitting in an armchair to the side, obviously stressed by whatever happened. 

It takes a while to patch up the kid, whose name you still don't know, but as soon as you're finished, he falls asleep on the couch and allows you time to discuss this strange situation with Matt. 

Why is it that he stays silent the whole time you're busy helping the kid but the second you're ready to talk he runs off to the kitchen, not exactly running off as the kitchen is right there, but still?

“Matt. Explain?” You don't know what to say or ask. A million questions are running through your head as you follow him to the kitchen. 

“His name's Peter.” He hesitates to continue. “He's spiderman, that's how he got hurt.” 

“What? He's a child!” How the hell is a teenager Spiderman? 

“Yeah, I know that's why I've been keeping an eye on him.” He says as if it's the most casual thing ever. As if he didn't just bring me a beaten-up sixteen-year-old to fix up. 

“What do you mean keeping an eye on him? Do you listen to him?” You turn back to the living room and collapse in a chair. 

“No, he lives too far away. I just mean that I call him and check up on him.” His voice is quiet, careful not to wake the sleeping kid. “I met him a few weeks ago.” 

“When you were in Queens? Is that why you left?” A couple of weeks ago, Matt spent a few days in Queens for a new client he met. He never said much about it and you never asked. You never wanted to invade his clients' privacy and you weren't sure he could tell you about it anyway. 

“Yeah actually.” He doesn't say anymore and for some reason, you don't ask. Not sure if you want to know the reasons this kid, Peter you now know, could be in danger. You know Matt can handle himself so most of the time you try not to worry yourself but this is a young kid, that you can almost guarantee doesn't have anywhere near the amount of fighting training Matt had. 

After a few hours of making sure he was okay on the couch, and convincing Matt to stay in for the night, you both decide to head to bed. 

You wake up the next morning to loud crashing noises from the kitchen. You automatically know it's not Matt because one he is a terrible cook and two he is still lying in bed with an arm over your waist. So Peter must have woken up from his injury-induced slumber and started cooking because he's hungry? 

You reluctantly throw yourself out of bed. Despite getting plenty of sleep you feel anything but well rested. As you head out of the bedroom you see Peter wearing the old clothes Matt put out for him and trying to cook something in the kitchen. From the smell of it, he's probably not the best cook either.

“Good morning.” You greet him, coming into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. He whips around to look at you in surprise, he clearly doesn't have the same super senses as Matt.

“Oh uh, good morning!” He tries his best to sound cheerful but his voice has an underlying tone of shock and awkwardness. “Sorry for waking you up. I know taking of someone you don't know so late at night isn't the best, so I thought I would make you and Matt some breakfast to try and make up for it. I'm Peter by the end.” You stay silent as he falls into an awkward ramble. 

“Hi Peter I'm y/n. And you don't have to worry about making it up to us, we were happy to help. Plus I deal with this stuff all the time.”

“Right, you're a doctor! Matt told me about that.” He puts down all the stuff he was “cooking” and leans along the counter with you. 

“Oh, he talks about me?” 

“Well, it was that or all the people we've fought as masked superheroes.” He shrugs. 

“Superhero? Aren't you a little young to be fighting like you do?” 

“Maybe but if I can help people why wouldn't I?” 

“You could always be selfish and use your powers for yourself.” You tell him out of both curiosity and the fact that if you had any kind of powers you can't guarantee you would use them to help anyone else.

“Yeah, I guess.” And just like you both stop talking. Waiting in silence for Matt to wake up before you order breakfast.

Peter stayed with you guys for a little over a week while you made sure he was fully healed from his injuries. Before long he was going back home to Queens to whoever he lives with. You know from one brief conversation that his parents are gone, he never said how or who he stays with now but that's not any of your business. 

He comes over almost every week now for dinner, one of the only nights a week you and Matt cook instead of ordering takeout. You have the feeling Matt has imprinted on Peter, kind of like a baby duck. Maybe it's because they’re so similar. They can relate to each other in a way Foggy and Karen can’t. Well, Frank can but he and Matt don’t exactly get along. 

Today is one of the days that he’s gonna be coming over for dinner. You and Matt are in the kitchen making a new pasta dish. 

“So I wanted to ask you a question?” Matt suddenly tells you, while in the middle of stirring the pasta sauce. 

“You know you don't have to ask to ask a question right?” It doesn't matter how many times you say it, Matt will always warn you before asking a question. Most likely because he's worried about bothering you.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “I know, sweetheart, but I'm worried you'll say no.”

“I doubt it. What is it?”

“You know how Peter lives with his aunt right?” He pulls the finished sauce off the stove so he can put his full attention on you.

“I knew he lived some family member, yes. Why?” You’re very curious as to where this is going. 

“Well, she’s getting older and I thought maybe he could come and stay with us for a while.” Not what you expected him to ask.

“Matt, I would say yes to that if I could see how it would work. We don't have the room.” You shrug. You would love to help Peter out but you don’t think he would like living on the couch for at least a year. 

“That’s why I'm asking you. You always know what to do with these things.” If he means the way you freak out thinking of every possible solution and pretend to know what you’re doing then yeah, you are a master at it.

“I don't know, Matty. There is about a year and a half before he goes to college, there is no way he’ll be comfortable here for that long.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve been thinking of a way this could work. I just don’t want him to be alone.” 

“He won’t be. Even if he can’t live here he’s always welcome.” And just by saying that you come up with the perfect idea. 

A few weeks later it worked. Somehow everything magically fell into place. At the end of your previous conversation about it, you told Matt how great it would be if Peter could have his own apartment close to yours and magically one became available in the same building. Being sixteen, Peter obviously couldn't pay for the place himself but you were able to help out, having some extra money due to being a good doctor. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Matt comes up to you. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Eh, you’re rubbing off on me.” You grumble with a fake annoyance.

[multifandom-worlds]

A Family Divided

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word count: 2k

Warning: Bullying (siblings), mention of family death, description of injuries.

Notes: This sort of follows canon but sort of not at the same time. The reader (Iris) is Harry's sister and is 2 years older than Harry. So this takes place in what canonically is Harry's 7th year but in this fic it's Harry's 5th year. Does that make sense? Probably not but hopefully you'll understand!

Special thanks to @i-like-pandas5 for the idea and @loomis-maxima for dealing with all my bitching when it came to writing this thing.

You were Iris Potter, the older sister of Harry “The Chosen One��� Potter. What everyone forgets is that you were also in the house when Voldemort killed your parents. But since you weren’t in the nursery where your mother gave her life to save your brother, he became “the boy who lived,” and you became an afterthought - the unfortunate, forgotten sister of the boy Wonder, old enough to grasp what had happened but still young enough to have hope.

At one point in your lives, you loved Harry; you took care of him when the Dursleys didn’t and sheltered him from the abuse you received at the hands of your aunt. Her reasoning? You looked too much like your mother. You cried when you got your Hogwarts letter because it meant you had to leave him. You spent the whole train ride worried about your brother, hoping he was going to be okay before you returned home, only to arrive at Hogwarts and learn all about what happened when you two were little. 

The sorting hat debated whether to put you in Slytherin or Hufflepuff but decided you were ultimately Slytherin for your resourcefulness, cunning, ambition, and determined nature. You found belonging and friendship in Slytherin. You didn’t realize how deep the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was until Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, and started changing. 

During his first year, he stayed close to you whenever he could and introduced you to his friends, Hermione and Ron. They were good kids, if not a little annoying, but you were happy your brother found friends.

The resentment for your baby brother didn’t start until his 3rd year when he really started leaning into his “chosen one” moniker. He made a name for himself at 14, sealing your fate to always being in his shadow. 

“Stop copying Harry! Merlin, you're so obsessed with him!”

“Look at you trying hard to be like Harry. You could never be like Harry.”

“Your scar looks so fake!”

Those were comments you were sick of hearing—everyone thinking you're copying your brother because you also have a scar on your face. Where your brother's is a lightning bolt on his forehead, you have a white scar going down from your right eyebrow, across the bridge of your nose and down your left cheek. It usually blended in with your skin, but there were days when it was more pronounced than usual.

“Speak to her like that again, and they'll be finding pieces of you for generations to come.” Mattheo threatened, the collar of a 3rd year Gryffindor clutched tightly in his fists. You watched from a corner, twirling your wand between your fingers, waiting for your turn to cast Furnunculus as they scurry away.

“Merlin Iris, mum gave her life to save me, not you. You need to get over it already and just accept your place.” Harry would taunt you as he walked by your table. Mattheo would glare daggers at him, and Draco would be more than happy to hurl insults his way.

You started changing—perhaps it was Mattheo's influence on you. Maybe you have always been like this, but you decided to embrace all that Slytherin was: the good, the bad, and the evil. You had to listen to students and professors alike compare you to your brother. You just got sick of it, sick of hearing all the stories of adventures he got into, how he would never get in trouble because he was “The Chosen One.” 

***

“Hogwarts is threatened! Man, the boundaries! Do your duty to our school!”

You heard McGonagall call as hundreds of stone knights marched to their positions. This was it—the battle of Hogwarts. You knew it was coming, and the whole school knew it was coming. 

“All first and second years! My name is Iris; I am a 7th-year Slytherin student. I’m going to try to get you somewhere safe! Follow me, please!” You yelled out above the din. Once you had enough attention, you quickly and effortlessly led them through the school, blasting your way through enemies like they were pieces of paper. Mattheo is by your side, helping to guide students, Draco is on the left side of the group, Theodore is on the right, and Lorenzo and Blaise are pulling up the back. 

“Run, run, run, little snake,” Harry taunted when he saw you guiding the younger students away. “Run away, little snake; you couldn't stand up to a lion anyway.” Your jaw clenched, listening to your little brother’s taunts, but you choose not to dignify them with a response. You had a plan, and it would show the world who the stronger Potter was.

You wanted to be on the front lines, defending your beloved school, but you also didn't want your friends to have to battle their own families, so you tasked them with protecting the first and second years in the dungeon. 

You lead everyone into the kitchen before securing the door with Protego. It’s not a perfect system, but you hoped it’d be enough to keep everyone safe and keep any Death Eaters at bay. You walked around the kitchen, checking in on all the frightened students, trying to put their minds at ease.  

“I'm scared, Miss Iris. What if Voldemort comes and gets us?” A timid little Hufflepuff boy asks as you get to him. 

You sighed softly and crouched down to his level before motioning around, drawing attention to Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo, Blaise and Draco standing near the walls, surrounding the group of students. “Do you see these five boys with the green uniforms standing up? Those five are going to keep you safe. They have kept me safe the whole time I was here. They are extremely skilled witches, and I have full faith they'll keep you safe.”

“What about you?” The same boy asked 

“I'm going to end this once and for all. I'm tired of living in my brother's shadow. Time to make a name for myself.” You said before rising to your feet again and walking towards the entrance to the kitchen. 

You turn to leave the kitchen when Mattheo grabs your hand and holds you back from going. “I'm coming with you, Rissie. I'm not letting you do this alone. I can’t lose my only light.” 

You turned to face him before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. “My love, a Riddle is going to die tonight, and I would prefer it if it weren't you. Please stay here; I need to know you're safe.”

Mattheo searched your eyes for something, anything to tell him you're bluffing, but there is nothing but determination. “You be safe; I need you to come back to me after all this. I’m not ready to deal with life without you.”

You nod, silent tears rolling down your cheeks, and kiss him one more time. You looked up and addressed your friends before running out of the kitchen towards the stairs. “You lot better keep the next generation of witches safe. If you must die, I better hear it was saving one of  these kids, or so help me, Merlin, I will raise you from the dead and kill you myself!” 

You were quick to join the fray, joining professors and students alike as you defend your school and your home, a fierce determination burning deep inside your very being. Voldemort took your family from you; you were not going to let him take your school.

“Iris!” You turn to see who is calling to you when a deafening boom echoes all around before chunks of the castle crash down around you, knocking you to the ground. Once the dust has settled, you quickly take stock of your surroundings. Your left arm was trapped under some rubble at a painful angle, and your wand was nowhere in sight, scattered amongst the debris. The distinct taste of iron fills your mouth. 

You could hear Voldemort’s laughter as he taunted your brother. “Now you have nothing, Harry Potter. Your sister is dead!” Like hell, you were dead; the throbbing pain in your head and shoulder told you that. You needed to get out; you couldn’t let Harry kill Voldemort and claim the glory for himself. With your quick movement, your shoulder dislocated. You bite back a pained scream before carefully freeing it from the rubble. 

“CRUCIO”

Voldemort's wand fell, his tortured screams silenced the battle, and everyone turned to see who the witch was that cast the unforgivable curse. There you stood on top of the rubble, bloodied, shoulder dislocated, arm hanging limply by your side. 

You carefully stepped out of the rubble, clocking your brother's face; a mix of hatred and awe adorned his stupid features. You turn your gaze back to Voldemort, writhing in pain on the ground. You walked over to him and crouched beside his face.

“You killed my parents. It's time for me to repay the favour,” you spat. “Avada Kadavra,” you whispered as you watched the life drain from his eyes. His movements ceased, and his body deteriorated, scattering like ash into the wind. You stood up and locked eyes with your brother before the whole world went black. 

***

You wake up weeks later in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.  You could feel a weight on your bed, a rough, calloused hand clinging to yours. You gently close your fingers around the hand and carefully open your eyes before quickly closing them again, hissing at how bright everything is. 

“Nox,” you hear somebody say as all the lights go out in your room. It wasn’t pitch black by any means; light from the window and the hallway filtered in, but it was much easier to open your eyes. It takes you a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust again before looking down, seeing a mess of brown curly hair resting against your bed. You knew those curls like the back of your hand - Mattheo. A faint smile pulls up on your lips; he survived.

“He has been here since we brought you here, dear.” You turn to the voice, seeing McGonagall sitting in a chair on the other side of your bed. “It’s good to see you awake, Miss. Potter. Your friends have been quite worried about you. When I return to Hogwarts, I will make sure to tell them you are awake.’ McGonagall says, placing her needlework on her lap. “I must extend a heartfelt, sincere thank you for saving the first and second years. Snape had found them in the kitchen once the battle was over; not a single student was injured. That was very quick, selfless thinking on your part, Miss Potter.”

You smile weakly. “I didn’t really think; I just knew they didn’t need to see the fighting or risk seeing their families being maimed or killed. I’m glad they survived. Did…Theo and the others survive, too?” You ask, all of a sudden very concerned about your best friends.

McGonagall pats your hand reassuringly. “Mr. Nott, Mr. Zambini, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Berkshire are all live and well, fret not. They have a  few cuts and bruises, but they are alright. They have sent you many cards and letters. Read them when you have the strength.” McGonagall stands from her chair before walking to the door. “I must return to Hogwarts, but I shall send an owl to check on you.”

“Goodbye, Professor,” you say before turning your eyes back to your sleeping boyfriend beside you. You squeeze his hand and gently rub your thumb along his skin. He begins stirring, feeling your hand squeeze his. His eyes open, and it takes a few seconds to register that you are looking at him. 

“Iris?! You’re awake!” He says, his excitement palpable. “I missed you so much. I didn’t…I didn’t know if you would wake up again! The professors found you unconscious and barely breathing. The Daily Prophet has been singing your praises ever since they learned you killed my father. Harry is miserable that he is no longer the popular Potter. You did it, mon amour; you broke out of your brother’s shadow!” 

You smile weakly, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Shhh. Love, you’re talking too much. I just want to be here with you. I don’t care what is happening at school right now.” Mattheo chuckles before taking your hand and kissing your palm.

[coyotelip]

wolfstar microfic: muggle || wolfstar raising harry pt.2 || @wolfstarmicrofic || wc: 612 || all parts on ao3

"What's a Muggle?” Harry asks innocently, causing Sirius to freeze in the spot where he was preparing his lunch.

“Why do you ask?” Sirius asked timidly in response, looking down at the wide green eyes of the boy by his feet.

“I heard it on the street yesterday! A kind aunt in the street said so. “A muggle came to the village today". I've never seen anything like it, is it like a lizard?” words quickly come out of Harry's mouth, showing his toddler-like lack of a filter when it comes to chatter.

“Oh, dear...” Sirius hurries to finish his meal and get the boy to sit down. “You eat, take your time, and don't throw it around, and I'll be right back in a minute, okay?”

��☆☆☆☆

Remus flinches when Sirius bursts into his office quickly, slams the door behind him, and looks at the man with a frightened expression. The man's first instinct is to grab his wand and get up from his desk, approach Sirius in three wide strides and examine him for injuries.

However, the man is perfectly fine, his hair is tied back in a bun, his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and his hands are still wet, probably from washing dishes. Only a fearful look in his eyes and a kind of... pleading directed to Remus.

“What happened now? Where's Harry?”

“Happily eating his tomatoes and suddenly wanting me to tell him what kind of lizard those Muggles are...” nervous laugh escapes Sirius' lips.

“О,” Remus pauses, looking into the man's eyes. “So tell him, why the panic?”

“I can't. You know I'm not the right person to have a conversation like that with a child!” Sirius begins to rub his palms together nervously and wrap his fingers around them. “You know how I was raised, and how I was taught about Muggles.”

“Yeah, but you're not in that house anymore, you're a grown ass now, knowing the world from your own perspective. You know what needs to be said.” Remus covers Sirius's clasped hands with his palms, squeezing them lightly and giving him his warmth.

“It's nice of you to believe in my common sense, but really? Her voice is still in my brain somewhere, reminding me of it. I swear, when Harry said that word, I could hear her voice in my head as clearly as if it were just yesterday.” Sirius closes his eyes tightly. “How she ruined me...”

“Yes, perhaps she did. But do you remember last week? When Harry wanted to sew and you spent the whole day figuring out how it worked so you could show him?”

“Uh, yeah? My fingers still hurt... But what does that matter now, you can see I'm panicking! You have to do it.”

“Oh, darling.” Remus kisses him gently on the forehead, wrapping his hands around Sirius' shoulders. “It's just that you've already experienced how sometimes parenting isn't just about teaching your child something you're already good at. Sometimes it's about learning for you, too, a new stage of growing up for that child who still lives inside you and holds onto old wounds. And if Harry helps you overcome your old prejudices today, isn't that just another reason to love him even more?”

“Mmm, I suppose.” Sirius visibly hesitates, lowering his heavy head to his husband's shoulder.

Remus wraps his hand around the back of man's neck to hold him close and speak softly. “If you put your mind to it, you can do it. So take a deep breath, go down to the kitchen before the kid paints tomatoes all over the table, and talk to him like an adult.”

[bubblegumspacebxtch]

You Shouldn't

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Joel knows you shouldn't love him and if hurting you is the only way for you to stop, then so be it.

Warnings || angst, injury (stab wound), mentions of smut, Joel is a bit mean here, reader is called sweetheart, use of Y/N only once

A/N: lt's been a hot minute since I wrote anything on here but I really wanted to write Joel Miller angst so here's that. I have fallen down the TLOU rabbit hole and am currently obsessed with this grumpy old man I call daddy. Will write a part two for this one shot because though I love me good angst, I'm a sucker for happy endings. Enjoy!!

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

Joel swore time stood still the moment those words left your lips. Suddenly the room felt stuffy, every muscle in his body aching to just run and avoid having the inevitable conversation before him.

"Because I love you, Joel..."

Joel looked away but you wouldn't break eye contact, even if it was just the side of his face. You knew the timing of your confession couldn't have been worse, but your heart needed to get it out now.

You and Joel had spent the last three years together, and for the last few months, you both crossed a line by sleeping with each other. It was supposed to be just sex, a way to meet a basic human need that, for the longest time, felt like a luxury. The set boundaries were clear.

"This is just for us to both feel good, alright sweetheart?"

You were adults who understood what the arrangement was, but no matter what state of mind you tried to keep, your heart simply could not be taught. When the three of you had settled in Jackson, it had became even harder to deny the want that kept simmering inside you.

As your found family fell into a rhythm the longer you stayed within the walls of the community, your fantasies of having an actual life with Joel and Ellie grew too. The last years have been about surviving, but now you felt like you could finally start to build a life with the only two people left in the world you'd give anything and everything up for.

It was normal for you to wait up for Joel when he was out on patrol. Despite his insistence that it wasn't necessary, your worries would not let you sleep a wink without knowing he was safe. The sound of the clock felt louder every second you stared at the front door from where you sat on the couch. Ellie offered to keep you company, but as her yawns became more frequent, it didn't take much convincing for her to retire to her own room after she had bid you goodnight.

Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy too, having spent the whole day in the garden harvesting the produce. A few more minutes pass and the sounds of footsteps on the porch made the clouds of sleep in your head clear. Before the door was even open, you were already walking to greet Joel.

The slump of his shoulders and heavy steps were enough to tell you it hadn't been the easiest patrol shift, but it was the dark patch of dried blood on his shirt that had caught your attention. The sight caused your stomach to twist, mind filling with worry over his obvious injury.

"Joel... what happened?"

At the sound of your voice, it was instinct for Joel to always find where it was coming from. Looking up at you, your eyes were soft, but the small frown marring your features told Joel your thoughts were running a mile a minute already.

"It's nothing."

The tall man tried his hardest to walk straight to the kitchen, fighting the urge to clutch his aching side. The pads of your feet against the floor meant you were close behind and Joel braced himself for he knew you were not about to let the coming conversation go.

"Joel, it's not nothing. You're bleeding. Let me take-"

"Sweetheart, I'm telling you, it's just a cut. I can handle it."

You offered nothing in reply but to let out a disappointed sigh before opening the cabinet with the medical supplies. Joel watched you move around, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile as he took in your small frame dwarfed by the old shirt of his you wore.

"Joel, sit down. Please."

You gestured to the dining room chairs and Joel still had some fight left in him, but the pleading look you sent his way kept him quiet. Joel would do anything for you, something the both of you knew for sure.

The walk to the dining area was short but Joel's discomfort was obvious. The quiet grunt he let out as he sat didn't get passed you. Lifting his shirt, your gasp was instantaneous as you stared at an obvious stab wound. You fought the urge to tell Joel off for passing the puncture as a simple cut as you grabbed disinfectant to clean the tear in his skin.

Joel let you work on his wound in peace. He knew you were worried, but you weren't above nagging him for being stubborn and always denying help. He looked at you like how he always has, with all the love and adoration he thinks he can no longer really give.

"Joel, you can't keep downplaying situations like this. You're hurt and this is a serious injury. I-I know you don't want me to worry, but I want to help you..."

The frustration in your words was palpable. Tension begun to set in between you two. It was becoming clear that this issue was something that needed to be discussed. Joel always had to appear like he couldn't get hurt, that he could hold his own and that he didn't need anyone. You on the other hand would bend over backwards for him. You desperately needed to show him how he didn't have to do everything alone, he has you.

But Joel was many things, one of them being stubborn as a mule. He knew you cared for him, but he refused to acknowledge what that meant. The hardened man would not entertain even the slightest idea that your concern for him may come from a place of love.

"I don't really know why you care so much, sweetheart. I've told you a hundred times, I can handle myself. Don't have to get so worked up over me."

"Because I love you, Joel..."

You couldn't love him. You shouldn't. He was old and Joel believed he was a reflection of everything wrong with the world. You, however, are a beacon of hope. Joel had watched you lighten the heart of everyone you had met, especially Ellie.

You were young and vibrant, despite having grown up in apocalyptic times. You too had lost everything, but unlike Joel, you always found the means to go on. Ellie and him loved your spirit. The younger girl had once jokingly said you were the sun itself, and Joel immediately understood what she meant. You were warmth in every sense of the word.

He didn't deserve you. Joel knew he couldn't have you, and even if you wanted him, he shouldn't. Joel was convinced he'd ruin you, let you down and loose you. It was easier to pretend he could no longer love like he once had. But you wouldn't let him.

For the past years you've been together, you wouldn't allow Joel to believe he didn't deserve good things. You'd try your hardest to show him you would not have anyone else but him, that you'd offer your heart for his a million times over.

The silence had caused a lump to form in your throat. You knew Joel took his time with processing emotions, but his lack of a response hurt you nonetheless. Before you knew it, he was pulling away.

He pushed backwards the chair he sat on, causing the legs to screech against the floor. The sound had made you visibly cringe and your mind was scrambling for a way to diffuse the situation.

"I know we agreed there shouldn't be any feelings involved but-"

"Exactly. We agreed that we were just hooking up. You can't go dumping your feelings on me like that."

"Joel, I-I have loved you almost as long as I've known you. Long before this arrangement even began. I-"

"Yeah... well you shouldn't. Don't be stupid, Y/N."

Joel abruptly stood up to leave before making his way to the front door. He could feel your stare as he paused in front of the door. Like a real glutton for punishment, he turned to look back at you. The tears had already began to run down your cheeks. Joel felt like his chest would implode seeing you so distraught, but his heart could not stop his mind nor his mouth.

"I can't be here right now."

And just like that, he's out the door and on to the street, making his way to Tommy's. As if hurting you wasn't punishment enough, your cries were the last thing he hears before closing the door and leaving.

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 2: Confession

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fluff, pining, teenage angst.

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Ch 1

2006

On your first meeting with Gojo Satoru, you concluded that he was an arrogant, spoiled brat who was gifted with good looks and godlike powers. Fortunately, with him came the heavenly two: Shoko and Geto, who aligned with the normal spectrum of human emotions in your eyes, unlike the borderline narcissist called Gojo. Maybe you were biased, but at least those two didn't call you weak when you introduced yourself. It was not difficult to get along with all of them, so in no time, you grew close to everyone. You spent a lot of time with Yaga, who was trying to decipher your cursed technique, which he believed was something akin to Geto's, and that brought about daily practice sessions with your then crush.

Geto Suguru was nearly perfect in all senses, always on the morally correct side. His desire to protect everyone, his unique approach to the whole teaching situation, and his method of training added more to his already mesmerizing persona in your mind. You trained with him every single day after classes, had hour-long conversations about the most stray subjects while trading vintage cassette tapes, and feasted on any peculiar but palatable dish you came across. Regarding your slow growth, his patience with you bore fruit the day you stumbled upon an unfavorable breakthrough. You fainted halfway through combat, yet your body swerved every additional attack coming your way with some foreign cursed energy. He conducted certain actions that might trigger this behavior again, only to discover that you shared some sort of symbiotic relationship with an entity that resided within your subconscious. He surmised that it didn't possess you; instead, it protected you, the host, for mutually gainful results. It wasn't dangerous by nature. Geto tried exorcising it but gave up due to its unpredictable nature while secretly informing Yaga about it.

_______

After your lucrative performance in the Yamanashi Prefecture assignment, you were bombarded with numerous missions, sometimes assisting Haibara or Nanami, keeping you busy enough to miss out on your lessons with Geto. So naturally, Geto found himself gravitating towards you when he saw your bruised form coming out of the infirmary. "Missed me?", Geto asked, leaning on the infirmary door.

"You wish", you replied with a playful smile.

"Ouch... can't recall your Romeo already, I see". Now that is awful because that's the thing about Geto; he says stuff like this so casually, and it hurts knowing well the platonic character of your relationship. You feel terrible for not being a truly faithful friend. However, you have almost made peace with it over the span of 4 months, striving to get it through your head that dating is not the most significant experience of teenage life; maybe it's friendship, and it's okay to accept that some people are just way out of your league. These were the constant subliminal messages going around in your head.

"Yeah, found a new one. Hello husband", you retorted as Nanami entered the scene, and in true Nanami fashion, he took his time to understand that the remark was meant for him.

"So it was a head injury, I presume", Nanami said with a straight face.

"More like a heart injury after your blatant denial of our romantic married life just now!", you scoffed, trying to sound as offended as possible. You found out recently that teasing Nanami had become your new favorite thing; his reactions were to die for, and possibly Gojo's weird tactics were rubbing off on you.

To say that Geto was bewildered would be an understatement, because the last time he checked, Nanami wasn't one to entertain such chatter or blush at unintentionally flirty jokes. Generally, Geto considered himself the most mature of the bunch, and he was above all these sappy-feeling things, so why were several questions flooding his head? Was Geto the third wheel here? Was he feeling some sort of way for you? Did he want you to be this way only with him? Geto waited till Nanami left out of sheer awkwardness and embarrassment to ask if you wanted to hang out with him, and unfortunately, you were not free.

Actually, you were. You just wanted to save yourself from the heartache because it was frustrating how you felt around him. He was untouchable and really beautiful, and your sense of inferiority kicked in every time Gojo bragged about the double dates he went on with his best friend. So turning him down seemed like a better option than deluding yourself in fantasies. What you didn't know was that life already had a funny joke up its sleeve—that Geto had been assigned to an inevitable mission along with Gojo that very day.

2010

Geto was tired of dealing with the spineless monkeys; they were getting on his nerves. Such self-centered, one-dimensional idiotic bunch weren't worth his time, but their pockets full of money and senseless heads filled with blind devotion were. Since their disgusting lives lacked meaning, he manipulated them into believing in the revolutionary religious group that he was the god of. To make some sense of the useless souls, he was doing them a favor by liberating them and making use of their miserable existence. It was always easy to instill fear in the ignorant; hence, his blessings and powers became the perfect pearls in his already beautiful ornament.

What kept him motivated was something that he yearned for—the only boon he had been enthroned with—you. And right now, he was waiting for you to return from an important congregation you conducted to scout some new fools into this institution. He knew you were capable of so much more than just using your beauty and polite, submissive nature to exploit the beliefs of the non-sorcerers, yet he couldn't trigger your fragile state by exposing you too much to the consequences of following him. So he complied with your wishes of playing house as an escape from everything. It was everything and more; there was no harm, there were no curses, there was sincerity, there was love, and there was you, and you were all he needed.

"I'm never going back there again!", you declared as you pulled Geto into a hug the minute you arrived. Being surrounded by silly people, putting up a facade, carrying yourself like an angel in front of all the devotees, a ruthless sorcerer for the enemies, a diplomat in non-sorcerer politics, and a prudent young girl for all the perverts was exhausting. It was only beside Geto that you allowed yourself to let loose, as danger was always on your tail due to your close association with him.

"Come on, I have to show you something", he said, breaking the hug.

"I really don't have the energy to travel anymore, Suguru. Let's go back to the hotel", you whined.

"Please, just this once. You won't regret it", he pleaded, and you obviously agreed. The car ride was peaceful, with your head laying on his shoulder as he admired your sleeping form, waking you up once the car reached its destination.

You woke up to a duplex surrounded by a row of rare flowers and trees, arranged in a uniform manner. You looked around the area before speaking up, "What's this place?"

"It's our home", Geto answered lovingly.

You looked back and forth between the house and him, taken aback. You remembered telling him how frustrating it was to move hotels every week. How much you craved the warmth of your parents own place. How much you wanted to be with him in a place where you could breathe freely and not feel guilty about anything. You turned to Suguru only to see him looking at you affectionately. You could be here with him, and no one in the world would know. Maybe there's a chance for change. You wanted to convey your million feelings to him, so you closed the distance between you to kiss him and let him know, which he reciprocated by kissing you deeply, pulling you as close as possible, and stopping only to take you to explore the rest of the house.

The moment you entered the bedroom, Geto had you against the wall as you wrapped your legs around him instinctively. Nuzzling into your neck and pecking you, Geto felt alive for the first time in a while. The way your lips met, the way you tasted, and the way you were trying to move your hips to gain some friction were driving him insane; it was heavenly. Before he could do anything about it, you halted your movements and walked towards the bed, stripping yourself completely and turning to say, "Suguru, I want you to fuck me".

Almost as if on cue, Geto took off his black yukata robes and followed you to the bed. He was so aroused that he couldn't help but kiss you again and suck hard enough on your bottom lip to leave a bruise. Laying you down, he started sucking your neck and teasing your nipples, going south with every passing second. Once he reached your sex, a loud moan escaped your mouth when he swirled his tongue, entering your dripping hole as he initiated the assault on your clit with his thumb. His humming pleasured you more through the vibrations, showing you just how much he longed for you. "Fuck Suguru, don't stop", you whined out of desperation.

Your moans motivated him to lick your clit with broad strokes of his tongue. You were tangling his hair, pulling on them, and trying to grind on his face, and seeing your squirming body under his control made him painfully hard. Keeping a tight grip on your thighs, Geto buried himself between them, swilling and smacking the slick while relishing his new addiction. Your hole pulsated around his tongue as he kept slurping on your juices, and you climaxed due to the overstimulation.

High on you, Geto had you sprawled on your back in a missionary position. The hypnotic haziness of the moment was too much for him, so he entered you to fulfill his carnal desire to have you. Moaning wildly, he tried to move, only to end up shuddering due to the stimulation. He didn't want to hurt you, but your face—the mix of ecstasy and craziness—was enough to drive him to the brink. Forgetting everything, he started rutting into you with harsh, deep strokes, causing you to writhe under him. The delicious jiggle of your tits allured Geto to give them the attention they deserved, sucking on one while squeezing the other. "Fuck...ngh...hsh... you're doing so good, baby...ahh", Geto said with a shaky breath as he lifted your leg up to thrust even deeper.

It wasn't the first time Geto was doing it with you; actually, he had spent countless amazing nights with you before, but this time was different. He felt as if you both were sharing the unspoken feelings you held for each other; it was serene and intimate. Being a God to thousands yet he found true devotion only in your eyes, where he was what he aspired to be: kind. And in this moment, he became one with you, and there was no beyond. His exuberant feelings were waiting to be spilled, but something stopped him. Was it doubt or rejection? He didn't know, but he knew better than to say it out loud.

"I love you, Suguru...hah..fuc-", you were cut off with a suffocating kiss. Geto's thrusting became erratic as he tried to express himself through his actions. Suddenly, life felt more lively; every sensation on his skin felt more pleasurable; it was overwhelming; he was losing control. You both came together, yet none of you stopped, wanting to stay in that euphoric episode for longer. Geto had so much to say to you, so much to confess, but he didn't. There was no rejection now; however, there was vulnerability, and it scared him.

"I love you", was all that his cowardice allowed him to utter.

Ch 3

[gabessquishytum]

Ballerinos paired together for romantic dance who initially can't stand each other.

Hob and Dream both found their way to a nontraditional ballet company - Hob didn’t really have the "body type" for your traditional ballet companies, he was very good but spent too many years in the chorus; Dream was also very good, had a rightfully reputation as a diva, but got injured by bad direction from Burgess, that was ultimately blamed on Dream. Dream has healed from his injury, but companies weren't interested in hiring him.

So they both need a chance and this "experimental" dance company might be the answer.

Their new company pairs them in a romantic pas de deux, but they are having the hardest time looking romantic with each other.

When they first met, Hob and Dream just rubbed each other the wrong way - it could have been a personalities clash, it could have been a seniority thing,,,,, it could have been the (unresolved) sexual tension. Whatever it was, it was making them clumsy and tentative with each other - who would ever think experienced dancers would be shy about putting hands on another for lifts. They could actually hurt each other if this keeps up.

So they are sent off for a weekend together to work it out!

Ooo I love this,,, the absolute tension and sexiness,,,

Hob is generally the kind of guy who can be very much trusted with lifts, throwing his fellow dancers around... even in the warm ups before rehearsals, all the young male dancers are practically begging him to please please please do an angel lift with them? They might never have the chance to be lifted again 🥺🥺 and of course Hob obliges.

Dream finds all of this very foolish. He's just waiting for the day when Hob acquires an unnecessary injury from messing around. His vibes when he's around Hob are full of disdain, and he makes Hob lose his confidence! His holds are terrible, his hands slip. Dream isn't helping at all. He seems to forget what he's doing half way through a movement. But the irony of it all is that they look amazing together.

So off they go to a small hotel in the country which doubles as one of those meditation retreats. And Dream spends the whole of the first day being a diva and ordering Hob around, until Hob finally snaps.

He says that Dream isn't the principle dancer and he needs to stop acting like it, that Hob is just as good as Dream if not better, it's just that Dream had the luck to be born pretty, and that if he doesn't wind his neck in then Hob is going to go and find a partner who doesn't make him feel like shit.

And after a blazing row, its inevitable: they fall into each other's arms, and fuck all over the hotel room. Dream graciously allows Hob to top in what feels like a metaphor for him relinquishing control - so Hob takes it very seriously and makes sure that Dream feels safe and has his mind completely blown.

When they both get back to rehearsals, they dance together beautifully and with such confidence, the rest of the company can't quite believe it. Hob is confident, Dream is trusting, their duet is everything is should be.

The only problem now is that they wont stop making out in the dressing rooms, but hey. Nobody's perfect!

[fallenwhumpee]

"I'll try."

• Masterlist •

Warnings: abandoning, rib injury, knee injury.

Ten year was a short time.

Spent with their sincere feelings, bundled with joy and naive victories, those years passed in a blink. Memories, maybe the only good things circling in their mind, were precious, sincere. Each built up warmth in their chest and fluttered their stomach.

Thinking back, Right Hand knew they were lucky. They were the luckiest person in their small world. They had a chance to work with people they could laugh and cry together. They were lucky that even while bleeding on the floor, they were thrown jokes with worry hidden. They were lucky that each time after work, they were fretted over like a mother cat would do to its kittens.

They were lucky that a decade had passed with their family. And ten years, for that family, was too short. Life was always fast when they were laughing.

But ten years was also too long.

The next decade, spent without any of it, was taxing. Being deprived of the warmth of their captain's arms, their rookie's pranks and their cmo's constant prodding was like a slow acting poison, rotting their mind from inside.

Right Hand would give everything to get those back.

But here they were, sitting in a cafe the team used to hang out, waiting for Youngest— or a call from them. It had been a while. Five years, eight months, eleven days, and seventeen hours to be precise if they counted from their last call with them. But it had been even longer face to face. The team's disbanding was always going to be Right Hand's biggest regret.

The waiter eyed Right Hand once more. Right Hand ordered a coffee just to get rid of that look. Their intention wasn't to invade the space. They were just too early, unable to sit still in their house.

Right Hand stared. They subtly eyed around, but the customers changed from head to toe at least two times. Looking down, they checked their phone once more.

"No coffee today. You're only getting a lemonade."

Right Hand flinched, shooting a glare to the waiter only to see it was Youngest.

Older, different. Even that smile was foreign. How could Right Hand assume they'd meet the same energetic person when it had been too long?

"I didn't think I'd treat myself today. I don't have enough on me."

The handmade lemonade with ridiculously big size was the times of what they'd pay for coffee. They couldn’t afford this— the lemonade and changes on Youngest. Right Hand's will to form a connection was now gone. They didn't think they could accept that this was not the Youngest they remembered. They didn’t want change. Be it their order or their now distanced sibling.

"I don't either," Youngest grinned, drinking half of their lemonade in one go. "But anything we order is pre-paid." The smile faltered. "It was, always. Medic and Leader's arguments about who was gonna pay was always one-sided. This cafe won't make us pay one penny as long as we dont eat the whole buffet. This place owes a favour to Leader, but you know them—"

"They never collect those favours, so the shop sqid its on them every time," Right Hand completed with a bitter smile.

"Yeah. Even though I'm sure they came back every time without us and paid the order." Youngest muttered. They fidgeted a little, hitting their fingers to the glass a few times.

"I missed... I missed the action," Right Hand confessed, their voice tinged with a mixture of longing and reluctance— they didn't know what they were supposed to feel. They glanced at Youngest, trying to gauge if they would grasp the weight of their words. Would Youngest understand what it meant to just... sit back? To watch the people go on with their jobs, to... to just get the news from a few messages every now and then?

"Me too. That's..." Youngest drew a sharp breath, their eyes darting to the side as if searching for the right words. They let out a slow exhale, their shoulders sagging. "That's why I'm here."

Right Hand frowned, a flicker of unease settling in their gut. "What do you mean?" they asked, their tone cautious.

"We... I need you back," Youngest breathed out, their eyes digging into Right Hand's for a positive answer desperately. Youngest leaned forward, their hands gripping the glass. "Officially, I'm asked to see if any of us wishes to return, but I need you. I will refuse the offer if you do, too."

Right Hand hesitated, their gaze dropping to the table as they mulled over Youngest's words. "It's been a while," they murmured, unsure of what to say.

"I know," Youngest admitted, averting their gaze..

"You know why I didn’t stay," Right Hand sighed.

Youngest nodded, their expression faltering. "But I need you. Especially now with Leader missing—"

Right Hand's head snapped up, their eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Youngest's face paled, and they almost shouted in their panic. "You... you haven't heard?" they asked, their voice rising with alarm.

"Youngest," Right Hand warned, their voice low and firm. They were tired of beating around the bush. "Tell me what's going on."

Youngest shrunk back slightly, their voice dropping to a near whisper. "When you decided to leave, we got assigned to calmer positions.. Except Leader," they muttered, their fingers nervously tapping against the glass.

"Get to the point," Right Hand urged, their patience wearing thin.

Youngest swallowed hard, their voice trembling as they spoke. "Leader had been acting like a mercenary, and we lost contact almost a year ago."

Right Hand felt their heart skip a beat, a cold dread settling in their chest. "Maybe something went wrong in their last commission," they suggested, though they didn’t believe it.

Youngest shook their head, their expression grim. "No... They abandoned us. Not— not like that, but they... Leader left. Told us it was their last job and disappeared."

Right Hand kept their head down, trying not to draw attention in the bustling tavern. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, and the low murmur of hushed conversations filled the air, adding to the tension in Right Hand's chest.

Right Hand could feel crippling worry crawl its way into their mind. If Leader had gone back to acting like that...

-•-

They didn’t know how all these annoying missions kept finding them, but they had to get this one done. There was no room for error, not now. Not when the higher ups were breathing on their neck.

A single figure sat there, huddled in the furthest corner of the room. While Right Hand couldn't see the figure's face, they recognised the ring on the table. A simple silver ring that acted as only identification even in the agency's detailed file.

Right Hand walked over to the table, tapping it lightly before sitting down. The sound was enough to draw the attention of the person across from them, who slowly looked up, eyes wary and cold.

"I don't have enough on me for a company," Leader muttered, their voice rough, as if it hadn’t been used much in recent days. They glanced at Right Hand, and for a moment, Right Hand though they were being read like an open book.

"You only drank water so far," Right Hand retorted, their eyes narrowing as they assessed the person before them. Leader was thinner, gaunter than they imagined. There was a hollowness to their cheeks, and dark circles framed their piercing eyes. They looked like someone who hadn’t slept or eaten well in days, maybe weeks.

"Is that a problem?" Leader asked, the edge in their tone sharp enough to make Right Hand flinch.

Right Hand shook their head, leaning back slightly in the chair. "No."

"Then what is the problem?" Leader asked, their gaze boring into Right Hand’s, as if daring them to speak.

Right Hand hesitated, choosing their words carefully. They knew how fragile this situation was, how easy it would be to lose any chance of getting Leader back. "Is it your working hours?"

Leader’s expression remained neutral. "Depends."

"Up for work?" Right Hand pressed. They needed this answer, needed to know if there was a chance to bring Leader back into the fold.

"Depends."

Right Hand felt a flicker of frustration rise. They bit back their first answer filled with insults. "Is this the only answer I'll get?" they asked instead.

Leader smirked, though it didn’t reach their eyes. "You won't get a good answer if you don't ask the right questions."

Right Hand let out a slow breath, trying to remain calm. "Ever tired of working alone?"

For a moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at the glass in front of them, their fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. Finally, they spoke, their voice barely above a whisper. "Is that an interrogation or an offer?"

"I thought I'd ask questions here," Right Hand scoffed.

Leader chuckled, a sound devoid of real humour sending shivers down to Right Hand's spine. "Not everything goes as we would like. Do you pay well?"

"Oh I—I'm not the employer. I'll probably be in your team," Right Hand admitted. They didn’t want to push Leader too hard, didn’t want to drive them away.

Leader raised an eyebrow, their scepticism clear. "My— is your employer, by any chance, an idiot? I'm not taking responsibility for other people. I don't do office jobs exactly,  y'know. Can't give people insurance."

"You have the experience," Right Hand shrugged.

"And a bad record of completing jobs as I'm asked to," Leader shot back, their tone bitter. They crossed their arms over their chest defensively.

"Yet you do nail the job with your way," Right Hand countered, refusing to back down. They knew Leader’s reputation, knew that when they committed to something, they saw it through—no matter the cost. And possibly with methods that drove the employers mad.

Leader’s eyes narrowed. "Now you're just telling this to get to my good side."

Right Hand didn’t flinch under the sharp tone. "Did it work?"

For a long moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at Right Hand, weighing their options. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until finally, Leader exhaled and shook their head with a resigned sigh.

"Yes," Leader admitted.

-•-

“Youngest... no,” Right Hand began, their voice laden with the weight of the years they had carried alone. They shook their head, looking down at their hands as if they might find the right words there. “You… really don’t want me - or Leader - back.”

Youngest’s eyes widened, but they got a hold of their face quickly. “I don’t care how things have changed. I need you. And I need Leader. If you know anything about them, please—”

“If I know anything about Leader,” Right Hand interrupted, their voice growing quiet, almost distant, “they’re not the Leader we know anymore.”

Youngest blinked, taken aback by the finality in Right Hand’s tone. “What do you mean?” they asked, their voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern.

Right Hand met Youngest’s gaze, their expression hardening. “I mean, don’t ask me this,” they said, their voice firm. “You don’t want to find the person Leader might have become.”

“But I need to,” Youngest insisted, almsot yelling. They took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “I know you. You won’t let me down. Neither you nor Leader ever did. Even if Leader changed, you can get them back. You... you tamed the monster once.”

Right Hand suprassed a flinch and let out a long, weary sigh, their shoulders slumping. They hated that Youngest was right— not in tamsing part but still. No matter how much they wanted to walk away, they couldn’t. Not from this. Not when it involved the people they once called family.

Right Hand finally gave up. “I’ll try,” they said, their voice carrying a quiet determination. “But you need to be prepared for what we might find, if we find anything at all.”

Youngest swallowed hard but nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… bring them back,” they said, their voice cracking slightly.

Right Hand paused, their gaze softening as they looked at Youngest. “I’ll do my best,” they promised, though a part of them wondered if their best would be enough.

-•-

Right Hand had lost count of how many dead ends they had followed in just three months. Every lead was colder than the last, every contact more hesitant to speak. The trail that Leader had left behind was barely more than a whisper—scattered rumours that always ended absurdly, as if it was purposefully set up.

But Right Hand wasn’t ready to give up. Not when they had seen the look in Youngest’s eyes, the hope clinging to the edges of desperation. Not when they owed it to themselves, to the family they once had, to find Leader and at least try to bring them back.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally found a lead that seemed promising—a small, rundown apartment on the outskirts of a forgotten town. The odd tenant paid rent in cash, kept to themselves, and was rarely seen except for the occasional late-night trip to a nearby convenience store. If Right Hand wasn’t so desperate for a lead, they could've overlooked it.

In the blink of an eye, Right Hand stood outside the door, their heart pounding in their chest. They had no idea what to expect on the other side. They weren’t even sure they were ready to face whatever—or whoever—they might find.

Taking a deep breath, Right Hand knocked on the door. There was no answer. They waited a moment before knocking again, louder this time. Still nothing. Anxiety gnawed at them as they fumbled for the set of lockpicking tools they hadn’t used in years.

They moved in after breaking in, their footsteps heavy on the worn wooden floor. In the dim light, Right Hand could make out the remnants of someone’s life—an unmade bed, a table cluttered with empty bottles, a chair knocked over in the corner.

Right Hand's eyes darted around, taking in the sparse, almost desolate surroundings. There was something about the place that felt wrong—a heaviness that hung in the air, pressing down on them as they cautiously stepped forward.

A faint rustling came from the couch, the backrest blocking Right Hand's view. Their breath caught in their throat as they turned toward the sound, their heart pounding louder with each passing second.

"Who's there?" they called out, their voice steady despite the fear gnawing at them from the inside.

The rustling stopped, followed by a low, pained groan. Right Hand's grip tightened around the handle of their gun, their eyes straining to see through the dimness. Slowly, a figure rose and turned back, and Right Hand's heart sank.

Leader.

They looked different— worn down but not completely defeated. Their clothes were rumpled and faded, as if they'd been worn for days on end. Their hair, still mostly neat, was streaked with grey that hadn’t been there before. And their eyes - those once bright, determined eyes - were clouded with exhaustion and something else Right Hand couldn’t quite place.

But despite it all, Leader still held themselves with a certain dignity. Even the hollowness in their cheeks and the dark circles under their eyes told a story of sleepless nights, there was still a spark of the person Right Hand once knew— or Right Hand wanted to see it that way.

Leader blinked, as if trying to focus on the figure standing before them. For a moment, they looked confused, as if they weren’t sure if Right Hand was there. But soon, Leader’s expression shifted from confusion to something more guarded— almost defensive.

"Right Hand," Leader rasped, their voice rough from disuse. They straightened up slightly, trying to pull themselves together, though the effort seemed to cost them dearly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Right Hand replied carefully, trying to keep their tone neutral, non-threatening. "I’ve been looking for you."

Leader let out a short, humourless laugh, though it sounded more like a cough. "So you finally found me," they muttered, running a hand through their hair in a weary gesture. "Congratulations. You can go back now and tell people that  I’m still alive. Just what I needed."

Right Hand shook their head, refusing to let Leader brush them off so easily. "That’s not why I’m here," they said firmly. "I’m here to bring you back."

"Back? Where?" Leader spat. They stood up, their body bandaged. Right Hand could see a makeshift rib corset peeking under their shirt, and Leader's knee was properly braced— more of a mobility choice rather than caring about their health, in Right Hand's opinion.

Leader’s sharp tone cut through the stale air, the bitterness in their words evident. They leaned heavily on the back of the couch, trying to steady themselves as they stared at Right Hand with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Back where?" Leader repeated, their voice lower but no less biting. "There’s nowhere to go back to. The team is gone. That life… it’s over. It was never my life to begin with."

"No, it was!" Right Hand snapped. "Leader, we are from the same fabric. I know what must be done, and I know what's really eating you alive. You have to take what is yours. Will you let Youngest think you abandoned them?"

Leader's gaze hardened, their posture stiffening as they straightened up, wincing slightly from the effort but also stepping closer, towering over Right Hand. "But I did leave them behind," Leader almost snarled. "You’re delusional if you think I can be any help. Look around you," they gestured vaguely at the rundown apartment, their eyes narrowing. "I'm in no state - and mood - to play the same game. I'm not interested in anything you have to tell."

Right Hand clenched their fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "You don’t get to decide that," they said, their voice steady but firm. "We need you, Leader. Youngest needs you. And deep down, you know you need us too."

Leader’s expression wavered for a moment, a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or doubt—crossing their features before they quickly masked it with anger. They scoffed, turning away. "Need is a dangerous thing, Right Hand. It makes you weak. It blinds you. You don't need me."

"And what I need, then?" Right Hand pressed, refusing to let Leader retreat into themselves again.

"You ned to move on," Leader began, their voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "I’m not the person you remember. I’m not the leader you followed. And I won't be that person again. You need to move on and forget."

"I don’t believe that," Right Hand said with a determination that cut through the tension in the room. "And I don’t think you do either. We’ve all changed, Leader. None of us are who we were, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way forward."

Leader shook their head, exhaling a shaky breath as they rubbed a hand over their face. "You don’t get it," they muttered, their voice wavering. "You’re holding on to a ghost. The person you’re looking for… they’re gone. There’s nothing left to bring back."

"That’s not true," Right Hand insisted. "I can see it in your eyes—there’s still a part of you that wants to fight. You never back down from your duty."

Leader’s eyes darted away, unable to meet Right Hand’s gaze. They looked like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, the burden of their own self-loathing almost too much to bear.

"Why did you run?" Right Hand asked, their voice gentle. "Why did you leave and get away from what made you happy?"

Leader’s jaw clenched, their fists tightening at their sides as they wrestled with the question. "You were keeping things together. It was always you." they admitted after a long, painful silence. "When you decided to back down, i tried. I really did, but... things fell apart."

"Running away didn’t help anyone, least of all yourself," Right Hand replied, their tone softening with understanding. "I had to leave. You knew, and I'm grateful you never blamed me for it. But it wasn’t me. You kept us together when I couldn't. For years. You tried, and it didn’t work. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on each other— or ourselves."

Leader’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of them as they sank back onto the couch, the weight of their guilt and despair pulling them down. "I can't do it again," they whispered, their voice trembling. "I don’t even know how to help myself, let alone the team."

Right Hand sat on the table in front of Leader. "You’re still here," they said firmly, gripping Leader’s hands in theirs. "And that’s enough. We’ll figure out the rest together. You’re not alone in this, Leader. We will all try this time. You won't have to keep us together."

A tear slipped down Leader’s cheek, and they quickly brushed it away, but not before Right Hand saw the vulnerability in their eyes—the pain, the fear, the longing for something they thought they had lost forever.

For the first time in a long time, Leader allowed themselves to lean into the comfort Right Hand offered, the warmth of their touch grounding them in a way they hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity.

"I don’t think I can do it," Leader murmured, their voice trembling. "But… I’ll try."

Right Hand nodded, their own eyes misting over as they squeezed Leader’s hands. "That’s all I’m asking."